Space Trek: The Endless Migration

A few months ago I finished reading Space Trek: The Endless Migrationby Jerome Clayton Glenn and George S. Robinson. The cover art grabbed my eye: I thought it would be one of the old cheesy sci-fi novels I enjoy so much. But I looked a little closer and saw the catch phrase across the top of the cover: "Space colonies may begin before the year 2000! Are we ready?"

Naturally, the first thing I looked at was the year the book was published: 1978, around when I was learning the alphabet.

I couldn't resist - I had to see what the authors had to say about the projected future of technology and civilization. Naturally, they were off-base about the space colonies bit.

They spoke quite highly of Syncon (short for synergistic convergence), which was "a new kind of conference. Several hundred highly diverse people got together over a period of a several days to discuss and examine the various future space options." Started by The Committee for the Future, it was apparently a "well-known" conference. Never heard of the Syncon convention? Neither has Google or Bing.

Nevertheless, in 1972 Syncon brought together a bunch of people who said that were on board for a given space project or technological initiative but felt unsupported by the rest of their peers across their industries. The idea was to show them all that they all had the same vision and goal. How's that working out for ya?

In 1977, US Congressman Olin Teague introduced House Concurrent Resolution 451, which was a pitch from to adopt a proactive approach to space exploration and energy harvesting. This type of resolution is the political equivalent of newspaper on the floor of a bird cage, so it's no surprise that it hasn't become a significant historical document. But the authors of Space Trek predicted that Resolution 451 "could become a Magna Carta for the future." Ouch. It was a bold prediction though, I'll give them that much.

That Committee for the Future doesn't appear to exist anymore, although if I felt like taking a tour of their old headquarters the book helpfully lists it at 2325 Porter Street NW, Washington, DC 20008. Google Streetview hasn't been down that private road, but the overhead view reveals an amazing looking estate. SourceWatch says:

In September 1973, the CFF moved its headquarters to a mansion in Washington known as "Greystone" and called it the New Worlds Training and Education Center. A number of volunteers lived there in a sort of commune, receiving room, board, and a small stipend.

Nice work if you can get it.

Once Glenn and Robinson started discussing the logistics of living in space, they wondered what sort of entertainment "Spacekind" (their term for humans living in space) will enjoy. Um... ahem:

What kind of entertainment will be available? Microwaved coverage of the Army-Navy football game? Electronic sexual affairs with Earthkind? Sexual playpens with spherically padded walls and a large water-filled ball as a bed?

Over the next twenty years biofeedback technology is expected to become far more sophisticated and microminiaturized. It's far from fantasy to imagine eyeglasses, hats, pants, and other articles of clothing equipped with electronic stimulators and sensors; these would transmit impulses, messages, even sensations via small microwave units to one's lover in a kind of electronic sexual affair.... Those of Earth might even get some "sensation" of what it's like to experience sex at zero-G.

Ah, the '70s.

In a chapter on the possibility of space war, they discuss
what weapons might be used in the future.

In a "space war," the weapons could be frequency manipulation, particle accelerators, lasers, psychic or parapsychological "sorcerers," orbital rockets, and hunter-killer satellites.

I can almost hear the combat chatter over my microwave radio now: "Fear me and tremble, space soldiers! I am Gortak the Invincible, and I call upon all the powers of the underworld to rend your craft to pieces!" followed by "OH S$%@! OUR HULL IS BUCKLING! ALL HANDS TO THE ESCAPE PODS!"

The book frequently falls into the trap of '70s spirituality, spouting New Age catch phrases throughout and predicting that the new social construct of Spacekind would require the evolution of a new morality. Morality, the authors state, is "an intellectually codified set of responses accepted by civilizations as survival-oriented behavior patterns under a given set of influences. And these influences, or prevailing realities, change."

Hogwash, I say. Morality is more than just a collective thrust towards survival. It's thinking like that that glazed over atrocities like the Holocaust or Tianenmen Square; when the inherent dignity of the individual is denied, the deniers are capable of all kinds of evil. Those who say morality changes say so because they have to find a way to justify the fact that they aren't living according to the "previous" moral code. To those people, I would ask - if you were vaulted into the past (by a sorcerer, for example), would you willingly change your moral code to match that of the era in which you lived? If you ended up in the heart of Puritan or Victorian times, would you adopt a lifestyle of chastity because that was the social norm? Or conversely, if you landed in 1930s Germany, would you be silent in conformity with the majority and let the Jews be rounded up?

The book isn't all retrospective goofiness, however. Glenn and Robinson do make a few predictions which turned out to be true. In discussion on the broad impact and potential spinoffs of technological advancement, they predict that:

Third World countries will no doubt make great moves toward conventional industrialization; however the catch-up move will be integration into the Space Age communication system. Through satellites and computers, villagers in Africa will receive the best education and medical diagnosis and treatment that Industrial Age money can buy. Farming can be greatly improved through satellite photography.

And I absolutely love this quote from another one of the Committee for the Future's workshops on what society must do to promote general human advancement:

This requires a world-wide and real-time interactive information system with easy access to all individuals. This new media gives and receives information when you want it, where you want it, and in the style you want it. It is the key condition to nurture decentralization. It gives local access to world resources and it allows all people the opportunity to evaluate, monitor, and model the dynamic relationship between population distribution and resources distribution. The mistakes, injustices, and change options become apparent to all. It is the little boy saying the emperor is naked, the emperor has no clothes.

Perhaps some sort of series of tubes can make that happen.
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Sage Advice

Some very good insights on balancing the technology department while contributing to corporate strategic planning, from UniGroup's CIO Randy Poppell:

You have to hire the best people. There’s nothing magical about organizations. It’s like chemistry—you have to find the right mix of people and the right mix of skills. When you have some really talented people that manage your infrastructure, security, networks and application development, it makes it a lot easier to empower them and let them run with their particular area of expertise. You provide the guidance they need from time to time, but it frees you to focus upward in the organization and be more valuable versus trying to manage the details of the operation. Also, if you leave the details to your team and empower them to work through issues, they grow and become better leaders.

I like the way he thinks.
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Clever Ad

This is one of my favourite bus ad campaigns:

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Regarding References

One of the curious Protestant habits which I've noticed has vanished from my vocabulary since my conversion is the tendency to include the book, chapter, and verse when quoting Scripture.

I remember when I first started going to Mass after having made the decison to become Catholic, and like any dutiful Christian, I took my Bible along with me. For those Catholics who may not be familiar with Protestant worship services, any time the Scriptures are read, the reader will usually say something like, "Please open your Bibles to I Corintians 13, verses 1 to 13." One then hears about five seconds of tissue-thin pages rustling before the reader begins.

In the Catholic lectionary, which is the big book containing the Scripture readings for each day's Mass, the text prompts the reader instead to announce, "A reading from the first letter of Paul to the Corinthians." And that's it. So when it came time for the Word to be read aloud at my first Mass, I dutifully had my Bible ready to look up the chapter and verse to follow along, but was left scrambling to find the passage from memory. Little did I know that at the back of the church there is usually a supply of Missals which have all the readings, along with their specific references in Scripture, for churchgoers to follow along.

But getting back to my original point: it almost seems to be a point of pride for Protestant Christians to announce the references of their Bible quotations in their discussions with each other. Rarely have I encountered a doctrinal debate where the debaters look up each others' references on the fly. So in looking back at when I used to do this, and looking at how some of the Protestants in my current circles do this, I must wonder why.

The only conclusion I can come to, and I point the finger at myself in this as well, is that giving the Bible reference in a verbal discussion announces to your listener that you really know your Bible. And not in a subtle way; it's not as though, like Jesus, I was amazing those who heard me expound the Scriptures. Instead, by saying things like, "Paul said in I Cor. 13:1 that if he speaks eloquently but without love, he is a clanging gong," I was subconsciously broadcasting my intelligence and my wisdom and my holiness. Of course, in the grand scheme of things this means that I was actually broadcasting my foolishness and my insecurity. Like a clanging gong.

It bears mentioning that I am referring here only to verbal communication. In written communication one does have the opportunity to consult the references given to support a position on a certain doctrine, and can thus prepare a response against those references. But the staccato machine gun method of spouting off chapters and verses in a verbal discussion is pointless and even arrogant.

When Jesus quoted Scripture he did not do this. When on the cross he cried out in a loud voice, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?" he did not preamble it with, "Like the Psalmist said in Psalm 22, verse 1..." On the contrary; the written Word of God was so deeply internalized for Christ, the incarnate Word himself, that it was supremly natural for him to use it to express his deepest emotions.

That is the calling of every Christian, and I call out my fellow Catholics on this especially. Think of what you do just before the Gospel is read at Mass: you trace a cross on your forehead, on your mouth, and on your chest. As you do this, you say a silent prayer: "May the Word of God be on my mind, on my lips, and in my heart."

Absorb the written Word of God. Live it; breathe it. But don't feel the need to add footnotes to your conversations when you speak it.
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Light

Throughout the themes of my life, a recurring one is the concept of light. One of my favourite Bible passages is Matthew 5:14-16: "You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden... In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your father who is in heaven." A lit-up city is a welcoming sight to a weary traveller, even today. It signals invitation, warmth, rest, food, and companionship. But all too often I encounter Christians who take this passage to mean something more like, "Let your light shine before others like a cop with a flashlight checking their sobriety."

Over the years, my dad and I have developed a Christmas custom - we exchange light-themed gifts at Christmas. One year it was a ball cap with lights built into the brim. Another year it was a micro multi-tool with a fold-out flashlight; this little trinket has calmed many a restless child. There was the USB-powered laptop lamp and the flashlight with a fold-out tripod built into the handle.

And to top it all off, I married a girl whose name signifies the very coming of the morning light itself (Dawn).

When the ancient Israelites were seeking their release from captivity in Egypt, God sent a plague of darkness on the land. Their pagan captors were shrouded in deepest night for three days, but the Israelites had light where they lived. They travelled through the desert after escaping Egypt, God himself led the way in the form of a pillar of fire by night to light their way.

At the Easter Vigil in the Catholic Church, we start in darkness symbolic of the tomb, and hear a reading of the creation account in Genesis. "Let there be light!" the voice of God thunders. The priest processes into the church with the new pascal candle for the year, freshly lit, and from that monstrous candle he lights a handful of small tapered candles held by nearby parishioners, who pass it on and on until the whole church is aglow in a warm, soothing light. We sing, "The light of Christ has come into the world." Then we erupt into the majestic Gloria and celebrate the Resurrection.

The Nicene Crede, in defining the nature of Jesus, calls him, "God from God, Light from Light, True God from True God." John's Gospel tells us that the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

And shortly after Christmas we recall the oriental magi who followed the light of a star in their quest to find the prophesied Messiah. Yes, indeed, light is all throughout Scripture and the history of our faith.

As I take my bus ride home through downtown Winnipeg each workday, I am amazed at the volume and variety of Christmas lights erected. It seems they are adding more and more each day. There is the obligatory Santa, sleigh, & reindeer, but there are also angels galore, poised in symphonic symmetry lining both sides of Portage Avenue, trumpets raised to proclaim their tidings of great joy, which will be for all people.

Something about light resonates in the human spirit, even in this age of rampant secularism. As a species, deep down we bear an intrinsic knowledge that we have been lifted out of a darkness more pressing than any clouded night sky; a spiritual shroud has been lifted. On the anniversary of this singularly great event, we manifest this deep knowledge with the simple gesture of Christmas lights - for this is the celebration of the dawning of a new era; a fulfilled convenant; a holy promise kept.

The Messiah - Jesus, the Lord - has come, and he beckons us to respond. This Christmas, I invite you to revel in the Light of Christ; to drink it in and to be awash in it. Pray for holiness, pray for peace, pray that the light will spread.

Then reach out with your candle to those next to you still cowering in fear of the banished darkness. You have some very good news to share with them.
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This Just In #7

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Superman Condemned by IPCC
DP - Metropolis

The International Panel on Climate Change today scolded the Man of Steel for his role in global warming. "Through his excessive use of heat vision, our computer models calculate that Superman's own cumulative contribution to global warming over the past five decades has been a full 0.6 degrees Centigrade, nearly a third of the total estimated warming in that same time period."

Scientists understand little of the last Kryptonian's physiology, but they do know that his great strength and speed, the gift of flight, and his heat vision all derive from his body's unique ability to store the energy released by our sun.

Since Superman has been fighting crime so long and in so many different locations around the world, it has been difficult to track how many times he has used his heat vision. But the best estimates indicate he uses the superpower an average of 3.1 times per day, at an average released energy of 43 gigajoules per use, approaching nearly 50,000 terajoules annually. By comparison, the Hiroshima bomb dropped in 1945 released approximately 60 terajoules.

"Superman's considerable impact on crime has been without a doubt monumental," continues the IPCC press release. "But we call on him to minimize the use and the output power of his heat vision so that we can all look forward to an environmentally stable and crime free world in the future."

Superman could not be reached for comment.

No Year For Priests (In Canada)

This is disturbing.

In June of 2009, Pope Benedict XVI announced the beginning of the Church's "Year For Priests."

By contrast, the exact same search on the US Bishops' website reveals:

Why? Why? Why?

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Left Behind

I've just returned from a grand time at Arlington Beach Camp smack-dab in the middle of Nowhere County, Saskatchewan.

This camp has a large part in my history and the history of my family. It was where my parents' courtship quickened, where they were married, and where they've semi-retired. For as long as I can remember, I've gone there at least once a year. I attended as a summer camper, years later as a camp counsellor, and on a college retreat. It's where my wife's parents met my parents for the first time as our separate worlds merged.

Grandpa & Grandma's old yellow beachfront cabin is long gone, supplanted by a house moved in from a nearby town and subjected to major renovations and additions. With it and the workshop/bedroom combo across the road as well as all the lawn space for campers and tents, it's not unusual for my parents to have 25 people - or more - staying there during family camp.

The camp itself is coming up on its 50th year, and is a ministry of the Free Methodist Church of Canada. That is the branch of the Christian tree in which I held membership before my conversion to Catholicism. Let me tell you something: Free Methodists can sing. The worship services at the old "tabernacle" are renowned for their heartfelt praise, especially the Sunday morning service signalling the end of Family Camp. There's nothing quite like participating in the multi-part harmonies of hundreds of willing, talented voices rendering "How Great Thou Art" or "All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name" when the singers mean every word of it. It brings tears to my eyes every time I get a chance to experience this type of fellowship.

As a Catholic, I am obligated to attend Mass every Sunday. In a major city like Winnipeg, my options for what time of day to attend Mass vary from the Saturday vigil Mass at different parishes at 4:00 pm and 5:00 pm, and on Sunday itself I'm aware of Masses at 7:50 AM, 10:00 AM, 11:00 AM, 12:00 AM, 4:00 PM, 4:30 PM, and 9:00 PM. Contrast that to the humble country chapel of St. Rita's Parish in Strasbourg, Saskatchewan. At 37 KM distant, it is the closest Catholic parish to the camp, and the priest services three other rural parishes as well. There is but one Mass to attend, and it usually conflicts with the main Sunday worship service at the camp. And the music there... well, when you are led in worship by an old lady pressing "play" and "stop" on a tape recording pieced together from cassette versions of the Catholic Book of Worship III... let's just say the music there leaves something to be desired.

So when visiting my family, I routinely miss out on the grandest worship experience I could have with them in favour of fulfilling my Sunday obligation to attend Mass. But don't think that just because it's an obligation that I'm not eager to be there. The miracle of the Eucharist would draw me there even were it not an obligation. And I know that I could find a priest with low enough standards to give me dispensation [permission] to skip Mass because of the fact that I'm traveling.

I keep coming back to the Gospel of Matthew (13:44-45) where Jesus describes the kingdom of Heaven as a treasure in a field, which a man finds and sells all he has so he can buy the field. Usually I think of this in terms of what else the buyer received when he bought the treasure - mud, weeds, serpents, and other yucky stuff. But this last week I've been thinking more deeply of what I've given up (the "all he has" part) in order to gain this treasure. With rare exceptions, I've given up participating in worship with a building full of eager believers, all of whom are willing and able to put their praise into song. For the most part, I've given up being able to study the Bible with people at a similar or greater level of knowledge than myself. Don't get me wrong: there are Catholics out there that do know and love Jesus personally, who can and do sing, and who read the Bible studiously. But we are the exception, and we're outnumbered by Catholics who are at Mass because they have to be.

God is renewing his Church; of this I am certain. I am also certain that he has a plan for me as part of that renewal. And I know that his reward for any losses I incur will more than compensate me (as if I'm entitled to compensation at all). So I thank God continually for bringing me to this deeper level of Truth and for making it worth the journey. I thank him for the gift of Jesus, both on the cross and physically present in the Church.

It has been worth it, Lord. As much as I am aware of that which I have lost, I have no regrets.
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Fun with Water Rockets

In case you didn't see it already, here's a video I put together of a fun family outing over the weekend.

God the Father: A Father’s Perspective

[this is a talk I gave on June 17/09 at the CSE Prayer Meeting, St. Boniface Pastoral Centre - it was recorded; you can listen or download it via this link]

Speaking about God the Father is a daunting task. Jesus himself spoke of God his father over fifty times in the Gospels, which to me says that there is a lot to say.

Approaching the topic from the perspective of an earthly father, while a narrower focus, is probably even more challenging. I must admit, having children has transformed my understanding of love and selflessness. Yet it is impossible for me to ponder the mystery of the heavenly father without being made very aware of my own parental shortcomings.

God’s love is perfect, after all. The story of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32) illustrates this most clearly, and it is the one burned into my mind’s eye with the most clarity. If you’re not familiar with it, here it is in a nutshell: the younger of two sons wants his inheritance early – basically implying to his dad, “I wish you were dead.” His dad grants him the money, and he takes off and lives a wild life, partying, drinking, sleeping around, and doing things which would scar him for the rest of his life, until one day the money runs out and his party friends abandon him.

Desperate, this young Jewish man finds a demeaning job tending to pigs, which are, in the Jewish tradition, among the most “unclean” of all animals. He finds his mouth watering as he watches the pigs eat their slop, and then suddenly he gets a brainwave. “I can go work at dad’s house and at least have a full belly.” In my mind this is another example of his selfish mind because even after all the hurt he has caused his father, he is still only thinking about himself. Yet, he goes home.

This is the part that really gets me.

The gospel says, “While he was still a long way off, his father saw him.” When I read this, I get the sense that his dad was watching, waiting. He had been the whole time. I picture an old man standing on the roof of his house so he can get a good view, and when the servants finally coax him down in the evening he sleeps in a room with an open window facing the road. While he sleeps, he leaves the candle burning to project his welcome, and faces the window to be better attuned to the first sound of footsteps. At daybreak the servants find him on the rooftop again, watching the distant road, trying to recognize his son’s gait in every passing traveler. They take his food to him there but he eats little. His mind, his body, his entire being is wrapped up in the fate of his lost son.

This, by the way, is what I think of when preparing for the sacrament of confession. It reminds me that God burns for me to come and to restore my friendship with him.

Finally, one day, his vigilance bears fruit and he sees his son. I imagine him flinging a plate of food off his lap, and opting for a faster descent than the stairs by jumping off the rooftop. He lands awkwardly and twists his ankle but the pain means nothing to him; he runs, runs, RUNS to his son, sobbing, embracing, kissing, shouting words bursting with love and deepest affection. The son starts into his prepared speech: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you…” but the father cuts him off and calls out for a robe and sandals and rings for his fingers and, “Kill the fatted calf, for tonight we celebrate!”

This son, who was hoping to live out the rest of his days quietly as a servant in a back room and without calling attention to his quite open shame, is restored to his place of honour and dignity in the father’s house. I don’t think it’s what he wanted, but it’s what the father had for him. He was not perfectly penitent, but he was back, and that allowed the father to shower him with love and blessings, which more than compensated for his imperfect act of contrition.

This is the love of a father for his son. This is the love of God the Father for you. For me.

It is difficult to step out of one’s adult or teenaged mind to accept this love. We are conditioned through countless influences to be self-sufficient, to be strong, to show no sign of weakness. Yet my young children are a continual reminder to me of the simplicity of a child’s love. My four daughters, ages two through eight, love me and actively show it through cuddles, kisses, words, and a desire just to spend time with me. My newborn son I’m sure is at least somewhat fond of me, and I am confident this will blossom into that same kind of love as he grows.

Often after receiving communion at Mass, I am holding one of my younger daughters. Every now and then she’ll be especially cuddly and cozy and will nestle deeply into my arms, head tucked down, gentle eyes blinking contentedly. She hopes that moment will never end.

In those moments I am reminded of Christ’s words in Matthew 18:3: “Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” This was his answer to the question of who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Jesus wants us to trust and love his father with all the simplicity of a child’s mind.

So in those moments after communion, I try to visualize myself, a frumpy, overweight, awkward man, nestled snuggly in the arms of my heavenly father. It’s a funny mental picture, I admit, and the instinct to reject it is strong. But deep down I know it’s how God loves me; I know he longs to shower me with his affection and he wants me to spend time with him.

Let’s look a little deeper at the types of fatherly love shown in the tale of the prodigal son.

• There is the love which endures abuses and insults, yet does not fade. It abides the “I wish you were dead” moments.
• There is the love which respects our free will. The father does not prevent his son from leaving, nor does he go out with a small army to bring his son forcefully home. His desire for our genuine act of free love drives this respect.
• There is the love which watches, undying, vigilant, ever-hopeful. Nothing can shake the father or distract him. He is singularly focused on the moment of his son’s return. Now most of you, if you’re here, you’re here because you’ve either already returned, or else you never left. But you must acknowledge that before your baptism and the restoration of your human dignity, at one point the father watched and waited for you.
• There is the love which restores us to our dignity at the slightest glimmer of our return to the father.
• There is the love which perfects our imperfect remorse. It completes the inarticulate cry of our soul; it tells on our behalf the whole story of our sorrow, for we are often too mired in our sin to comprehend it fully ourselves. You only need to start the process and turn to God to cry, “Help!” He’ll do the rest.
• There is the love which retains the temporal consequences of our sins despite the perfect forgiveness we receive. Later in the tale, the father tells his elder son, “All I have is yours.” The inheritance which the younger son squandered is gone forever, despite the father’s open re-acceptance of him. This may seem illogical, but look deeper and you will realize that it actually reflects perfectly the dignity to which we have been restored. The father’s standards of good behaviour have not changed, despite our sin or his forgiveness. We are still expected to follow his commands and to reap the harvest we have sown.
• There is the love which perceives the pain and disunity the sins of one cause to the family as a whole.
• There is the love which rewards the faithfulness of the father’s elder son in the next life. “My son, you are with me always, and all I have is yours.” It is a better thing never to stray from his love.
• There is the love which rebukes the arrogance of the self-righteous ones who scorn the return of the sinner, reminding them that there is more cause to celebrate the salvation of a lost one than the fidelity of the faithful.

Pondering this parable makes me wonder if my own love for my children would be so perfect were one or more of them to stray from the faith.

In those moments I draw strength from the love God the father showed for me, for I know that I too have been lost and have returned to his embrace on many occasions.

If, heaven forbid, a child of mine turns from the love of God, I pray that God will give me the strength and depth of fatherly love to sit on my rooftop, watching day and night. After all, he did it for me.