bearing blog


bear – ing n 1  the manner in which one comports oneself;  2  the act, power, or time of bringing forth offspring or fruit; 3 a machine part in which another part turns [a journal ~];  pl comprehension of one’s position, environment, or situation;   5  the act of moving while supporting the weight of something [the ~ of the cross].


  • The 2005 Baby Name Rankings are out.

    This is, of course, of capital importance to me, since I’m having a baby in August.

    In what has become a Mother’s Day tradition, Jo Anne Barnhart, Commissioner of Social Security, today announced the top baby names in the United States for 2005.

    “Based on all Social Security card applications for children born last year, Emily and Jacob are the most popular baby names for the seventh year in a row,” said Commissioner Barnhart.

    Well?  Don’t you want to know what they are?

    Boys:

    1. Jacob
    2. Michael
    3. Joshua
    4. Matthew
    5. Ethan
    6. Andrew
    7. Daniel
    8. Anthony
    9. Christopher
    10. Joseph

    BOOOOOOOOR-ING.

    Girls, a little better:

    1. Emily
    2. Emma
    3. Madison
    4. Abigail
    5. Olivia
    6. Isabella
    7. Hannah
    8. Samantha
    9. Ava
    10. Ashley

    This is really only nine names, as everyone knows that Emma and Emily are the same person.  I have to admit that I’m impressed by the performance of Ava, if a little disappointed, because I’m pretty sure that Ava (or something that sounds like it) was On The List, and now it has to come off because there is no way I am going to name any kid of mine one of the Top Ten, except maybe as a middle name, and that only if there’s a particularly choice saint’s name among them.

    And what’s up with Ashley?  Doesn’t anyone remember 1982?

    Since I live in Minnesota, it behooves me to check the popularity around here.

    Boys in Minnesota:

    1. Ethan
    2. Jacob
    3. Samuel
    4. Jack
    5. Andrew
    6. Benjamin
    7. Alexander
    8. Joseph
    9. Logan
    10. Tyler

    Boooooor-ing.

    Girls in Minnesota:

    1. Ava (WTF?)
    2. Grace
    3. Emma
    4. Emily
    5. Ella (a.k.a. Emily, a.k.a. Emma)
    6. Olivia
    7. Abigail
    8. Madison
    9. Sophia
    10. Hannah

    This isn’t going to change things much for us, I expect.  I prefer to steer clear of the top 50 male names and the top 100 female names (counting sound-alikes as the same, unlike the Social Security website).  Our sons, so far, are pretty safe:  Oscar’s number 116 (driven, I think, by Spanish-speaking families), and Milo’s number 728. 


  • Tomorrow is May 13th.

    May 13th, 2006 is…


  • Yum.

    The Girl Who Ate Everything attends a chocolate symposium.



  • Breaking news…

    Jimmy Akin is reporting that Fr. Altier and Fr. Weizbacher of St. Agnes parish will be moved to another assignment.

    Seems like it’s little more than a rumor at this point.


  • Exes.

    A lot of people bandy about the term "ex-priest" to describe a man who once received Holy Orders and since has been officially removed from clerical activities — that is, "laicized" (the correct, general, and non-derogatory term) or "defrocked" (a term which implies a punitive laicization). 

    "Ex-priest" is technically not correct in Catholic understanding.  We believe that Holy Orders, like baptism, forms an "indelible mark on the soul" — that a priest validly ordained is a priest forever.  Indeed, priesthood survives death, unlike that other nuptial state of being, matrimony.   So it isn’t surprising that even a laicized priest is bound by some rules that non-priests aren’t.  Jimmy Akin, ever a fount of interesting and detailed tidbits, has the story.

    The restrictions aren’t just about administering the sacraments.  They also cover things like serving in leadership roles in parishes and Catholic universities, and even teaching theology in non-Catholic universities.  One thing I didn’t know about laicization is that, although many of the restrictions are generally applicable, in practice each laicized priest receives an individual, personally tailored list of restrictions

    Also interesting is the fact that being laicized doesn’t automatically release a priest from celibacy — he isn’t automatically free to marry.  It is possible for a laicized priest to receive a dispensation from priestly celibacy, but that appears to be a second, separate decision.


  • The exact same God.

    Dean Esmay fisks a dumb Islamophobic e-mail that’s making the rounds.  It’s a good post; read the whole thing.  I learned some things from it.

    I only have a quibble with one point that Dean made, and I concede that it’s at least partly a subjective point (in that differences of opinion matter to the conclusion).  Several of Dean’s commenters appear to agree with me:

    Muslims believe they worship the same exact God as the Jewish and Christian God. They worship the God of Abraham.

    I disagree that Muslims who have an accurate understanding of both Judaism’s and Christianity’s concept of the divine would believe that they worship "the same exact God" as Jews and Christians do.  I think I have a reasonably accurate understanding of all three, and I would not say that Muslims worship "the same exact God."

    Obviously I don’t mean that there are multiple gods hanging about in the heavens, one worshipped by Muslims, another worshipped by Christians, and more worshipped by other people.   Clearly, every monotheist would agree that there is only one, and if so, then all of us desire to worship the same one, the Only God.   And yet… it’s a circular argument to say that we must be worshipping the same God, by definition, because there can’t be more than one.  I take it as given:   when someone says "they worship the same God that I do" that person must be making more than just a statement of monotheism; that person is saying "their beliefs in God are sufficiently similar to mine."  How similar, then?

    What does it mean, if two people (say, John and Jane) worship "the same exact God?"  I say it means that John and Jane agree on the essential characteristics of the nature of the deity they each worship, and any disagreements they have about the nature of the deity are very minor.  They can, I think, disagree about the actions of the deity, either what they think the deity did in the past or what the deity will do in the future or how the deity will judge some hypothetical action or how the deity interacts with man.  They can disagree about how man should interact with the deity too.  But if John and Jane differ significantly in matters concerning the nature of the deity — what that deity is like — I say they’re not worshipping "the same exact" deity. 

    The rub, of course, is what "significant" means.  Define it too broadly and everyone worships a different god.  Define it too narrowly and there is no difference at all among all the world’s religions — we all worship "the same exact deity," we all always have, from ancient Greeks and Aztecs to modern Hindus and Muslims — and we lose some of the power of language to help us make useful distinctions. 

    In general, the essential characteristics of the Christian God must be identical with those that existed before the creation of the world or any other beings.  Any that didn’t exist before, such as any that have to do with God’s relationship to His creation, aren’t (by definition) "essential" — inherent in the very essence, or nature, of God.  Nothing essential to God can depend on our existence.  That means, strangely enough, that concepts like "just," "merciful," "Creator," as important as they are in Christian theology, needn’t be included in the list.  John may believe God is merciful, and Jane may believe God is vindictive, and that does not mean they are not talking about the same Being — though undoubtedly their relationships with That Being are very, very different.

    Even more strangely, this restriction means that "Jesus," the Incarnation of the Second Person, is not an essential characteristic of God, because God hasn’t always had a human body (though he does from now on).  And that means that there’s no tautology here:  it is, in fact, logically possible to be a non-Christian who worships the same God that Christians do.   (And it’s possible to define "Christian" in such a way that some people called Christians do not worship that same God.  Indeed, many do.)

    There are three traditional descriptors that Christians have applied to God as we understand God to exist from all time.

    • God is eternal: God had no beginning, but always was; and God will have no end.
    • God is unique:  the only eternal entity in existence.  There is one God, no more, no less.
    • The eternally unique entity God is eternally also three persons, all equally the one God and all co-eternal, but distinctly related to one another:  the Second Person is eternally begotten from the First Person, and the Third Person proceeds from the First and Second.*

    So intertwined are these three descriptors that we typically apply a single term that we understand to encompass all three:  The Holy Trinity.   Eternal threeness and oneness:  that’s what the term means when we use it.   And that’s how I use it, of course.   Someone else might have a different name for the same set of ideas, and if so, fine; we’ll still call it the same concept.

    We do have more personal-sounding names for the First, Second, and Third persons of course:  we call them the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit (or Ghost).  But in an effort to be as general as possible, I’m sticking to ordinal notation (which is also traditionally Christian, if less commonly used).  The main thing is the relationship among them:  there’s one who begets, one who is begotten, and another who proceeds somehow (not, presumably, involving begetting) from the others.     John may name them "Father, Son, and Spirit" and Jane may name them "Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier;" even though I believe for numerous reasons that John’s set of names are more precise, the names are less significant than the comprehension of the relationships when it comes to determining whether John and Jane worship the "same God." 

    So now, about the identities and overlaps among the sets labeled "Christian," "non-Christian," "believers in the same God that I’m talking about when I say the Christian God."  Draw yourself one of them executive-summary four-way charts:

    • Believe in the Trinity, deny the Incarnation, and you’re not a Christian but you are a believer in the "same God."
    • Disbelieve in the Trinity, believe in the Incarnation, and you could plausibly call yourself a Christian but not a believer in the "same God."   (I have reservations about this, to be explained later).
    • Disbelieve in both Trinity and Incarnation, and you are definitely not a believer in the "same God" and it’s getting a lot less plausible for you to call yourself a Christian. 
    • Believe in Trinity and Incarnation:  you might be a Christian who believes in the Christian God.

    My quibble with the Muslims-worship-the-same-God-as-Christians assertion is, of course, that they explicitly reject the Trinity.  There is no God but God, and that’s that.  (Christians, OTOH, say "There is no God but God, but there’s a little more to it than that.")

    Back in the comments to Dean Esmay’s post, Dean objected to this line of argument with the following:

    Really, honestly? Even though they say it’s the God of Abraham, even though they believe in the virgin birth of Jesus and revere him as one of God’s prophets, even though they say the Bible is a holy book merely flawed and incomplete, it’s still not the same God? Not just a misunderstanding of that God, but a totally different God? Because they argue over scripture?

    Okay, then I repeat: the Jews aren’t worshipping the same God either. Neither are the Mormons. Tell me where you want to stop with this.  Orthodox Christians disagree very deeply on certain fundamental issues of scriptural interpretation with American evangelicals–indeed, they’ll tell you that American Protestants use deeply warped and false translations of the Old and New Testaments and that things like the New International Version are borderline heretical because they’re so screwed up. So are they not worshipping the same God either?

    "They’re not worshipping the same God because they disagree with our interpretation of the Bible" is just [a] way of dehumanizing the Muslim and making his religion seem more alien, more evil.

    Taking those points backwards: 

    (1) some people might think "they don’t worship the same God" is an inherently dehumanizing statement, a statement of condemnation, and one that makes the other seem more evil.  I don’t think so.  I agree that it is alienating, in that it points out a difference.  I don’t agree that it’s a denigration.

    (2) It would be a correct application of the definitions I’ve laid out to say that Jewish people, as well as members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, Unitarians, and a number of other groups, worship a different sort of God than do (most well-catechized) Orthodox Christians, Catholics, and Protestants; but it wouldn’t follow to say that Catholics, most Protestant, and Orthodox worship different gods, because all are Trinitarians. 

    (3) The reasoning isn’t at all "because they argue over Scripture" — heaven knows, even people within the same denomination of the same religion do plenty of that —  but because they differ in their basic doctrinal concept of the deity, which is, after all, what we are trying to nail down.  From the Catholic and Orthodox point of view (and really the Protestant one too, though they may not realize it), this question is quite distinct from a difference over Scripture, because belief in the Trinity may be supported entirely from an argument from the earliest Christian Tradition.  We have the Apostolic and Nicene Creeds, for example, which don’t appear in Scripture at all but which concisely summarize the Trinitarian belief.  From the Muslim point of view, the questions are not distinct, because all religious authority rests in the Muslim Scripture and the Muslim claim is specifically that the Muslim God is the same God described in the Jewish Scriptures.  So Dean may be forgiven for missing that point.

    I find that even though I’m intellectually quite satisfied with these definitions, I feel some conflict about asserting that Jewish people do not worship "the same God" that Christians do.  Perhaps that’s because I have always viewed them as worshipping a God who is identically the First Person of the Trinity.  But now that I think of it, it may be more accurate to say that they worship a God who is the three persons telescoped into one.  In any case, if the threeness of God is truly essential — and I believe that it is — I am forced to conclude that the Jewish concept of God is, like the Muslim one, not the same as the Trinity, even if Jews, Muslims, and Christians all apply the term "the God of Abraham" to the deity.  Whether Jews and Muslims worship the same God, I’m not qualified to say.  (Here’s one argument that they don’t; I leave it to the reader to evaluate, and if anyone knows of a good counterargument I’ll post it.)

    Finally, about the reservations I have about the definition of the term "Christian."  Personally, I think people should be allowed to label themselves whatever they want.  But that doesn’t mean I have to use the same labels if I don’t find them helpful.  And any time I am in a serious discussion where definitions matter I will negotiate on an accepted set of terms and definitions in advance, because mutual understanding is impossible when the interlocutors mean different things by the same words. 

    So, I’m not bothered if, say, an atheist calls himself a Christian because he admires Jesus of Nazareth and tries to live by his moral exhortations.  (Though I wonder why he would use the term Christian, since Christ is not Jesus’s human name.)  I’m not bothered by various not-technically-Trinitarian groups calling themselves Christian either.  I’ll even do it myself colloquially.  Many times, it’s useful in conversation to apply the word "Christian" very generally.  But any time that definitions matter, I prefer a narrower, precise one, one that includes Trinitarianism as a requirement. 

    *There is some slight disagreement among Trinitarian Christians about whether it is necessary to include the "filioque" ("and the Son") in the Creed immediately after "we believe in the Holy Spirit… who proceeds from the Father."  Some Christians don’t.  I only wish to point out that if the Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son, then it is necessarily true that the Spirit proceeds from the Father; and the latter doesn’t exclude the former.  Thus I don’t think it represents an essential difference, but one of emphasis.


  • “The Star-Spangled Banner:” Better than I thought.

    David Kopel of the Volokh Conspiracy posts the lyrics to verses 2 through 4 of "The Star-Spangled Banner."  If it’s been a while since you last sang them, check it out.

    He also helpfully posts two other items of interest:  (1) the lyrics of "The Texan War Cry," which was written during the Texan war of independence and set to the tune of "The Star-Spangled Banner;"  and (2) the lyrics of "To Anacreon In Heaven," the British song that gave us the tune in the first place.

    I agree with Mr. Kopel that the lyrics to the verses after #1 have a certain timeliness today.   I suspect he was thinking of the third verse, which chides citizens whose fearfulness leads them to oppose fighting.   But I was struck a bit by something from the second.  Taking the flag as a symbol of American values, or "what this country stands for," or whatever you like — the idea that the blowing of the wind "now conceals, now discloses" it seems pretty apt in the age of spin.

    And I learned something, too.  The version I learned in school — yes, once upon a time I learned to sing all four verses — went like this in the fourth stanza:

    Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just,

    And this be our motto:  "In God is our trust."

    The unqualified assertion of justice vaguely bothered me even as a third-grader.  So imagine how pleased I was to learn from a commenter on the Volokh thread that Francis Scott Key’s original manuscript goes like this:

    Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,

    And this be our motto – "In God is our trust,"

    There now, isn’t that better?  I wonder who’s responsible for the change!


  • Homework.

    Oscar has a class later today at the local nature center, organized by the parish homeschooling co-op.    At the end of last month’s class about trees and leaves, the naturalist assigned some options for "homework," one of which was to draw an accurate picture of a leaf.  (I forgot about it; Oscar remembered, and produced his drawing yesterday.)

    As we were driving in the car today, Oscar asked me:  "What’s ‘homework?’"

    I started to answer, It’s schoolwork you do at home, then thought — no, wait, we do almost all our schoolwork at home.  That isn’t going to make any sense.

    So after a minute I said, "Sometimes, kids who go away from their houses all day to a school building to do their school work — you know, on the school bus — at the end of the day, their teachers give them more work that they are supposed to take home with them to do at their house.  They finish that work and they take it back to school and give it to the teacher in the morning.  That’s called ‘homework’ because it’s the part of their work they do at home."

    I tilted the rearview mirror to look at his face.  He was looking out the window, thinking about it.

    "And the teacher at the nature center class calls it ‘homework’ when he asks you to do some work at home to get ready for the class, because it’s work that you do at home, too."

    He didn’t say anything else.  I didn’t either, because the thought struck me that, when you put it that way, the notion of ‘homework’ seems completely absurd.  You mean that the kids leave the house in the morning, they don’t come back till late afternoon, and they STILL aren’t DONE yet?!? 

    I guess it’s what you are used to.  It seemed normal to me when I was growing up.  Undoubtedly it seems normal to all the families with children that do homework every night.   But from where I’m sitting now, it looks like just another drain on already-stressed families.  Why can’t they get the work done in six hours of school?  Why send more home?   

    I can see, maybe, an ideal whereby kids and parents will sit down and discuss the homework, parents will get to know how their kids are doing and kids can seek help from their parents, and it would be a few compensating moments of togetherness after a long day of separation… but does that really happen anywhere?  In many families, children’ll do it alone in their rooms (that was me).  In others, there’s so much chaos at home that they won’t be able to concentrate.   

    But you have to have homework! It’s another one of the institutional-education assumptions that is maybe correct, but maybe not, too.  And yet another one that works really well for some students, not so much for others.  What went on, day after day, in the homes of all those kids I went to school with who never turned in complete homework?  Day after day, I assumed they were lazy or stupid.  What was really going on there?


  • Cesarean art and home birth memories.

    "Disturbing and Vivid."  That’s how Alicia headlined it in her link.  These images really resonated with me, especially this one, even though I’ve never experienced cesarean section — well, not as the mother, anyway.   

    The ghostlike and luminous, impressionistic (and yet hard-edged) quality of the artwork is very much like the mental images I carry from my second child’s birth about two and a half years ago.  That birth, at home, was almost textbook-smooth, uneventful really, but very intense, and I spent much of it in the altered mental state that a friend calls "laborland."  My strongest memory is of an almost synesthetic experience during the (fairly short) pushing stage.  I described it like this in my birth story:

    Suddenly I am hanging from them, squatting down, as a contraction comes over me. In surprise I shout, "Oh my God, I’m pushing!" My body surges deep inside, and I feel the baby descend. I have barely recovered when it happens again. Here comes the contraction, and I sink down, hanging, and at the bottom of it the baby drops through me just a little farther.

    And again. I can nearly see in front of me my own pelvis, not like a photograph but instead some internal mind’s eye picture of it, a fantastic hinged cage of ivory opening up (an ice cream scoop’s halves sliding one inside the other, an arcade’s claw game unclosing, a bracelet’s clasp retracting into itself). Each flex reveals a glimpse of a round red fruit, releasing it heavily inch by inch.

    Clicking through the art on that site seems, a little bit, like seeing a nightmarish alternative ending of the same dream.  The luminescent ovoid in the picture I linked above — well, that’s not far from the "round red fruit" I was seeing back then.

    My impression is that, if I can have such weird, disjointed, dreamlike mental images of my own peaceful homebirth, I can easily see how someone whose births went awry and were recalled with pain and regret and a sense of violation — could create art like this.

    UPDATE. More comments on Cesarean Art from VoirDire Subculture, another interesting blog. Check ‘er out.


  • A bit of a puzzle.

    What’s particularly interesting about this poem?

    The pleasure of Shawn’s company
    Is what I most enjoy.
    He put a tack on Ms. Yancey’s chair
    When she called him a horrible boy.
    At the end of the month he was flinging two kittens
    Across the width of the room.
    I count on his schemes to show me a way now
    Of getting away from my gloom.

    Here’s a hint:  It was penned by Neal Whitman, who blogs about linguistics and phonology at Literal-Minded, at the request of an acquaintance in Hollywood.

    Give up?  The answer’s in Neal’s post here.


  • Tech ed.

    Minnesota is, according to Education Week (as reported in the Star Tribune), second to last in "technology in schools:"

    In today’s first-ever grading of educational technology for all 50 states and the District of Columbia, Minnesota is just barely ahead of Nevada in its emphasis on technology and use of data in education. Minnesota lags behind much of the country when it comes to student access to computers and high-speed Internet, infusing technology into graduation standards and requiring that teachers and administrators be trained in how best to use technology in the classroom.

    To give the Strib credit, though, they point out why we should be careful not to take this too seriously:

    But the report says nothing about a link between technology and student achievement. In fact, the report’s authors acknowledge that many of the lowest-scoring states on this list have some of the highest student test scores.

    And some of the top-scoring technology states — such as West Virginia and Arkansas — have a tradition of struggling schools.

    I am extremely suspicious of proposals, like one mentioned in the article, to  "better prepare students for jobs in engineering and other technology-aided careers" by spending more money and getting students to sit for more hours in front of computer screens.  If you want to prepare students for jobs in engineering, then make sure they graduate with a solid background in mathematics and the natural sciences.  And what do you mean by technology-aided careers?  What career isn’t aided by technology?

    And while we’re at it, let’s have none of this conflation of "science and technology."   They are not the same.  By "technology" is usually meant, imprecisely, "computer use," which is a far cry from understanding anything about Newtonian physics or inorganic chemistry or cellular biology or how to apply calculus techniques (or even algebra) to physical problems.  Now, computer programming courses in high school — provided they don’t make a boneheaded choice in computer language — is another thing, and can be part of a balanced approach to mathematics.  But for the most part, especially given the nearly-criminal gaps in student achievement, time and money spent on "tech" is time and money that’s clearly not helping.

    That’s not to say that there’s no use for intensive skills training in computer applications in high school.    The best use I can imagine would be for vocational/technical programs that hope to train students to enter a decent-paying job right out of high school, or to prepare them for a technical college.   Imagine, for example, a clever partnership with local businesses — businesses that might hire the young people as summer interns, assist the school district in purchasing licenses for specific software applications (moving beyond Word, Excel, and Powerpoint and into, say, the specialized software that tracks inventories at the regional hospital; or the suite that manages human resources and payroll at the local university; or the CAD program that the techs use at the manufacturing plant just outside town…), and ultimately interview graduating seniors for entry-level positions.

    Still, much of the hand-wringing that will no doubt be heard in Minnesota school districts over this "D" in "technology" is probably ill-founded.