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Lambdaphagy

@lambdaphagy / lambdaphagy.tumblr.com

internet-assembled philosophy
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florescent--luminescence-deacti asked:

Are you still around here? I found your blog a long time ago and always enjoyed seeing you on my dash. If you're not on here much any more, is there anywhere else you blog nowadays?

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Hi, thanks for your kind words.  It’s true that I’m not on much anymore.  Part of that is circumstantial: I started this when I had a lot of free time on my hands, and now I (thankfully) have much less.  Not that it’s much of an excuse-- better writers have done more with even less.

Another part has to do with the suspicion that tumblr posts don’t scale linearly, and that given the choice between a few hundred one page essays and a book, I’d rather have written the book.

But no, I’m not blogging anywhere else at the moment.  I’ll let you know if I change my mind.

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Happy Easter, everyone.  Where applicable.

Tumblr informs me that I have just recently made my 1,916th post.  To notice this on Easter is not a coincidence because &c.    

Reviewing the early ones, it’s clear that that author was very different from the one now writing.  Which is for the best, because that self had to go.  Or be transformed utterly, as it were.

A lot has changed, even outwardly.  I finished grad school (that’s Dr. Lambdaphagy to you!) I took a bet on a startup that failed, in no small part for my own doing.  Loved twice and twice let love languish.

I’m living in Cambridge now.  It is extremely Puritan.  Not far from my office is the   first Unitarian church in America, fittingly located at “Zero Church Street.”  I think about this a lot. 

Also nearby is the original site of the ancient, spreading chestnut tree that inspired Longfellow’s “The Village Blacksmith”, a poem about the importance of tradition, quiet perseverance and organic continuity.  Apparently the local schoolchildren liked the poem so much that they chopped the tree down and made it into a chair for him.  I think about this a lot too.

I hope you all are well.

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The dread, the whips, the jeers, the cross, the nails: That much sufficed to counter Adam's curse. What horror in the tips of Pilate's flails When countless nameless peasants had it worse? For this is Christ as God made Man esteemed, And preached by saints, by joyful martyrs praised. Why not then be a thousand times redeemed, Once each for every cross the Romans raised?

One must imagine in those last three hours, Each anguish, lapse, betrayal, brother slain He felt not with our panicked mental powers, but perfectly, with sorrow worse than pain.  At last, a thought to crush the heart like wax:  Christ crucified with nothing but the facts.

#christ-hacking#we call this friday good#greatest-hits
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Shot:

As I besought thee to abide still at Ephesus, when I went into Macedonia, that thou mightest charge some that they teach no other doctrine,  Neither give heed to fables and endless genealogies, which minister questions, rather than godly edifying which is in faith...

Chaser:

The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.  Abraham begat Isaac; and Isaac begat Jacob; and Jacob begat Judas and his brethren;  And Judas begat Phares and Zara of Thamar; and Phares begat Esrom; and Esrom begat Aram;  And Aram begat Aminadab; and Aminadab begat Naasson; and Naasson begat Salmon;  And Salmon begat Booz of Rachab; and Booz begat Obed of Ruth; and Obed begat Jesse;  And Jesse begat David the king; and David the king begat Solomon of her that had been the wife of Urias;  And Solomon begat Roboam; and Roboam begat Abia; and Abia begat Asa;  And Asa begat Josaphat; and Josaphat begat Joram; and Joram begat Ozias;  And Ozias begat Joatham; and Joatham begat Achaz; and Achaz begat Ezekias;  And Ezekias begat Manasses; and Manasses begat Amon; and Amon begat Josias;  And Josias begat Jechonias and his brethren, about the time they were carried away to Babylon:  And after they were brought to Babylon, Jechonias begat Salathiel; and Salathiel begat Zorobabel;  And Zorobabel begat Abiud; and Abiud begat Eliakim; and Eliakim begat Azor;  And Azor begat Sadoc; and Sadoc begat Achim; and Achim begat Eliud;  And Eliud begat Eleazar; and Eleazar begat Matthan; and Matthan begat Jacob;  And Jacob begat Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus, who is called Christ.  So all the generations from Abraham to David are fourteen generations; and from David until the carrying away into Babylon are fourteen generations; and from the carrying away into Babylon unto Christ are fourteen generations.  Now the birth of Jesus Christ was on this wise: When as his mother Mary was espoused to Joseph, before they came together, she was found with child of the Holy Ghost.  Then Joseph her husband, being a just man, and not willing to make her a publick example, was minded to put her away privily.  But while he thought on these things, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared unto him in a dream, saying, Joseph, thou son of David, fear not to take unto thee Mary thy wife: for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Ghost.  And she shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call his name JESUS: for he shall save his people from their sins.  Now all this was done, that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet, saying,  Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel, which being interpreted is, God with us.  Then Joseph being raised from sleep did as the angel of the Lord had bidden him, and took unto him his wife:  And knew her not till she had brought forth her firstborn son: and he called his name JESUS.
#christ-hacking#no one in NT history seems to talk about the part where Paul subtweets Matthew
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athrelon

Dark & gritty sequel to Hairspray where the protagonist, after heroically championing the civil rights movement in Baltimore in the original, now has to live in Baltimore.

#baltimore
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lambdaphagy

“So what do you do?”

“I bounced around a bit after college, but now I’m the COO of a small non-profit focused on health, education and welfare for gifted youth.”

“That sounds really demanding!”

“Well, every job has its ups and downs, but on the whole I find it very rewarding.  And of course I love our target demographic.”

“Do you have a lot of accountability to the board?”

“No I’ve pretty much got free rein as long as I make budget.  And my partner focuses on fundraising, which frees me up to pursue my vision.  I call him “the passive income stream”.  It’s a little joke we have, you see.  Ha ha.“

“Sounds like a pretty sweet gig, then.  Are you ever worried about job security?”

“Oh, my partner and I have a special legal arrangement about that.  When we founded the partnership we both agreed that I’d have tenure for life.”

“Wait, what?”

immanentizingeschatons

I tried to write a quick response to this twice last night but got tripped up on the “tenure” terminology so what I will say is this:

The narrator didn’t mention the part where the corollary to the “tenure” thing is that they aren’t allowed to quit, and have limited recourse in response to abuse. And historically their partner was heavily institutionally favored in disputes.

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lambdaphagy

In point of fact, the modern consensus is that you are indeed allowed to quit.  In fact, you aren’t even allowed to privately sign away your right to quit, or even to try to promise fidelity through the mechanism of (mere) financial penalties should you quit.  You would think that America means anything, it is the right to promise to dock yourself five figures if you get caught running around.  But the courts can and have thrown that out.

There is currently no legally enforceable right to marry in the US, and the pushback against this modest claim has always struck me as odd because that was precisely what was to be done.  Quod est faciendum.

#DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT
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Anonymous asked:

sucks that a dumbass HBDer like you is working with gifted youth

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"So what do you do?"

"I bounced around a bit after college, but now I'm the COO of a small non-profit focused on health, education and welfare for gifted youth."

"That sounds really demanding!"

"Well, every job has its ups and downs, but on the whole I find it very rewarding.  And of course I love our target demographic."

"Do you have a lot of accountability to the board?"

"No I've pretty much got free rein as long as I make budget.  And my partner focuses on fundraising, which frees me up to pursue my vision.  I call him "the passive income stream".  It's a little joke we have, you see.  Ha ha."

"Sounds like a pretty sweet gig, then.  Are you ever worried about job security?"

"Oh, my partner and I have a special legal arrangement about that.  When we founded the partnership we both agreed that I'd have tenure for life."

"Wait, what?"

#greatest-hits
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Uh.. Pastor?  I've just noticed something.  Have you looked at our flags recently?

Our flags, my son?

Yeah, the flags on our churches, have you looked at them?

What? No, a bit..?  

They've got PRIDE on them.

Hm?

Have you noticed that our rainbow flags have actually got the word "PRIDE" on them.

So?

I mean, what does "PRIDE" make you think of?  Arrogance, hubris, self-idolatry, the father of all sins, the prelude to a fall...

You haven't been listening to tradcat propaganda, have you?  Of course they're going to say we're prideful.

But the tradcats didn't get to design our flags!

Oh, come on.

Pastor... are we the heretics?

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Seven Stanzas at Easter

Make no mistake: if he rose at all It was as His body; If the cell’s dissolution did not reverse, the molecule reknit, The amino acids rekindle, The Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers, Each soft spring recurrent; It was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled eyes of the Eleven apostles; It was as His flesh; ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes The same valved heart That—pierced—died, withered, paused, and then regathered Out of enduring Might New strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor, Analogy, sidestepping, transcendence, Making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the faded Credulity of earlier ages: Let us walk through the door.

The stone is rolled back, not papier-mache, Not a stone in a story, But the vast rock of materiality that in the slow grinding of Time will eclipse for each of us The wide light of day.

And if we have an angel at the tomb, Make it a real angel, Weighty with Max Planck’s quanta, vivid with hair, opaque in The dawn light, robed in real linen Spun on a definite loom.

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous, For our own convenience, our own sense of beauty, Lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are embarrassed By the miracle, And crushed by remonstrance.

John Updike

#christ-hacking#unsure if endorsed
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