Some random notes:

First, in trying to assist Nyffy with his desire to one day become the Brewmaster of Heaven, a contingent of my friends spent some time this last weekend brewing a batch of Futurebeer:

The current state of Futurebeer

Futurebeer is beer, after a while. It is not yet, however. It's that same mysterious "already but not yet" we find with the kingdom of God. Anyway, it was fun to go through a process involving (mostly) natural ingredients that will culminate in pure enjoyment after a period of care and waiting. Being a creative person who works mostly with digital or musical media, I was very glad to work with actual substances to create a product. It's sort of like the joy I have found in cooking nice meals, only greater due to the extended period of time involved in the process.

Second, I received in the mail from Amazon the first three books in NT Wright's massive "Question of God" undertaking, beginning with The New Testament and the People of God. After hearing much about these works and reading some other stuff of Wright's, I'm very excited to go on an extended journey of engagement with history, theology, and literary criticism on issues surrounding the origins of Christianity. Thankfully, I've finished Alister McGrath's likewise-authoritative critical-realism-inspired trilogy on scientific theology, so I now have room for another expedition. You will no doubt be hearing various thoughts on the books here, which is why I thought I'd give forewarning. As a bit of a taste, here's a paragraph from the introduction:

The New Testament has not been around as long as the land of Israel, but in other ways there are remarkable parallels. It is a small book, smaller than anybody else's holy book, small enough to be read through in a day or two. But it has had an importance belied by its slim appearance. It has again and again been a battleground for warring armies. Sometimes they have come to plunder its streasures for their own use, or to annex bits of its territory as part of a larger empire in need of a few extra strategic mountains, especially holy ones. Somestimes they have come to fight their private battles on neutral territory, finding in the debates about a book or a passage a convenient place to stage a war which is really between two worldviews or philosophies, themselves comparatively unrelated to the New Testament and its concerns. There are many places whose fragile beauty has been trampled by heavy-footed exegetes in search of a Greek root, a quick sermon, or a political slogan. And yet it has remained a powerful and evocative book, full of delicacy and majesty, tears and laughter.

What ought one to do with the New Testament? We may take it for granted that it will be no good trying to prevent its still being used as a battleground. No border fences would be strong enough to keep out the philosophers, the philologists, the politicians and the casual tourists; nor should we erect them if they were. There are many who have come to pilfer and have stayed to be pilgrims. To place all or part of this book within a sacred enclosure would be to invite a dominical rebuke: my house is to be a house of prayer for all the nations. Past attempts to keep it for one group only--the take-over bids by the scholars and the pietists, the fundamentalists and the armchair social workers--have ended with unseemly battles, the equivalent of the sad struggle for the control of Holy Places in the land of israel. This book is a book of wisdom for all peoples, but we have made it a den of scholarship, or of a narrow, hard and exclusive piety.

Inspiring, no?

Third, I am going to Switzerland next week. I would like to get a good digital SLR camera before then. Anyone have one they want to sell? Or any recommendations?

Fourth, I wanted to upload something to YouTube, but only have 3 or 4 home videos on my computer. Only one happened to be appropriately flattering of myself, and since the purpose of the Internet is for people to upload flattering things, I chose to throw it in to the churning mill. It's from last year in Costa Rica when Justin turned on the camera and told me to go catch a frisbee in the ocean. You can see the video here. After uploading I found many videos of real ultimate frisbee layouts, which were much more impressive. So watch those too.

Until next time, this has been your beer, academic theology, travel, and sports update. Cheers.

(or, reactions after seeing M Night Shyamalan's highly-recommended new film Lady in the Water twice in one weekend):

The problem with good stories is that we cannot always live in them (barring the "good story" which is hopefully and supposedly the whole of our life--but right now I'm talking about good fiction stories; the kind that make you wish they were real). The problem with the best stories is their singularity of message: "Good stories are real! Believe in them!" And of course, they're not real either, strictly speaking. There are no narphs and scrunts lurking round small ponds in my hometown, waiting to magically awaken greatness in me via some ancient link.

Even so, the problem has rather more to do with their truth than falsity. When I look soberly at reality I don't find the details of Lady in the Water or The Silmarillion or Le Morte d'Artur, but on the other hand I do suppose that I believe reality really is something like those stories, at the end of the day. Reality involves things other than what we can see; reality involves hidden purposes and identities meant to be discovered; reality involves the endowing of normal human beings with abilities that, to someone from a different world, might seem magical.

No, the problem is not with the absence of "magic"--the problem is with my inability to see everything around me for what it really is (magical). And so I leave a good story feeling a sense of indescribable, desperate longing for something more exciting, more adventurous, more exotic, more epic, more fantastic, while steadfastly refusing to consider that if I were in one of those other worlds, I would be wishing the exact same thing, and a great bard of that place who told a story of Earth, her creation, the way that life springs from the very ground, and so on, would inspire me to dream great things. So the question becomes: how can we re-enchant this world? How can we de-familiarize ourselves from the radically "magical" events taking place around us always? It is not easy, and that is why we tell stories--to keep that sense alive somehow. But the result is that unfortunately I begin to desire the reality of the stories more than the reality of the real, based on unfair judgements of the real!

Alas, for now, I will keep running off to hear stories of marvelous and far-off worlds just to remind myself that such things are worth holding on to; but I hope that, instead of becoming depressed after hearing a good story and mourning the "death of the miraculous" in modern culture, I would learn to perceive the miraculous more easily all around. Clearly there is a tension here with my deeply-embedded scientific impulse to categorize and define; to resolve it I hope to be able to know both what a thing is and what a thing means. (In other words, the problem is not with any kind of scientific impulse per se, but rather the presumption of saying that knowledge of a thing's true identity and significance can be adequately captured by scientific experimentation).

Nonetheless, we should re-establish frequent storytelling as a way to convey the deep truths of reality, even and especially if the best way to convey those truths is to speak of things like magical lands and mythical beings. Remember one of the most powerful lines from V for Vendetta: "Artists use lies to tell the truth, while politicians cover it up".

On the storyteller's end, let us become adept at using such "lies" to tell the truth of a wonderful reality, but on the listener's end, let us be adept at loving not the "lie" in virtue of its brilliant and captivating colors, but rather the even more brilliant and more captivating truth it (hopefully) conveys. For those like myself who love to live in the imagination, that second part will prove to be the harder of the two... But I personally hope the other side of that coin leads to an increased ability to tell the truth in story (the first part).

(If you haven't yet, read my long, philosophical review of The Da Vinci Code)

I saw the movie a few days ago, and so I thought I'd make a short list of some important ways that it was different than the book:

• The movie's plot was less complicated.
• Langdon was more of a spineless religioid. (In the book, he knew about, and believed, the Priory's story. In the movie, he calls it a "myth", tacks "according to the Priory myth" on the end of all his statements, and argues unconvincingly about it with Teabing--using much the same arguments as moviegoers would expect frustrated Christians to use). Ultimately he comes across as having gone on a journey of personal discovery, which is not at all the character of the book.
• Bezu Fache was more of a religious fanatic, and a forensic dupe (as opposed to the brilliant, hard-as-nails police captain from the novel).
• Teabing was a much more lively character than I would have assumed from the book.
• The conclusion, especially regarding Sophie's family, was far less satisfying.

Now, mostly what I want to talk about is two broader-picture statements which occurred in the movie explicitly but not in the book. As we will see, it's to Dan Brown's credit that he didn't write such laughable dialogue into the novel. (Or if he did, it was done in such a way that I missed it).

I just finished reading The Da Vinci Code (hereafter TDVC--or maybe I'll write it out for SEO purposes). It was more or less, given all the fuss, what I'd expected. I thought I'd share some thoughts and reflections. Be warned--I will probably reveal things about the plot that you may not want to know if you are keeping a vow of Da Vinci virginity or something.

So that I will not be accused of only making lists of heavy and depressing stuff like doubts, here is installment #1 of "Things I Like"! I have put "10-2005" in the title, which implies but does not do anything like promise that this will be a monthly series. The list is not supposed to be particularly deep, so please do not feel injured that I do not mention our relationship, or Jesus, or anything like that. But do remember that I spend most of my days coding, and so a lot of this will be my inner nerd coming out. Here is the list, in no particular order:

On a spur of the moment, I went to see the last showing of Serenity tonight at a local theater. I'd seen previews for it during Batman Begins, and thought, "Oh no, another mediocre sci-fi flick with none-too-great special effects and bad acting." But since it opened a few days ago, I've been hearing nothing but positive things from people whom I trust to know better, so I thought I'd give it a chance.

My conclusion, after seeing it, was that it's probably the best sci-fi movie I have seen in the theaters, for as long as I can remember. The problem with sci-fi movies is that they're typically either "sci-fi", meaning, not sci-fi in spirit, but set in space, so everyone thinks it's sci-fi, or that they're sci-fi in spirit, but horribly written and acted or produced.