Vatican announces Jews can be ‘enlightened’
{Subscribers: Warning, the following includes provocative religious commentary}
I am quite dumbstruck by Pope Benedict XVI who announced recently that God would be asked to “enlighten (Jews’) hearts so that they may acknowledge Jesus Christ, the savior of all men.” According to the 2/7/07 USA Today’s edition, if the Good Friday prayer is answered, “all Israel may be saved.” For reference, blog readers may wish to access the original news item by searching for “Good Friday prayer revisions spark debate.”
The word “enlighten” is an improvement from the Vatican for the word “faithless,” sometimes translated in various Catholic prayer books as “perfidious” or “treacherous.” Much of this change has to do with the Pope’s unraveling of Vatican II doctrines, which may seem to the faithful as too liberal a view of Christian-Jewish inner faith dialog. I had hoped by now the Vatican would have reviewed its long history of hatred and fear of the Jew, but I am afraid Pope Benedict is far too conservative a figure head to allow for such reasonable tolerance.
This prayer, of course, takes me back to a perspective of teaching about the Holocaust in my university classes. Students are surprised, even if they are Catholic, to learn how much poison has been used to degrade and humiliate, even to quarantine Jews from the Church’s faithful. Sooner or later, the argument always comes back to who crucified Christ. What caught my eye and ear last semester when I raised this history of the Church were a few young men, or boys, snickering on the back row. Since they had not snickered before about any topic, and did not sicker after the presentation, I had to wonder just what they were thinking. I wish I hadn’t been so tolerant of their whispers. Did they have the same lesson from their local priest? I suspect so.
On an interfaith (Catholic, Baptist and Jewish) journey/pilgrimage to eretz Israel, or for others, the Holy Land, I welcomed the opportunity with my rabbi friend and Catholic priest to join them for a Sunday service at one of the beautiful churches in Jerusalem. The fact that we were “shot at” with stick rifles by young boys in the birth village of Sirhan Sirhan was another story, perhaps another blog. What I still remember is the Phillipino priest who reminded the faithful of who, once again, murdered Christ. I bring this incident into my class when we review Catholic Church policies that, in part, shaped the Holocaust. But surely the word “enlighten” is a safe word, isn’t it?
It does assume Jews are unenlightened. What is it that Jews don’t know? Why does the Church insist, or even return to failed conversion policies? Do we need to be reminded of the Vatican’s history of kidnapping Jewish children and baptizing them in the name of the Lord? Do we need to review the history of Pope Pius XII and his much debated history of indifference to the plight of European Jews? It is well documented how many Jews he protected within the walls of the Vatican. What isn’t as clear is his outright and total rejection of the Jewish policies of the Third Reich. Is this where the word “enlighten” is taken to? What other context is there? Jews should have converted when given the opportunity in the last 20 centuries. They didn’t, or if they did, it may have been simply to save their lives.
A few months ago Pope Gregory took issue with Muslims in reciting an old text composed by a medieval Byzantine emperor residing in Constantinople. In that speech he quoted the emperor’s views on forced Muslim conversions, something he was probably concerned about as Constantinople was under threat as the old capitol of the crumbling Eastern Empire. The Pope might as well have signed one of the scandalous cartoons depicting Muhammad which enraged millions of pious Muslims. He has not exactly apologized for those remarks; rather, he clarified what he was intending to say, not what he meant to say, or how Muslims interpreted what he meant, or intended to say.
Why does the Church keep doing this? The Old Testament is not “old” to Jews. It is simply, and very clearly, The Tanakh, the Hebrew Bible. Jews have no need to convert to Catholicism. Jews have no need to be enlightened about the Savior of the World. For Jews, that didn’t work. It still doesn’t. Why does an institution as stately as the Vatican keep repainting the story that Jews are the epitome of the Devil? (See Church history, Medieval Period).
When I learned today that I was going to be “enlightened” on Good Friday regarding what I should believe, and if I believed it along with all the other Jews alive, and in blessed memory, then all of the Holy Land would be saved. Is it only because of the heartfelt Rhapsody which would initiate the beginning of the End Times? Don’t we have enough work to do on the ground, without getting into Christology?
Though this short missive will not make it to the desk of the Pope, I do wish His Holiness would use some common sense, based on the terrible results of this campaign that has been diligently spent on Jews for two millennia. Jews do not need to be saved. They never have, nor will they ever be saved by the Vatican’s teaching. What will repair the damage is for the Church to not see as its main business the hysterical need to convert everyone on the globe who is not yet saved.
Pass the matzah, please.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Monday, October 8, 2007
Does the Universe Blah Blah Have Meaning?
Does the Universe Blah Blah Have Meaning?
A colleague of mine died unexpectedly just a few days ago. I’ve been quite flummoxed by the sudden death, especially as she had just moved into the office next to mine. Her death conjures up old and still confusing memories of another colleague who took her life quite a few years ago, and her death was a shock as well. Life always has meaning, we’re conditioned to believe, because human beings say it is so, but in the Sunday Edition of the New York Times (Oct 7, 2007) I read a quite provocative and stimulating two page advertisement that featured 12 scholars and scientists who tried to answer the equally flummoxing question, “Does the Universe Have Purpose?” This is one of those Latin logical arguments, isn’t it? Somewhere in the perfectness of Greek logic, can’t we say, Life has meaning, therefore the Universe has meaning, therefore both were “meant” by something which brought meaning to somebody’s theological mind, right? Maybe not?
Of course life, and the universe has meaning if you have faith, if you want to believe that’s so, if you can’t face the vast meaningless, random events theory that a few scholars offer for faith believers to chew on, but by and large, everybody wants to believe that we have purpose, and so by extension, the Universe must have purpose too, for we are part of the Universe. You can see the logic, yes? You can even add a Creator in there, if you think it will help find meaning.
But so long as humans talk to other humans, humans will tend to say, of course the Universe has meaning. But then a few of the scholars in the advertisement
(www.templeton.org/purpose) offered some challenging perspectives that humans might not want to think about, at least in the context of meaning. Dr. Neil deGrasse Tyson, an astrophysicist and the director of New York City’s Hayden Planetarium, wrote something that smelled a bit funky. After agreeing that religious minded people might want to believe that God has given them purpose, he goes on to write: “But if you’re one of the 100 billion bacteria living and working in a single centimeter of our lower intestine (rivaling by the way, the total number of humans who have ever been born) you would give an entirely different answer. You might instead say that the purpose of human life is to provide you with a dark, but idyllic, anaerobic habitat of fecal matter…” Go to the website for further olfactory details…
Now I’ll admit, as long as humans pontificate ad nauseum about meaning, well, the little bugs in the world (microscopic, and those we sometimes run in panic from) bring on a whole new “context.” What about their meaning? What about their existence? How do they fit into the purpose-thing? Who is their bug God? Don’t they have a say? Of course not, of course not, just the humans get to own “meaning” right?
I know, life is so beautiful, and often, so not, that surely it was “designed.” And, to muddy the waters even more , humans have written that it was so. There, that proves it. But aren’t those deliberations just a poor human’s desire to make meaning out of everything? I’m a bit leary and weary of the pastoral/religious responses I’ve heard over the years, but then I know that’s what they’re supposed to say. Nothing new there. But the human rationale, or argument, for purpose just doesn’t seem convincing, and by the way, I’m a pretty up-beat guy, so it’s not any nihilistic notion that I offer. But when ever I hear anyone espousing the truth about this, it nearly always turns anthropomorphic, and then, I wonder, who’s trying to persuade whom?
Socrates had it right, as he had no faith with the philosophers of the heavens. Instead, he questioned why humans believe what they believe. He often found adults who knew they were right, and then, he began to help those poor Greeks learn that what they knew was just the opinion of someone else. Perhaps that’s all we’ve got. And then there’s The Buddha’s remark, “ I don’t recall saying anything about the (Hindu) gods.” Well, we have much to wonder about, don’t we? Please read the 12 scientists/scholars reflections on line, unless you read the Sunday paper. It’s okay we ask the questions. It’s the insistent answers that bug me sometimes.
A colleague of mine died unexpectedly just a few days ago. I’ve been quite flummoxed by the sudden death, especially as she had just moved into the office next to mine. Her death conjures up old and still confusing memories of another colleague who took her life quite a few years ago, and her death was a shock as well. Life always has meaning, we’re conditioned to believe, because human beings say it is so, but in the Sunday Edition of the New York Times (Oct 7, 2007) I read a quite provocative and stimulating two page advertisement that featured 12 scholars and scientists who tried to answer the equally flummoxing question, “Does the Universe Have Purpose?” This is one of those Latin logical arguments, isn’t it? Somewhere in the perfectness of Greek logic, can’t we say, Life has meaning, therefore the Universe has meaning, therefore both were “meant” by something which brought meaning to somebody’s theological mind, right? Maybe not?
Of course life, and the universe has meaning if you have faith, if you want to believe that’s so, if you can’t face the vast meaningless, random events theory that a few scholars offer for faith believers to chew on, but by and large, everybody wants to believe that we have purpose, and so by extension, the Universe must have purpose too, for we are part of the Universe. You can see the logic, yes? You can even add a Creator in there, if you think it will help find meaning.
But so long as humans talk to other humans, humans will tend to say, of course the Universe has meaning. But then a few of the scholars in the advertisement
(www.templeton.org/purpose) offered some challenging perspectives that humans might not want to think about, at least in the context of meaning. Dr. Neil deGrasse Tyson, an astrophysicist and the director of New York City’s Hayden Planetarium, wrote something that smelled a bit funky. After agreeing that religious minded people might want to believe that God has given them purpose, he goes on to write: “But if you’re one of the 100 billion bacteria living and working in a single centimeter of our lower intestine (rivaling by the way, the total number of humans who have ever been born) you would give an entirely different answer. You might instead say that the purpose of human life is to provide you with a dark, but idyllic, anaerobic habitat of fecal matter…” Go to the website for further olfactory details…
Now I’ll admit, as long as humans pontificate ad nauseum about meaning, well, the little bugs in the world (microscopic, and those we sometimes run in panic from) bring on a whole new “context.” What about their meaning? What about their existence? How do they fit into the purpose-thing? Who is their bug God? Don’t they have a say? Of course not, of course not, just the humans get to own “meaning” right?
I know, life is so beautiful, and often, so not, that surely it was “designed.” And, to muddy the waters even more , humans have written that it was so. There, that proves it. But aren’t those deliberations just a poor human’s desire to make meaning out of everything? I’m a bit leary and weary of the pastoral/religious responses I’ve heard over the years, but then I know that’s what they’re supposed to say. Nothing new there. But the human rationale, or argument, for purpose just doesn’t seem convincing, and by the way, I’m a pretty up-beat guy, so it’s not any nihilistic notion that I offer. But when ever I hear anyone espousing the truth about this, it nearly always turns anthropomorphic, and then, I wonder, who’s trying to persuade whom?
Socrates had it right, as he had no faith with the philosophers of the heavens. Instead, he questioned why humans believe what they believe. He often found adults who knew they were right, and then, he began to help those poor Greeks learn that what they knew was just the opinion of someone else. Perhaps that’s all we’ve got. And then there’s The Buddha’s remark, “ I don’t recall saying anything about the (Hindu) gods.” Well, we have much to wonder about, don’t we? Please read the 12 scientists/scholars reflections on line, unless you read the Sunday paper. It’s okay we ask the questions. It’s the insistent answers that bug me sometimes.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
"Does the Universe Have a Purpose?"
Does the Universe Have a Purpose?
The New York Times ran a special 2 page advertisement featuring the comments of 12 scientists and scholars answering the question, “Does the Universe Have a Purpose?”
The short answers can be found in the Week in Review section (Oct 7, 2007) issue of the Sunday New York Times. The slightly longer responses can be found at
www.templeton.org/purpose (not hotlinked, sorry)
These are fascinating and quite thoughtful replies, and soon I’d like to chip in and add a 13th comment, but for now, please try to find the special feature as I am sure you and your favorite conversationalist could have a hey-day with the questions, and replies. I’m tempted to use the site when I start introducing Socrates in a few weeks to students in a “World of Ideas” class.
The New York Times ran a special 2 page advertisement featuring the comments of 12 scientists and scholars answering the question, “Does the Universe Have a Purpose?”
The short answers can be found in the Week in Review section (Oct 7, 2007) issue of the Sunday New York Times. The slightly longer responses can be found at
www.templeton.org/purpose (not hotlinked, sorry)
These are fascinating and quite thoughtful replies, and soon I’d like to chip in and add a 13th comment, but for now, please try to find the special feature as I am sure you and your favorite conversationalist could have a hey-day with the questions, and replies. I’m tempted to use the site when I start introducing Socrates in a few weeks to students in a “World of Ideas” class.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
What are You Reading/Why are You Reading?
What are You Reading/Why are You Reading?
cnn.com just reported on America’s reading habits, an update from the 2002 National Endowment for the Arts report which offered a fairly bleak, perhaps just discouraging sign that more and more, fewer and fewer of us are reading, but then the question is,
What are we reading? Here’s the article in case you’d like to read it.
http://www.cnn.com/2007/LIVING/wayoflife/08/21/reading.ap/index.html
But then I began wondering if I had made the quota for the year, as an older near retirement age, aging literature professor. So if you don’t mind, I’ll pass along a few titles that have been quite rewarding, some more so than others, some which disappointed, and some I couldn’t finish as I didn’t have to write a paper or review.
Hope you enjoy the list, and they are all recommendations. Lastly, I didn’t read these last week, but over the last year.
I’ll start with the last book read, a recommendation, and one I actually started to read a second time as I wanted to more clearly remember everything the author wrote.
Bruce Bawer’s While Europe Slept was quite an eye-opener, and made me realize how naïve I was about the effects of Muslim immigration, population surges and Scandinavia’s complacency with integration. I believe the paperback is coming out on Sept. 11.
While all sorts of books on Buddhism are available to the public, I started rereading one book that I found in our Honolulu hotel several years ago, The Teaching of Buddha, which would probably be found by writing to the publisher BDK Sudatta Hawaii, in Honolulu. This isn’t anything like Thich Nhat Hanh or The Dalai Lama’s books, for it has more of a scriptural feel to it. Highly Recommended for someone who has an interest in the less commercial texts on Buddhism.
By all means read John Updike’s Terrorist. I’m not sure if it will grip you like it did me, but I found that this is one of the recent books I just couldn’t put down. Don’t you hate that when a good book completely absorbs your life!
Just before the movie came out, I wanted to read Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Namesake. What a beautiful writer. I loved every page of it. As with all books made into films, this one is much more rewarding than the beautiful filmic “Namesake.” Her The Interpreter of Maladies was quite wonderful as well, but I found that I had earmarked my last page about half way through. I do enjoy short stories, and if you are looking for perhaps the best recommendation of a good story writer, please, go out and find Jhumpa Lahiri.
Did anyone read Al Gore’s The Assault on Reason? I hope so. The material he writes about is quite absorbing, and I assume that anyone, anyone interested in the health of our planet will find a few chapters worth staying up late for.
This summer I couldn’t get enough information on triathlons, but I did find the magazine
Triathlete to be a delightful fantasy of what I could become, if I trained every day, found a trainer, and of course, landed a corporate sponsor. I can pretend I am right behind everyone one of those speedy swimmers, cyclists or runners. HaHa. But the book that helped the most, perhaps in its small tips, was Michael Finch’s Triathlon Training. I’ll start rereading it again in the winter when I am about to start training for my second entry into the New York City Olympic Triathlon next July.
Just the other day, while browsing through one of Milwaukee’s bookstores, I opened the pages of The New York Review of Books. I had always assumed it was the stuffiest of stuffy book magazines, but I found several wonderful articles which I quickly read over
several cups of coffee. The issue had a fascinating article on Gunter Grass’s new memoir, which if you haven’t heard about it, is quite controversial, and I also appreciated the insights about the Islamic scholar, Tariq Ramadan. I’ll look for more issues.
In a different bookstore I found a small blue book which just seemed quite enticing. Has anyone every heard of the Polish poet, Tadeuz Rozewicz? His new poems were quite refreshing and yes, eclectic, and yes, about Polish life and culture, and yes, require a reader to be patient with references the American reader might need background on, but it is a delight to read European poets. This collection was translated from the Polish by Bill Johnson.
I did enjoy, and have enjoyed, and will continue to enjoy the Selected Poems of Fernando Pessoa & Co., translated by Richard Zenith. I found this 1998 text in a used bookstore, but really, everybody reading this, go out and find Fernando Pessoa. I would recommend reading and rereading every poem!
Lost City Radio by Daniel Alarcon came highly recommended, and I gave it a good read but about halfway through, I decided I wanted to let it go, and find something that might hold my attention a little stronger. I am sure I can come back to it. Perhaps I put my expectations of the South American novel ahead of the novel, if that makes any sense.
Over Christmas Break, I read, breathlessly, just before seeing the movie (a must!!) PD James’ The Children of Men. Oh, what a story. I admit having never read a PD James novel, but this story is so extraordinarily compelling, even though that sounds a bit too praiseworthy for any novel. A must read.
Speaking of must read, please put your hands on anything by the Turkish writer, Orhan Pamuk. I didn’t get all the way through his Istanbul, but I’ll admit the competition for my time were hundreds of undergraduate English essays which had to take priority.
So I read the compositions, and as a change, or reward, I read his lovely memoirs of growing up in Istanbul. But his Snow is probably one of the most engaging, thoughtful, beautifully designed novels I’ve read, well, in a long time. He’s the recent Nobel Prize winner in literature, and while that doesn’t always raise an eyebrow, I would recommend you find something by this amazing writer.
Do you like history? I just found the most intriguing publication, the BBC History Magazine. It is just a treat, a delight, not necessarily a hoot, for it is quite academic, but it is for the common arm chair historian, and if you want to read about anything British, well, try to find this colorful and charming magazine.
And lastly, but not in order, I’d recommend that you find Murder in Amsterdam: The Death of Theo van Gogh and the Limits of Toleranceby Ian Buruma. This book, along with While Europe Slept will give you a good detailed picture of what’s happening politically and socially in Scandinavian Islamic countries.
Please don’t think I’ve read these day by day, month by month, for I haven’t. But when I saw the cnn.com article on what we Americans were reading, I couldn’t help but look back in awe and amazement for just a few of the wonderful titles out there that might capture your attention as they did mine.
cnn.com just reported on America’s reading habits, an update from the 2002 National Endowment for the Arts report which offered a fairly bleak, perhaps just discouraging sign that more and more, fewer and fewer of us are reading, but then the question is,
What are we reading? Here’s the article in case you’d like to read it.
http://www.cnn.com/2007/LIVING/wayoflife/08/21/reading.ap/index.html
But then I began wondering if I had made the quota for the year, as an older near retirement age, aging literature professor. So if you don’t mind, I’ll pass along a few titles that have been quite rewarding, some more so than others, some which disappointed, and some I couldn’t finish as I didn’t have to write a paper or review.
Hope you enjoy the list, and they are all recommendations. Lastly, I didn’t read these last week, but over the last year.
I’ll start with the last book read, a recommendation, and one I actually started to read a second time as I wanted to more clearly remember everything the author wrote.
Bruce Bawer’s While Europe Slept was quite an eye-opener, and made me realize how naïve I was about the effects of Muslim immigration, population surges and Scandinavia’s complacency with integration. I believe the paperback is coming out on Sept. 11.
While all sorts of books on Buddhism are available to the public, I started rereading one book that I found in our Honolulu hotel several years ago, The Teaching of Buddha, which would probably be found by writing to the publisher BDK Sudatta Hawaii, in Honolulu. This isn’t anything like Thich Nhat Hanh or The Dalai Lama’s books, for it has more of a scriptural feel to it. Highly Recommended for someone who has an interest in the less commercial texts on Buddhism.
By all means read John Updike’s Terrorist. I’m not sure if it will grip you like it did me, but I found that this is one of the recent books I just couldn’t put down. Don’t you hate that when a good book completely absorbs your life!
Just before the movie came out, I wanted to read Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Namesake. What a beautiful writer. I loved every page of it. As with all books made into films, this one is much more rewarding than the beautiful filmic “Namesake.” Her The Interpreter of Maladies was quite wonderful as well, but I found that I had earmarked my last page about half way through. I do enjoy short stories, and if you are looking for perhaps the best recommendation of a good story writer, please, go out and find Jhumpa Lahiri.
Did anyone read Al Gore’s The Assault on Reason? I hope so. The material he writes about is quite absorbing, and I assume that anyone, anyone interested in the health of our planet will find a few chapters worth staying up late for.
This summer I couldn’t get enough information on triathlons, but I did find the magazine
Triathlete to be a delightful fantasy of what I could become, if I trained every day, found a trainer, and of course, landed a corporate sponsor. I can pretend I am right behind everyone one of those speedy swimmers, cyclists or runners. HaHa. But the book that helped the most, perhaps in its small tips, was Michael Finch’s Triathlon Training. I’ll start rereading it again in the winter when I am about to start training for my second entry into the New York City Olympic Triathlon next July.
Just the other day, while browsing through one of Milwaukee’s bookstores, I opened the pages of The New York Review of Books. I had always assumed it was the stuffiest of stuffy book magazines, but I found several wonderful articles which I quickly read over
several cups of coffee. The issue had a fascinating article on Gunter Grass’s new memoir, which if you haven’t heard about it, is quite controversial, and I also appreciated the insights about the Islamic scholar, Tariq Ramadan. I’ll look for more issues.
In a different bookstore I found a small blue book which just seemed quite enticing. Has anyone every heard of the Polish poet, Tadeuz Rozewicz? His new poems were quite refreshing and yes, eclectic, and yes, about Polish life and culture, and yes, require a reader to be patient with references the American reader might need background on, but it is a delight to read European poets. This collection was translated from the Polish by Bill Johnson.
I did enjoy, and have enjoyed, and will continue to enjoy the Selected Poems of Fernando Pessoa & Co., translated by Richard Zenith. I found this 1998 text in a used bookstore, but really, everybody reading this, go out and find Fernando Pessoa. I would recommend reading and rereading every poem!
Lost City Radio by Daniel Alarcon came highly recommended, and I gave it a good read but about halfway through, I decided I wanted to let it go, and find something that might hold my attention a little stronger. I am sure I can come back to it. Perhaps I put my expectations of the South American novel ahead of the novel, if that makes any sense.
Over Christmas Break, I read, breathlessly, just before seeing the movie (a must!!) PD James’ The Children of Men. Oh, what a story. I admit having never read a PD James novel, but this story is so extraordinarily compelling, even though that sounds a bit too praiseworthy for any novel. A must read.
Speaking of must read, please put your hands on anything by the Turkish writer, Orhan Pamuk. I didn’t get all the way through his Istanbul, but I’ll admit the competition for my time were hundreds of undergraduate English essays which had to take priority.
So I read the compositions, and as a change, or reward, I read his lovely memoirs of growing up in Istanbul. But his Snow is probably one of the most engaging, thoughtful, beautifully designed novels I’ve read, well, in a long time. He’s the recent Nobel Prize winner in literature, and while that doesn’t always raise an eyebrow, I would recommend you find something by this amazing writer.
Do you like history? I just found the most intriguing publication, the BBC History Magazine. It is just a treat, a delight, not necessarily a hoot, for it is quite academic, but it is for the common arm chair historian, and if you want to read about anything British, well, try to find this colorful and charming magazine.
And lastly, but not in order, I’d recommend that you find Murder in Amsterdam: The Death of Theo van Gogh and the Limits of Toleranceby Ian Buruma. This book, along with While Europe Slept will give you a good detailed picture of what’s happening politically and socially in Scandinavian Islamic countries.
Please don’t think I’ve read these day by day, month by month, for I haven’t. But when I saw the cnn.com article on what we Americans were reading, I couldn’t help but look back in awe and amazement for just a few of the wonderful titles out there that might capture your attention as they did mine.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
3:16:45
3:16:45
Okay, it was the hardest, longest and most physically challenging “effort” I’ve ever put myself through, with the exception of Army basic training in the summer of 1968, but now that it’s over, and my back isn’t killing me as much, I have to say I would do it again, and again and again, until only three guys are left standing in my age group at the start of the swim down the mighty Hudson. I predict that might be the 75+ year age group, but I’d like to stick it out, and try for that in about 14 more Nautica Olympic Triathlons. In July 2006, after finishing terribly in a sprint triathlon, I never would have imagined that a year later I would have completed such a longer race, even sprinting to the end in Central Park. But the challenge from my niece was just enough to say, why not, I’m only 60, a Clydesdale, in triathlon weight terms, and riding on a speedy 1970 Miriushi 12 speed, no wet suit, no running belt. What a year of training can do!
Here are the grueling details. First of all, I completely, totally, idiotically did not comprehend how long it would take to walk from the transition area (where we changed from one event to another) to not only the end of the swim, but to the beginning, nearly a mile upstream. As a result, I found myself running in bare feet through a crowd of sauntering Sunday athletes who were all going to swim long after my beginning time of 6:00 a.m. As a result, not only did I forget to get my timing chip, as that was the last thing I thought I needed, but I made it into the water, and into my wetsuit in RECORD TIME, hanging on to the start rope for dear life, with about 18 seconds before the starter gun. I dipped into the water just to prepare for the longest swim of my life, only to bob up and see that everyone had started.
If you’re wondering did the current help me swim in record time, I would admit yes, and yes, I did swim it faster than in a current less lake in Wisconsin, but I wouldn’t exactly call it swimming, more like a desperate attempt to sidestroke my way down past the hundreds of bobbing heads that were ahead of me, and soon to be behind me. At one point, I heard my niece yell tons of encouragement, but after the first 25 yards, I was pretty much a drifter. The lesson of the swim is that I do need lessons for open water swimming, I do need to learn bilateral breathing technique, and I do need to stop thinking that pool swimming is anything, anything, anything related to open water swimming. But the good news is that I didn’t drift out into the Atlantic, I didn’t swim from buoy to buoy, and I wasn’t pulled out of the water by the NYPD. So was it my fastest swim ever. Absolutely!
I must say it was a miraculous feeling to reach the end of the swim, and get a hand out of the water from one of the race volunteers. Then a long wet walk/jog to the transition area, slip out of the wetsuit as fast as possible, and into bike shoes and a helmet in record time. The greatest challenge of the 40K bike ride was not the long. very long hill climbs up the West End Highway in Manhattan and the Bronx, no, the tough part came right in the transition area with a sharp right turn and an immediate steep climb. I had practiced this monster twice the day before, so I was ready to take the hill, and by some miracle, I made it up with falling, or causing a major Tour de France crash up. The ride was good, long, even longer, with more hills than I had trained for, and oddly, I passed a few riders, and I even offered encouragement of “How ya doin mate?” which made me wonder where did my Irish brogue come from in the middle of terribly hard bike climbs, but regardless of my brain turning Irish on the West End Highway, I returned to the transition area in one piece, with no flats, no crashes, no blood. Back to transition area, and into running (jogging) shoes and on to Central Park. (At this point, I assumed all my times were being accurately reported when I crossed several rubber timing mats, even though my chip was still hanging on the chip board way back at the start of the swim.)
My training for Central Park took place primarily up and down Lake Shore Drive and
Lake Park on the eastside of Milwaukee, so I had a few hills to train on, and in the last few weeks, I kept hitting these hills more regularly, and perhaps some of it paid off, for while I didn’t walk the 10K portion, I didn’t exactly jog the portion either, but to be honest, without a chip, it’s hard to say what I was doing with my tired legs, but toward the end, say the last mile, I could feel the excitement of possibly finishing and started to pick up whatever pace I had, and finished with a stride longer than I had in training, gasping for air, looking a little startled that I was actually going to finish. When I saw the clock above the finish line, I began to grasp the significance of the whole event, and was inspired to even sprint hard to the very end, in a sea of tears, and then to my surprise, a cold wet towel, a beautiful medal, and then someone asked “where’s your chip?”
All in all, the most exciting, challenging race I’ve ever trained for, and yes, I’ll try it again. Next year, I’ll try to remember to pick up the chip before hitting the water.
For pictures, go to
www.nyctri.com
then search for the pictures link,
then type in Clinton under name,
or race number 191,
and see a few seconds of the race.
Okay, it was the hardest, longest and most physically challenging “effort” I’ve ever put myself through, with the exception of Army basic training in the summer of 1968, but now that it’s over, and my back isn’t killing me as much, I have to say I would do it again, and again and again, until only three guys are left standing in my age group at the start of the swim down the mighty Hudson. I predict that might be the 75+ year age group, but I’d like to stick it out, and try for that in about 14 more Nautica Olympic Triathlons. In July 2006, after finishing terribly in a sprint triathlon, I never would have imagined that a year later I would have completed such a longer race, even sprinting to the end in Central Park. But the challenge from my niece was just enough to say, why not, I’m only 60, a Clydesdale, in triathlon weight terms, and riding on a speedy 1970 Miriushi 12 speed, no wet suit, no running belt. What a year of training can do!
Here are the grueling details. First of all, I completely, totally, idiotically did not comprehend how long it would take to walk from the transition area (where we changed from one event to another) to not only the end of the swim, but to the beginning, nearly a mile upstream. As a result, I found myself running in bare feet through a crowd of sauntering Sunday athletes who were all going to swim long after my beginning time of 6:00 a.m. As a result, not only did I forget to get my timing chip, as that was the last thing I thought I needed, but I made it into the water, and into my wetsuit in RECORD TIME, hanging on to the start rope for dear life, with about 18 seconds before the starter gun. I dipped into the water just to prepare for the longest swim of my life, only to bob up and see that everyone had started.
If you’re wondering did the current help me swim in record time, I would admit yes, and yes, I did swim it faster than in a current less lake in Wisconsin, but I wouldn’t exactly call it swimming, more like a desperate attempt to sidestroke my way down past the hundreds of bobbing heads that were ahead of me, and soon to be behind me. At one point, I heard my niece yell tons of encouragement, but after the first 25 yards, I was pretty much a drifter. The lesson of the swim is that I do need lessons for open water swimming, I do need to learn bilateral breathing technique, and I do need to stop thinking that pool swimming is anything, anything, anything related to open water swimming. But the good news is that I didn’t drift out into the Atlantic, I didn’t swim from buoy to buoy, and I wasn’t pulled out of the water by the NYPD. So was it my fastest swim ever. Absolutely!
I must say it was a miraculous feeling to reach the end of the swim, and get a hand out of the water from one of the race volunteers. Then a long wet walk/jog to the transition area, slip out of the wetsuit as fast as possible, and into bike shoes and a helmet in record time. The greatest challenge of the 40K bike ride was not the long. very long hill climbs up the West End Highway in Manhattan and the Bronx, no, the tough part came right in the transition area with a sharp right turn and an immediate steep climb. I had practiced this monster twice the day before, so I was ready to take the hill, and by some miracle, I made it up with falling, or causing a major Tour de France crash up. The ride was good, long, even longer, with more hills than I had trained for, and oddly, I passed a few riders, and I even offered encouragement of “How ya doin mate?” which made me wonder where did my Irish brogue come from in the middle of terribly hard bike climbs, but regardless of my brain turning Irish on the West End Highway, I returned to the transition area in one piece, with no flats, no crashes, no blood. Back to transition area, and into running (jogging) shoes and on to Central Park. (At this point, I assumed all my times were being accurately reported when I crossed several rubber timing mats, even though my chip was still hanging on the chip board way back at the start of the swim.)
My training for Central Park took place primarily up and down Lake Shore Drive and
Lake Park on the eastside of Milwaukee, so I had a few hills to train on, and in the last few weeks, I kept hitting these hills more regularly, and perhaps some of it paid off, for while I didn’t walk the 10K portion, I didn’t exactly jog the portion either, but to be honest, without a chip, it’s hard to say what I was doing with my tired legs, but toward the end, say the last mile, I could feel the excitement of possibly finishing and started to pick up whatever pace I had, and finished with a stride longer than I had in training, gasping for air, looking a little startled that I was actually going to finish. When I saw the clock above the finish line, I began to grasp the significance of the whole event, and was inspired to even sprint hard to the very end, in a sea of tears, and then to my surprise, a cold wet towel, a beautiful medal, and then someone asked “where’s your chip?”
All in all, the most exciting, challenging race I’ve ever trained for, and yes, I’ll try it again. Next year, I’ll try to remember to pick up the chip before hitting the water.
For pictures, go to
www.nyctri.com
then search for the pictures link,
then type in Clinton under name,
or race number 191,
and see a few seconds of the race.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Olympic Dreams
Olympic Dreams
Ha Ha! Not the Olympics, not the Olympics every 4 years, no. But yes, Olympic “distance.” That’s what I’ve been working on as I try to put a few finishing touches on training for an Olympic distance triathlon in mid July in New York City. Can you imagine swimming in the Hudson off Manhattan for 0.9 tenths of a mile? Or cycling 24 miles up Manhattan through the Bronx or jogging through Central Park for a 10K? Okay, now let’s put all that together, in sequence, back to back, right after the other. Oi Vay!
Nothing I’ve ever done tells me I could actually do this, until last summer when I nearly called it quits in a sprint distance triathlon and my first outdoor lake swim. I kept holding on the buoys, dogpaddling, drinking the Lake, but somehow, miraculously, I made it to the end, and felt the good earth beneath my feet again.
That day last summer was incredibly hot, in the 90’s, with a high heat index, and a monster hill to just start the 5K. After it was all over, and sitting on a bench recovering my lungs, and legs, I realized how crazy I had been in thinking that indoor and outdoor triathlons must be similar, somehow. But they are at best only distant cousins! That afternoon I called my niece in NYC to see how she did with her Olympic distance race. Somewhere in that conversation, knowing I had come in dead last in my age group, I asked Deborah, how much further an Olympic was compared to a Sprint distance. And within a few weeks, I started getting ready for the biggest physical feat of my life. Now, I am only a few days out from the official New York City Nautica Triathlon.
Okay so I upgraded into a wet suit, a newer bike, and a cool outfit, but I’ve also lost about 20 pounds, gained a lot of confidence by swimming way way way further away from a beach than I ever have, and have started to even “take” a few hills on my new red racer. I’ve also fallen from the bike (clip shoes are a real trick to get out of before you fall over on concrete!), witnessed some bad bad cycling accidents, found thighs and calves I never thought I had, and have actually cranked it up into the highest road gear…not exactly anthing Lance might even notice, but a lot faster than my old 1970’s Mariushi 12 speed. I’ve also learned there’s no “pushoff” at the end of the lane in a lake, but learning also how to spot a buoy so far away, that it’s only a blip on my visual screen…but slowly, ever so slowly, I make the turn, and look for another one.
So, it’s off to New York City in a few weeks. My mantra? Sure, you guessed it,
“I am an Olympian!” That should get me through the long jog at the end of this crazy race. In case you’d like to see what the race is, and the distances, etc., here’s the website
http://www.nyctri.com
Ha Ha! Not the Olympics, not the Olympics every 4 years, no. But yes, Olympic “distance.” That’s what I’ve been working on as I try to put a few finishing touches on training for an Olympic distance triathlon in mid July in New York City. Can you imagine swimming in the Hudson off Manhattan for 0.9 tenths of a mile? Or cycling 24 miles up Manhattan through the Bronx or jogging through Central Park for a 10K? Okay, now let’s put all that together, in sequence, back to back, right after the other. Oi Vay!
Nothing I’ve ever done tells me I could actually do this, until last summer when I nearly called it quits in a sprint distance triathlon and my first outdoor lake swim. I kept holding on the buoys, dogpaddling, drinking the Lake, but somehow, miraculously, I made it to the end, and felt the good earth beneath my feet again.
That day last summer was incredibly hot, in the 90’s, with a high heat index, and a monster hill to just start the 5K. After it was all over, and sitting on a bench recovering my lungs, and legs, I realized how crazy I had been in thinking that indoor and outdoor triathlons must be similar, somehow. But they are at best only distant cousins! That afternoon I called my niece in NYC to see how she did with her Olympic distance race. Somewhere in that conversation, knowing I had come in dead last in my age group, I asked Deborah, how much further an Olympic was compared to a Sprint distance. And within a few weeks, I started getting ready for the biggest physical feat of my life. Now, I am only a few days out from the official New York City Nautica Triathlon.
Okay so I upgraded into a wet suit, a newer bike, and a cool outfit, but I’ve also lost about 20 pounds, gained a lot of confidence by swimming way way way further away from a beach than I ever have, and have started to even “take” a few hills on my new red racer. I’ve also fallen from the bike (clip shoes are a real trick to get out of before you fall over on concrete!), witnessed some bad bad cycling accidents, found thighs and calves I never thought I had, and have actually cranked it up into the highest road gear…not exactly anthing Lance might even notice, but a lot faster than my old 1970’s Mariushi 12 speed. I’ve also learned there’s no “pushoff” at the end of the lane in a lake, but learning also how to spot a buoy so far away, that it’s only a blip on my visual screen…but slowly, ever so slowly, I make the turn, and look for another one.
So, it’s off to New York City in a few weeks. My mantra? Sure, you guessed it,
“I am an Olympian!” That should get me through the long jog at the end of this crazy race. In case you’d like to see what the race is, and the distances, etc., here’s the website
http://www.nyctri.com
Friday, June 22, 2007
"Vacationing at Auschwitz" II
“Vacationing at Auschwitz” II
Alex Perry writes a very informative and thoughtful essay, “Vacationing at Auschwitz” in a recent issue of Time Magazine on the subject of visiting Auschwitz. See his article on line in the current issue at
http://www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,1630425,00.html?xid=site-cnn-partner
Auschwitz is one of those places off the usual tourist map as it is a place of magnified horror and shock, yet it is also the most memorable place on earth that I have been to, and only for a few hours. Often, especially when teaching about the Holocaust, I revisit the walk I made with students and friends from Milwaukee to this notorious “secret prison” of the Third Reich.
Walking under the “Arbeit Macht Frie” is a chilling experience, yet it is also odd to see tourists from around the globe wondering through the brick army barracks that comprised what was once Auschwitz I, a Polish army camp that became a center of torture and brutality shortly after Poland was overrun by its neighbor/enemy. A number of the buildings offer a glimpse into the death camp, with displays of collected articles from the prisoners who arrived by the hundreds of thousands, day and night, month by month, year by year between 1941 and 1944-45, though I am not sure when the last train arrived in the last year of the War. By the time you finish a guided tour any visitor has a good clear sense of what happened here, and one can even walk by and even enter the first or “experimental” gas chamber and crematorium, though it has been reconstructed for tourists to have a “walk through.”
About a 3 minute or so bus ride away is the larger camp, Auschwitz II, which was expanded and magnified into one of the largest and efficient death camps of World War II. Without any trouble, you can take a picture of the classic structure of the main gate of Auschwitz II. Inside, it is quite remarkable, as today it looks like an open field with tens of tiny chimneys which to a new tourist, might be mistaken for the notorious five chimneys that sent 1.5 million men, women and children floating into the sky, or drifting down the river, or simply as field fertilizer. But they are only heating units of the countless number of barracks used in the 40’s for “housing.” I still can recall walking into a women’s barracks thinking that I might experience something, but it was quite clean, all the feces and urine had been washed away, and no one was screaming or moaning. No one was dragged away after a selection. I was safe.
At the very end of Auschwitz II, which might be a 30-40 minute walk, depending on your willingness to wonder through such a tranquil and peaceful field, you will come to the destroyed five chimneys and gas chambers though you can’t walk through any of it, unless you are looking for something like a bone or a scraping of Zyklon B. What is most memorable is the memorial plaque which explains, briefly, that 1.5 million Europeans were murdered here as a “final cleansing” of Nordic stock. By the time you kneel or rest at this memorial site, you probably are either tired, thirsty, or deeply saddened. I know I was. The sadness has lifted, but I am always remembering this place as one of the most unimaginable places on earth.
Alex Perry writes a very informative and thoughtful essay, “Vacationing at Auschwitz” in a recent issue of Time Magazine on the subject of visiting Auschwitz. See his article on line in the current issue at
http://www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,1630425,00.html?xid=site-cnn-partner
Auschwitz is one of those places off the usual tourist map as it is a place of magnified horror and shock, yet it is also the most memorable place on earth that I have been to, and only for a few hours. Often, especially when teaching about the Holocaust, I revisit the walk I made with students and friends from Milwaukee to this notorious “secret prison” of the Third Reich.
Walking under the “Arbeit Macht Frie” is a chilling experience, yet it is also odd to see tourists from around the globe wondering through the brick army barracks that comprised what was once Auschwitz I, a Polish army camp that became a center of torture and brutality shortly after Poland was overrun by its neighbor/enemy. A number of the buildings offer a glimpse into the death camp, with displays of collected articles from the prisoners who arrived by the hundreds of thousands, day and night, month by month, year by year between 1941 and 1944-45, though I am not sure when the last train arrived in the last year of the War. By the time you finish a guided tour any visitor has a good clear sense of what happened here, and one can even walk by and even enter the first or “experimental” gas chamber and crematorium, though it has been reconstructed for tourists to have a “walk through.”
About a 3 minute or so bus ride away is the larger camp, Auschwitz II, which was expanded and magnified into one of the largest and efficient death camps of World War II. Without any trouble, you can take a picture of the classic structure of the main gate of Auschwitz II. Inside, it is quite remarkable, as today it looks like an open field with tens of tiny chimneys which to a new tourist, might be mistaken for the notorious five chimneys that sent 1.5 million men, women and children floating into the sky, or drifting down the river, or simply as field fertilizer. But they are only heating units of the countless number of barracks used in the 40’s for “housing.” I still can recall walking into a women’s barracks thinking that I might experience something, but it was quite clean, all the feces and urine had been washed away, and no one was screaming or moaning. No one was dragged away after a selection. I was safe.
At the very end of Auschwitz II, which might be a 30-40 minute walk, depending on your willingness to wonder through such a tranquil and peaceful field, you will come to the destroyed five chimneys and gas chambers though you can’t walk through any of it, unless you are looking for something like a bone or a scraping of Zyklon B. What is most memorable is the memorial plaque which explains, briefly, that 1.5 million Europeans were murdered here as a “final cleansing” of Nordic stock. By the time you kneel or rest at this memorial site, you probably are either tired, thirsty, or deeply saddened. I know I was. The sadness has lifted, but I am always remembering this place as one of the most unimaginable places on earth.
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