The Hitler Abortion Question

****This will be the last blog post on blogger. All future posts will be at:

fallenangeltrilogy.com

I remember one of those super intellectual discussions I had during a late-night 'study' session back in college. Here is the premise- if you were a doctor in Austria in the late 1880s and knew your patient, Klara Polzl, was going to give birth to the monster who would go on to spawn the holocaust, would you abort the fetus?

Regardless of your views on abortion, it is an interesting question? And it is a question that has stayed with me through the years.

The reason I find this so fascinating is that it answers so many puzzles related to God. Why would God create a being like Satan? Why does God allow bad things to happen to good people? Why doesn't God intervene more directly in my problems? Why doesn't God get rid of all those scary clowns?

For me, the answer is the fundamental subject of the Fallen Angel Trilogy- Free Will (no, not the thing about the whale).

If I am the Austrian doctor with that kind of knowledge, I am, in one respect, like God. God oversees the births of over 350,000 people every day. If we accept that God is omniscient, omnipresent and omnipotent, than we have to accept that he allows individuals to live who he knows will kill, injure and destroy. Why? Because if he didn't, free will would be a complete sham.

If I allow only those who will do as I wish to live, is there really any choice available? If I know you will disappoint me and remove you from the equation, did you ever get the chance to decide? If I dictate that only sperm and egg combos that result in passive, believing creatures are permitted, am I a God of freedom?

Personally, if I were in God's shoes, Hitler would have been toast. But, than again, if I were in charge, I'm not sure I would have made the grade. I know those stupid clowns wouldn't.

Blogus Interruptus

Back when I was running marketing programs for golf courses, I used to lecture the GMs, golf pros and salespeople that they needed to have all of their systems integrated. It is much more efficient to have your POS system, CRM software and website all sharing a common data core.

I have decided to take my own advice. For too long I have built and hosted my own websites, while using Google's blogger as my outlet for compulsive verbosity. I am making the jump to Wordpress and am integrating my book website with the blog.

Visit FallenAngelTrilogy.com

I will continue to duplicate my posts here for a  short time, but will be eliminating this blog over the next several days.

Thanks for visiting the new site and liking it on all of those social media outlets.

Break Out The Yayin

I spent nearly six hours a day for the last several weeks undertaking a massive rewrite of book 1. I am happy to report it is finished. The updated manuscript includes twelve new chapters detailing Quemel and Maleyan's failed revolution, but I trimmed enough from the original to reduce the word count by 20,000 to just under 100,000 words.

I will be submitting this new manuscript to several publishers over the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, I am redoing the website and releasing the new novel on Kindle. I also reworked the promo video above.

Again, if you purchased the first edition of Tail of the Dragon and would like the updated version, please let me know. I will send you a promo code to download the new Kindle version.

Please Don't Use the R Word

Recently I was contacted by a publisher who is interested in the book. Consequently, I am undertaking a major rewrite of Tail of the Dragon. This involves incorporating a new storyline of about 10,000 words, while simultaneously cutting about 30,000 words from the current edition. (note-anyone who purchased the first edition can email me to receive a free copy of the new book after publication)

I've decided to give a sample of some of the new story line (Quemel's rebellion). Your feedback is welcome-

Chapter 5

Nuriel’s Fractal stood at the heart of the academy campus, it’s position and size indicative of the importance of the work done at the facility. Inside this spectacular structure, researchers wrestled with the language of the Kings, mathematics. The monolithic edifice was a functioning example of the quest to decipher its intricacies. The slowly rotating stack of ellipses was the physical manifestation of a logarithmic formula developed by an ancient mathematician named Nuriel. His famous solution resulted from his work attempting an explanation of the presence of fractal geometry in the shell of mollusks. The building was a massive model of the infinitesimally minute layering of calcium that served as home to the King Snail, one of the little ironies that its inhabitants found so endearing about the place.

During construction of the enormous fractal, its namesake perpetually patrolled the site, causing numerous delays. A story from that period claimed that Nuriel personally tore down three stories of the incomplete research center because the rotation was off by a few nanometers. He told the project manager that any variations from the formula, no matter how minute, made the structure a farce and a degradation of the perfection of fractals.

The inscription above the massive curving entry read “slow the course-bright the path.” This was rumored by students to be a subtle joke on the trail left by snails, but Barmen believed it to be a critique of the well publicized delays that had plagued its creation.

Penemue’s office was located on the ground floor, appropriate given how important his work had been to the development of this department. His old friend was considered by many to be the foremost scholar in several branches of mathematics. His research in the area of harmonics helped quantify the way that music worked to alter physical states. His book, “Harmonic Healing,” was still used by the health sciences school nearly a millennium after its publication. But it was his expertise in encryption that Barman was hoping to use.

“Oh, Barman, good,” Penemue exclaimed as he walked through the door. The frantic looking angel guided him to a wooden chair, depositing with a soft shove. “Look up there and let your vision relax.”

Barman’s eyes moved to the swirling mass of images that swirled just beyond his friend's outstretched finger. At first he could detect nothing but streaks of colored light moving in a haphazard motion.

“What am I supposed to be seeing?” He began.

“Shh. Just relax. Don’t look at anything. Just try to take in the whole field at once. If you focus on any one thing, you won’t see it. Oh, I should write poetry,” his friend muttered, chuckling to himself.

Barman tried to do as directed. He stared at the roiling mass of colors, observing the whole mass, but kept picking out particular streaks, involuntarily following their arc until he lost them in the tangle. He closed his eyes and opened them again, conscious to avoid being drawn to the movement. But there was still nothing there.

“Anything now?” Penemue asked.

“Nothing,” Barman answered, attempting to keep the irritation from reaching his voice.

“Try this,” he said, rubbing something dark on the end of Barman’s nose.

“What did you put on me?” he asked, bunching his lips and trying to extend his nose to see. Then he saw it. Just beyond the black smear at its tip he could clearly see the image of a black swan flying gracefully before the backdrop of an immense waterfall. The sun glinted on the regal bird’s ebony wings and offered a startling contrast with the ebbing blues and whites of the crashing water.

“It’s a black swan,” he said, amazed that he hadn’t seen any of this.

A light lit up the room and the image disappeared. Penemue took some antiseptic smelling towelette and rubbed it across his face, causing him to sputter and swat his friend’s arm.

“Welcome Barman. It has been a while. Can I get you something to drink?” he muttered sarcastically.

“Don’t be such a baby, Barman. I am trying to help you.”

“And how are you doing that?” he asked.

“By showing what we need to decipher the message,” Penemue answered.

Barman thought back to his request to see his friend. He had made no mention of the letter and certainly hadn’t indicated that he needed help decoding it.

“My job is to weigh probabilities. Your word choice, time frame, and vagueness led me to deduce that you have some sort of communique that needs to be deciphered as part of your work.”

“I asked for an appointment at your earliest convenience,” Barman replied.

“Exactly. So I was right,” he said and nodded before continuing. “The image of the swan was visually encrypted. I ran it through a filter that disrupts the visual spectrum. By refocusing your attention you were able to see it.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you did or how that relates to my letter,” Barman said, retrieving the prisoner’s correspondence from his satchel.

“With codes, the message is right there. The secret is discovering the key that reveals it. The key for my little demonstration was the angle of the eyes. With encryption the solution usually depends on two separate keys, one private and one public. Both are needed to decode what is hidden. Often decryption involves mathematics, but not always.” Penemue picked up the letter and studied it intently. Barman related the story of its origin as he did.

“So he wasn’t able to touch the parchment at all?”

Barman shook his head, relating the guard’s story about the meetings.

“Well, the good news is that the cipher can’t be that complicated. The bad news is it's very well constructed. He avoids much repetition, so finding patterns will be difficult. I’m going to need as much information as I can get on this prisoner in order to have a chance of figuring this out.”

Barman dropped a thick folder on the desk and turned to leave.

“We are running out of time on this. You know how to reach me when you have something,” Barman said as he strode into the hallway.

Confessions of an Angry White Dude

 

I am a very angry person. That is probably not the best thing for a Christian to admit, but it is true. I seethe often and visibly. There are plenty of things that make me mad- grocery stores with no self-checkout, toll booths, those creepy statue people who move suddenly and make me squeal like a prepubescent girl. But perhaps nothing makes me more angry than the religious right.

You see, I have to be tolerant of them. That is what the Bible tells me to do, and they usually outnumber me at church. Plus, they all seem to have firearms. But me first impulse is to scream at them with self-righteous indignation.

Why, you ask? Because I am tired of being lumped together with them. I am tired of people assuming that because I am a Christian I hate homosexuals, think that Jesus roots for America in all wars and World Cup events, yell at unwed mothers about the sanctity of life, and vote for Republican candidates. I do none of those things. OK, I might think God is partial to the red, white and blue come Olympic years, but none of the rest.

Philip Yancey, one of my favorite writers, once observed that it would be incredibly sad if the modern church in America were known for those things (he may have phrased it slightly less antagonistically). I agree and am afraid that for many it might be too late to change that perception, but I hope not. I believe that we owe it to the big guy whose name we use to condone all kinds of hideous behavior to try to set the record straight.

Because the truth is this- none of us are good enough to be judgmental or angry or self-righteous with anyone else. We are all desperate, lost, emotionally crippled, self absorbed, scared individuals trying to make sense of it all.

And that also includes me and my issues with the religious right. My anger toward them is just another variation of their misguided vehemence. So, to Fox News, all televangelists, pro-life vocalists, that angry little church that pickets gay funerals, and the Republican party I say, 'I'm sorry. I still disagree with you, but I am sorry for my anger and judgment.'

'But seriously, can you keep it down, just a bit!'

Angelic Warfare

This scene, taken from the Sistine Chapel (my brother nearly got arrested trying to snap a picture of the famous ceiling during our visit a few years back), depicts the war between angels and demons during the final judgement.

Here comes the spoiler- this battle will represent the climax of book three, Oceans of Fire.

Here's what I want you to notice about Michelangelo's spectacular depiction- those cats aren't fighting with pillows. They aren't playing harps or singing hymns. They are fighting to the death. But this isn't the first time that these angels have battled. Revelation 12 says this:


And there was war in heaven. Michael and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon and his angels fought back. But he was not strong enough, and they lost their place in heaven. The great dragon was hurled down--that ancient serpent called the devil, or Satan, who leads the whole world astray. He was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him.

This battle occurs toward the end of Tail of the Dragon, and it happens in heaven. I have been asked by a number of people who have read the book how we can depict violence and injury in heaven? Isn't heaven a place of peace and harmony?

My answer is this- we are told that there was a 'war in heaven.' Unless the war was some kind of celestial Halo tournament and the good guys were quicker with their joysticks, then I assume that means angels were hurt or killed. Just as I assume that if Satan was able to tempt a third of them to go astray, temptation must also have been present in heaven.

Poets & Warriors

I am currently working on a new website, poetsandwarriors.com. This site is in its early stages and being built on a Joomla backbone. I hope to have it ready for release by early summer.

It will allow writers to create an author page, upload their best work, receive feedback on that work, network with peers, and compete with other writers for publication in semi-annual compilations. Those stories and poems that are rated highest at the end of each term will be judged by a literary panel, with the top ten in each category selected for publication.

I will keep you posted on its progress and will certainly be throwing some of my work into the battle (although it will be ineligible for publication to avoid the appearance of impropriety).

Angels' Underwear???

I remember, as a little kid, having to memorize Hebrews 13:2 for my weekly memory verse. Given that I was too young to read, this had to be accomplished by reiterating what the teacher recited. She read:

Forget not to shew love unto strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

I can remember asking what it meant to entertain angels' underwear and being a bit peeved when she laughed at me.

Chad and I wrote the book to try to remind ourselves and anyone else who reads it that there is a spiritual realm, inhabited by angels and demons, who are waging a war. Here in the physical realm, it is all too easy to forget this fact. We are so busy trying to manage our affairs, make a buck, get ahead, get to the gym, get bent, whatever... that everything else fades to myth, mystery or misrepresentation.

The last few weeks have been that way for me. We have been hustling to get our company up and running and EVERYTHING has gone wrong- broken generator, espresso machine, water pump, etc., etc., etc.

During times of stress it is easy to push aside the knowledge that there is a bigger context to our struggles. I nonchalantly pray that God will bless me and then push him aside for the day to get to the real work.

But today he tapped me on the shoulder and reminded me that he and his angels are there- and they have my back.

As we were closing up this morning, I took some of our leftover pastries and cups of hot coffee (a very nice Brazilian blend) over to a few homeless men who were hanging out nearby. After returning to our little mobile cafe, a large African American man approached our window and asked in a very serious voice if we were giving away free food and coffee to the homeless.

For a second I thought that perhaps there was some law against feeding the homeless, but I decided to be honest and admit that we were guilty as charged. He smiled and asked if I had $50. Thinking that he needed change, I retrieved a couple of twenties and a ten, asking if he needed any smaller bills. He smiled and handed me a hundred dollar bill and told me to keep the rest. I protested, but he insisted, saying that doing good should and will be rewarded. He told us his name was Mike and walked away (after I forced him to take a copy of the book).

I am still stunned by this episode. The $50 will not make up for the thousands that our run of misfortune has cost us, but it does something much better. It reminds me that God and his angels are there- and they have my back! It also reminds me that success is not measured in the amount of money that you make, or the number of books that you sell. It is in how well you allow God's blessing to flow through you to the world that you occupy. Mike- you are an inspiration!

By the way- if you are looking for a cute picture of a little angel in swaddling clothes- avoid using the search term: angels in underwear. :)

The Dragon

Central to our series is the figure of Helel. In Tail of the Dragon, he is a secondary character, but remains the driving force of all action in the book. He is a highly charismatic, beautiful, intelligent and proud arella who causes those around him to bend to his will or resist him.

He is modeled on our conception of Lucifer, the angel that, in monotheistic tradition, fell from heaven after leading a rebellion. It is this story, the tale of the created challenging his creator, that led us to undertake this book.

This story is so fascinating to me. How is it possible that God created a being that he had to realize would lead a rebellion? How is it possible that a created being became the foil for his own creator? How could a being, with no conception or evidence of evil, go on to become the author of the Dark Ages, the holocaust, cancer, suicide bombings and Fox News?

Our understanding of Satan is a very Christian one. In Jewish tradition it is less clear that he was a definitive being. The term Satan and ha-Satan (meaning accuser or the accuser) seem to be used interchangeably, indicating that it is either a specific being or a set of characteristics (antagonist, accuser, he who opposes Yahweh, etc.). In the Koran, Satan is a being who is cast out of heaven for failing to bow down to Adam at Allah's behest. He tempts Adam to sin and is cast out of heaven with the human patriarch. He is told that his punishment will be delayed until the day of judgement. But the New Testament indicates that Satan is the angel known as Lucifer, who was cast from heaven, tempted Eve in the garden, and now seeks to destroy mankind. It indicates that he has dominion over the earth and that he will be judged at the second coming and condemned to hell fire.

This Christian version of Satan is our character Helel.

In the second book, By Demons be Driven (currently undergoing first edits), Helel becomes a much more visible character. This allows us to explore some of the earlier questions that I mentioned.

We take a somewhat dualistic approach to the question of sin. In our books, Helel is always clearly a created being who perverts good things in an attempt to undermine God's authority. He is not, however, the author of sin. He is not even the first being to rebel against God. The prologue to the first book actually begins with an episode from a previous rebellion, which becomes a model for Helel's own insurgency.

In books two and three the idea of chaos becomes more and more important. We take the stance that there is a destructive force that Helel taps into and gains some mastery over. However, he is merely a created being who harnesses something that is a force, rather than a being. It is this force of destruction which is the real opposite of God. Helel merely taps into this force to further his cause.

And by the last book, Oceans of Fire, chaos becomes a character in its own right.

God's Equations

I once read a book detailing the history of Albert Einstein’s famous general theory of relativity. It was the work of his life. His attempt was to develop a theory that would be useful to cosmologists in mapping space and time. He wanted to develop a model of the universe that would explain the data of mathematicians and astronomers.

In reading this book, “God’s Equations,” I was struck by a quotation in which Einstein said that through an understanding of math and science, we could get closer to knowing God. Most mathematicians and scientists have long forgotten this point, that their work and the work of theologians is one and the same- reaching out for the one unifying principal of the universe-God.

Very few people in history, in fact very few scientists, have ever fully understood the complexity of Einstein’s theory. Those who have understood it have been overwhelmed by the beauty and harmony of the formula. I don’t understand the formula. I barely can grasp a layman’s description of the formula, but I do understand the awe that scientists have felt in studying the formula.

Several years ago Chad and I went on a trip to Europe. We spent a few days in the Swiss Alps in the little town of Gimmelwald, which is as close to heaven as I have ever been. We hiked up majestic mountains drinking ice cold glacier water straight from the streams. We walked through giant fields of wildflowers serenaded by the clank of cowbells. It is a place of harmony, unspoiled by pollution, overpopulation, waste, development, and all the other scars upon the land. You can see the immense glaciers which melt throughout the summer, you see the rock that these glaciers have ground into fine mineral rich dust, you see the fields nourished by these glaciers, the cows feeding on those fields, fertilizing those fields, the locals taking only what they need. You see a world in harmony and balance, the way that I believe God intended the world to be. I remember the awe that I felt in seeing that world.

Today, I awoke at 5 a.m. I drove to the Inner Harbor through the slums that surround Johns Hopkins. I drove down dark streets strewn with trash. In the predawn darkness, the homeless were already milling about, begging, scrounging, stealing. The bus stops were occupied by those who depend on others to deliver them to their minimum wage jobs. 

As I drove through the cold, dark streets of the city, I thought about that trip. I have been to heaven and I have seen hell. I know there is a God because I have watched the beauty of a waterfall cascading down a sheer mountain cliff in Switzerland. I know there is a devil because I have seen a man reduced to living in a pile of trash on the steps of city hall, his only hope clutched inside a brown paper bag.

God developed certain rules for governing the universe. Objects in motion will stay in motion, unless acted on by an outside force. Gravity exists and exerts its will. A pretty girl will always get better service at a hardware store.

We can choose to understand the equations that govern the universe and realize that they make our lives better or we can ignore them. We are given that choice. We can choose to see rules as a hindrance to our freedom, or a means to maintain a balanced and healthy life.

God created the world and it was good. He told us to be good stewards of that gift. But we, particularly in America, have ignored that mandate. We have subtracted without adding and we shake our hands at the sky asking why it has gone to hell.

We tolerate a world where so much is controlled by so few. We pollute and destroy without thought of tomorrow. We spend as if there will be no tomorrow, no buyer's remorse.

One of God's most basic equations is this- for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction (otherwise known as Newton's Law of Motion). The apostle Paul said it this way, 'you shall reap what you sow.' 

Our book attempts to demonstrate this concept. We see, primarily through the character Gadreel, that action without forethought does not preclude consequence. Jumping without looking doesn't make the rocks below disappear. Gravity will pull you down whether you choose to acknowledge its presence. It's in the equations.

Pops, Larry and Me

The great thing about authoring a blog is that I can deviate off subject whenever I want. To quote Cartman, 'I do what I want.' So, today I am posting a short story that I wrote several years ago. It is a fictional story that I wrote to honor one of the most influential people in my life- my grandfather. It goes something like this:

A Fish Story…of Pops, Larry, and Me

I stood on the bank looking down as the water slid by, uninterested. Where was it going? I knew that on this day it would pass by dozens of guys like me. Tomorrow it would be miles from here and some new river would have crept in and unobtrusively taken its place.

Next year it might get the chance to do its part in forming the ‘Eighth Wonder of the World,’ or drive a Thai peasant from her hut, or maybe find itself imprisoned in a concrete cage and tortured with chemicals.

But for now it just rolled on by not paying a lick of attention to me with my stupid expression and tattered pole.

My bobber fought to join it on the journey. It, like everything else, didn’t want to have anything to do with me. Suspended below was a worm that was not having a good day. He had probably spent the morning minding his own business and now couldn’t quite understand why life was so unfair.

So far his torture hadn’t attracted the audience I was hoping for. He was a gamer, passionately going through the routine, but it was hot and no one else seemed to care.

I had learned in biology class that the scientific name for earthworms is lumbricus terrestris. I still don’t know why that matters or why I need to learn about the geography of Southeast Asia. There are so many things that I don’t want to know. That worm probably felt the same way.

Enough said. It would soon be over for him.

Larry was a wily one. I had never seen him, but I could picture him anyway. Pops had touched him once, before I was born. Every June, when I came back for my annual visit to my grandparents place, Pops would always tell me that he had seen Larry over in the hole “just the other day.”

Pop loved to describe Larry’s gaping jaw, scarred from previous battles. He told me that the old fish had really lived and understood.

“Life is an education,” he would say. “Every day we are learning or we are dying. I guess that Larry still has things to learn.”

But this year there had been no sign of Larry. Maybe he had finally learned it all. Or maybe he just got bored and quite fighting the river. Perhaps he had kicked back and was floating past all those fisherman, smiling a big fish smile because he knew they were there. Maybe he had decided it was time to fulfill his lifelong dream of swimming through a hut in Thailand.

No. He was still there; watching me. He was probably wondering where Pops was. Why hadn’t Pop celebrated the end of the latest ice age by marching along the bank peering, searching, challenging?

But Larry couldn’t know. The war was over, and Larry had won. Mom said that Pop was with Jesus, but I had seen the wooden box lowered into the ground.

After today, Larry wouldn’t have to worry about me either. Every year I counted down the days until my mom would load up her station wagon and drive me the four hours to Pop and Gammy’s summer home. As we drove through the gates that announced our arrival, the anxiety that had built throughout the school year would leave me in an instant. Like that gasp of air that hits your lungs after surfacing from a deep dive, I would instantly feel alive and free. But this would be the last time.

Sure the house would be here, but I knew it would never be the same. I knew that, after today, Larry was rid of me. Truth be told, I doubt that I ever caused him any real concern. Pops, on the other hand, was what my English teacher would have called a worthy protagonist.

I closed my eyes against the tears that welled and could hear the familiar preface, “The first time I saw Larry he laughed at me.” Every year he told me the story before we ever ventured down to the river, and every year I would give the same reply.

“Pops, fish can’t smile.”

But Pops would patiently explain that there is a language deeper than words that all of God’s creatures understand. He would tell how Larry had challenged him, and he had no choice but to pursue.

And one year Pops had caught up.

“It was a perfect mountain afternoon. Not a cloud in the sky, and the air was so clean and bright you could taste it,” he would say.

“I was staring at the water when a long shadow caught my eye. A passing cloud I thought. Then my pole jerked ferociously and I knew what the shadow really was.”

For the better part of an hour, the two combatants waged war, joined by an almost invisible connection. But even the bravest of warriors wears down. Every creature has its limits.

That day Larry reached his. When the moment came, all the fight left his shimmering body. He followed along helpless…acceptant.

A pair of leathery hands lifted him into the horrifying and suffocating brightness. And then, inexplicably he felt himself falling.

Pops told me that as he pulled Larry from the water and held him up to look him in the eyes, an unexpected crack of late summertime thunder caused him to start and the giant fish had tumbled from his grasp.

Pops always smiled when he told me this, and I suspected that he was happy that Larry had gotten away. It seemed that it had been enough to wear the big fish into submission, to pull him from the water and look into his black eyes.

We continued to pursue Larry, year after year, but maybe Pops hadn’t really cared about catching him. As he had gotten older he seemed to focus less on Larry and more on me. In a way Larry became a silent participant in our comfortable triumvirate.

Over the last few years, Pops had seemed to wilt before my eyes. We still went to the hole and sat and talked, but he seemed increasingly distracted. He drifted off for minutes as if he was actually some place far away and had inadvertently forgotten to bring his body along.

Getting up and down off the logs that we used as fishing perches became increasingly difficult, and I saw the pain that the effort caused him. Last year had been the toughest. Our last fishing expedition was cut short. Pops had gotten cold. It seemed really odd, even to a dummy like me, since it was eighty degrees in the shade.

Before we headed back up the hill to the house, he told me that he loved me (which had strangely frightened me) and began talking about the river. He said that although we call the river by a specific name, that was just for convenience.

“The name is really a marker of time, not the river. The river is actually many rivers, and none. It is a part of a whole and it never stays, but also never leaves.”

“It is OK,” he said. “That is just the way things are.”

I could still see the intensity of his eyes as he said those words to me. I didn’t really understand what he said, that last time. But somehow I knew that he was right. It was OK. As I pulled in my line, I pictured Larry swimming around in that thatched hut, and I smiled.

HOW v. WHY

I have taken a few days off from the blog to work on a new business venture, a mobile kiosk that will soon be moving through the streets of Baltimore, spreading joy and dispensing vanilla lattes. As I was working on adapting the plumbing and electrical systems, a thought occurred to me- you can't run water through a wire, but you can run electricity through a pipe.

This rather profound thought occurred to me as I was wiping the water that had just burst from a pipe out of my eyes, realizing that I had failed to turn off the electricity. Luckily, I did not electrocute myself, but I did learn something- morons shouldn't mess with plumbing.

I also realized that sometimes, we as humans, attempt to use a wire to funnel water. We use the wrong tools to build the birdhouse. We use the wrong lens when examining a problem.

Let me give you an example- my brother (the real brain behind the book) is a doctor, is engaged to be married and will soon be a first-time father. As a doctor, he needs to look at a problem that a patient brings from a detached, scientific perspective. However, if he uses this same perspective in dealing with his fiance', he might experience the following:

[fade in on couple getting dressed for dinner party]

Honey. Does this dress make me look fat?

Well, dear. Given that you are pregnant, your body is storing higher levels of glycogen, thereby increasing your bmi, so technically you are fat. The dress really has nothing to do with it. 

[zoom in on crying girl and fade out]

In other words, you can't use your medical school training to comfort your pregnant fiance'. You need to use different paradigms when examining different types of problems. You can't use philosophy to work out a scientific problem. You can't use science to work out a philosophical problem.

This is because science answers one specific question- how? Philosophy and religion, on the other hand, don't offer the necessary framework to understand how. They are meant to help discover why. Part of the problem that exists between science and religion is that too often scientists forget that they don't have the why tools, and philosophers sometimes mistakenly believe that are able to reason out the how.

In the Fallen Angel Trilogy, we attempt to use both. I hope we don't electrocute ourselves in the process.

Alcoholic Angels

Did you hear the one about the drunken angel? Apparently no one has. I was amazed that of all of the rather controversial items that we take on in the book, the issue that generated the most push back was the concept of angels drinking.

There are several characters in the novel who have a taste for yanin. Although it is never explicitly stated, it is inferred that this is some type of wine.

While to me this seemed like a minor point of controversy, [after all we endorse a version of the big bang, we  imagine angels using wormholes, we conceptualize a network through which dark energy is continually recycled, we even have angels mining the material of quasars] many of the earliest reviews contained questions about drinking in heaven.

Here is our answer: perhaps angels never tasted wine in heaven; however, the fact that Lucifer, an angel living in heaven, was able to be tempted to reject God and was able to convince a third of the angels to follow suit seems to indicate a level of temptation in heaven.

If there is no temptation, there can be no choice. Sin needs opportunity in order to exist.

Sin is most often the misapplication or perversion of a good thing. Food is good; gluttony is bad. Sex is good; promiscuity is bad. Football is good; the Dallas Cowboys are bad.

So an angel walks into a bar and orders a martini...

* I would have given proper attribution to the picture above, but found it in several locations and wasn't sure who to attribute it to. If it is yours, thanks!

The Trouble With Time

The concept of time has been a point of contention between philosophers and scientists for thousands of years. To this day many different ideas about the nature of time exist.

Sir Isaac Newton believed that time was a fundamental structure of the universe. This realist view postulates that time is a real thing that people and events move through.

Immanual Kant argued that time is a mental framework which allows us to experience, rather than a real thing. It is a means for us to organize and understand the world, much like language.

Einstein developed the idea that time is dependent on the spatial reference of the observer. It is this theory which opens the door for ideas like time travel or relativistic travel (theories that we utilize in the book).

I believe that all of these ideas are partially true. And in the book we use these different definitions of time in order to explain some of the ways in which science and religion both fail to see the bigger picture.

Here is an example:

Monotheists are adamant in arguing that God created the earth in six literal days. Scientists are equally adamant, although much less exact, in arguing that  it had to take billions of years for the earth to form. This is because both sides are choosing to define time in a very Newtonian way (which is ironic since monotheists believe that God is omnipresent and most scientists embrace the theory of relativity).

While I might not be able to perceive time in anything but a realist view, except perhaps philosophically, I am rational enough to understand that my perception is limited. I can conceive that if there is an all powerful deity, he might not be subject to time the same way that I am. Here is an example from the book:

A deep voice interrupted his thoughts. A word rang out in the stillness. He did not recognize the word, but he somehow knew it. It was the word. The word of initiation that gave life. He couldn't repeat it. As soon as it was spoken he could no longer hear it, but he saw it begin.

            The great orb suddenly exploded in a dazzling display of light. The giant ball of gas became instantly alive with life-giving energy and heat. The immense glowing globe drifted off to the side and Ariel could see, in the newly brightened space, a much smaller sphere approaching. How was he seeing Gaia?

            A voice answered inside of this own head.

            'You must understand that here and there do no exist for us. We are where we are and now we are creating a new world, a world that you helped prepare. You did well. This is a special creation. One that has been planned for a millennium and will be the site of a great and terrible chapter in the history of the Kingdom. In time the entire universe will come to realize that this creation marks a pivotal turning point.  Many will be tempted to doubt the wisdom of this creation, but I ask you to have faith that it is for the greater good that we gather here today.’

            What did this mean? How could this creation be both great and terrible? He was so excited to be witnessing this and so confused by what he was seeing and hearing. There was no here or there? What did that mean? Again the voice answered him inside his own head.

            'Some things you are unable to understand, but your faith is strong. We would ask that you continue to believe. We are not restricted by space and time the way that the created are. While you are here, in the throne room with us, these things do not apply to you either. You are literally in that small solar system in the Milky Way, but you are also here, securely seated in Mount Kol. You are going to witness a process that requires a week, but to you it will seem like minutes have passed. The word of creation has been spoken and that single word spawns all of creation, but we will try to explain it to you as we go.'

This scene comes from our conception of Gaia's creation. We hope that it gives you an alternative way to consider some of the issues that science and religion fail to find common ground on.

Ink on the Skin, Ink on the Page

When I was 21, I decided to get a tattoo. It was 1991 and I was a third year freshman in college. You might recognize this image as the logo for Led Zeppelin's record label, Swan Song.

After 21 years I still love the music of Zeppelin and I still kind of like my tattoo. Through the years it has meant many different things to me. 

In my twenties, it was an homage to my favorite band. Like many young people, I used music as a means to craft a sense of identity. Metallica, Guns n Roses, Rage Against the Machine- my musical influences reflected my lifestyle- fast and hard.

Later, after finishing graduate school and beginning my professional career, it reminded me of Icarus, the mythological character who flew too close to the sun with wax wings. He fell into the sea and drowned. This tattoo gave me a warning about the dangers of blind ambition and excessive pride. I chose to ignore the warning.

In my mid-thirties, I had the first of two children and this tattoo became the good angel, sitting on my shoulder, reminding me of the necessity of making the right choices. Or at least that was the intent. Given the choices that I made, perhaps it was a fallen angel, tempting me to do things that caused me to fail. My divorce would seem to argue for that interpretation.

Through the years I have often been asked if the angel was flying upward or falling downward. My answer is YES. It depends upon your interpretation.

Today, this slightly blurring, subcutaneous ink is a reality check. It is a reminder of the war that is going on between good and evil every day. It is a reminder that we live among the fallen, but we have a way out. My tattoo is Gadreel, or Ariel. You will have to read the book to decide which one.

God of Science

Religion that dismisses science lacks credibility. Science that dismisses religion lacks context. This week the Dalai Lama hosted the 26th Mind and Life Conference in the hopes of improving the discourse between the religious and scientific communities.

This is, unfortunately, all too rare in the world these day, particularly in the west. Where buddhist monks have learned to educate themselves and engage with the scientific community, too many priests and pastors seem strangely dismissive of much that science has to say.

And western scientists seem to take some sort of repugnant pleasure in an institutionalized condescension toward all things religious.

I believe that often both sides fail to look for common ground and shortchange their respective causes in the process.

Tail of the Dragon is a very theistic enterprise. The book's premise is that there is a God, who created all. But that God is a God of science. We do not dismiss concepts such as the big bang or evolutionary cosmology. We attempt to show how it is possible that the material that the earth is composed of could, in fact, be billions of years old, and could also have been formed by the word of God in six literal days.

Here is a quote from chapter one:

Creation itself was a perpetual condition, a never-ending ripple emanating from the utterance. The Kings spoke existence, and from that point of entry a continual well of creative force sprang. But that ongoing creative force differed from the initial creative act. That beginning came directly from the source, and it was Hasdiel's job to detail that initiation.  Today, instead of a new galaxy, with its innumerable worlds and species, new fellow arella would be created.  Arella, as celestial beings and the direct servants of the Kings, were always prime creations, derived directly from the utterance. 

I believe that I am a creation of God, but not directly. I am not a prime creation. God did not speak me into existence. Rather, he created the species that I have descended, and evolved, within. I was born through procreation. I have the color eyes, skin, hair, etc. that my adaptive genes have inherited. I don't believe that I descended from an ape, but I do recognize that both species were created using very similar materials and genetic maps.

The book's premise is that God initiated our species with an act of direct creation. From that direct creation, the species has continued recreating itself, adapting and adjusting as needed. God built in the genetic flexibility to allow us to adapt, because God is a God of science and uses scientific processes to accomplish his goals.

Much of what the church once taught is now thought of, even within the church, as superstitious nonsense (remember Galileo). And science understands far less than it tries to pretend (remember gravity). Until both sides forego their arrogance and realize that we are infinity tiny creatures trying to comprehend a vast universe, both will lose the opportunity to learn from the other.

119,677 Words- For What????

I remember asking my sixth grade teacher, at the Christian school that I was attending, why God would put the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil in the Garden of Eden? My reasoning was that it was unfair for God to create these inexperienced beings, artificially insert this random prohibition, then place a demonic, and infinitely more sophisticated, tempter in the garden with them.

I was unsatisfied with the answer.

That is one of the questions that we bring up in the book. We bring up these questions not to provide an answer, but rather, to provide a fresh perspective to approach the issue from.

I would guess that many might take issue with our use of the two trees placed in the garden as a gateway for interstellar travel, but I would hope that by coming up with an alternative way of looking at the problem, you, at least, wrestle with the issue, and hopefully draw your own conclusions.

Book One- Done! Now What?

She carefully carried the urn up the treacherous trail toward the overlook.

Months ago I wrote that line, the first of Tail of the Dragon. Now, the book is complete, has been published, and is available on Amazon. I have a box of paperbacks with a cover that I designed. It envelops words that were composed by my brother and myself. It is a pretty cool feeling.

And yet now I am confronted by the daunting task of getting people to read it. How do you get people to invest their time and thought into something that you created? That is a question that I will wrestle with in the months to come, but I believe that it is worth the effort.

Why?

Because I believe that this book (and series) does more than just tell a story. I believe that it wrestles with truths that most of us living in modernity no longer struggle with. I believe that it begs questions that we have stopped asking.

Philip Yancey and Dr. Phillip Brand wrote a book called 'The Gift of Pain.' It details Dr. Brand's experience working with leprosy patients, who lose their sense of pain. This desensitization causes them to injure themselves repeatedly, without realizing it. They begin to destroy parts of their bodies because they have no warning system telling them what they are doing.

Sometimes when I watch people stumbling around, staring at their smart phones, I wonder if we have become mental lepers, walking across hot coals, oblivious. Writing this book has rekindled some of the awareness that I had lost. My hope is that it does the same for others.