Credenda Agenda
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Food
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By Luke Jankovic
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Tuesday, 10 November 2009 10:05
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I grew up in a city of train tracks, a city that aims to overflow. A city that takes pride in sending its name out across the country stamped on boxes and cartons and cans. Now far away from my childhood home I delight to find that name in small letters at the grocery store, a reminder of my neighbors and friends and the people who made West Chicago smell like Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
The "local food" movement has incriminated foods that come from far away because of a dirty list of nasties, like fuel prices and preservatives. But a real place is defined by its exports, good and bad. Families, communities, cities, and regions shouldn't be striving to be introverted islands of sustainability.
They should aim to overflow. By their fruit you shall know them. Busting out through huge steel infrastructure if need be, covering thousands of miles.
West Chicago (the suburb) was a great place to grow up, a place with a profound identity. Where companies like General Mills, and Campbells were not impersonal and ill-motivated corporations, but pay check providers, whose productivity was tangible. From food on the table to the smell in the air, the town is sustained by mass-production. The air outside of my high school was thick with it. It was the smell (and practically taste) of growing mushrooms.
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Last Updated on Thursday, 26 November 2009 09:22
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Apologetics
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By Mitch Stokes
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Monday, 23 November 2009 16:48
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If the universe were ever so slightly different in any number of ways, human life would be impossible. The earth’s distance from the sun, the universe’s gravitational force, and many other features are ‘just right’ and therefore give the universe the appearance of being finely tuned. Surely this requires an explanation. And what better explanation for this uncanny appearance of design than that it was designed.
Yet there’s a very different response to this delicate just-so structure of the universe, namely, that the appearance of fine tuning requires no explanation at all. “Look,” this response goes, “if the universe weren’t just so, then we wouldn’t be around to consider it being just so. There’s nothing more to say. The universe’s structure just is.”
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Last Updated on Thursday, 26 November 2009 09:23
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Culture
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By Peter J. Leithart
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Thursday, 14 January 2010 09:45
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Why do I bristle when my son sits in the back seat of the car, white wires hanging from his ears, flipping through what must be a million songs downloaded onto his iPod? No doubt, it’s the threat of the new. I rarely carry a cell phone, and now I hear tell of compact computers that will use holographic keyboards.
Stodgy as I certainly am, I don’t think that’s all there is to it. It’s white, but its purity is, I suspect, only apparent. There’s something deeper going on, some more fundamental worry about those earplugs, those wires, that uncannily, seductively thin wafer of entertainment.
For starters, I feel that the iPod is an assault on family culture. A culture is a pattern of life and habit passed from one generation to another; a culture is inherently authoritative, imposed from without. I want my kids to pick up the passions, the likes and dislikes, the habits and the ways of being that make the Leitharts something more than a random collection of individuals and something different from the Larsons or the Lawyers down the road.
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From the Vaults
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By Douglas Jones
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Monday, 07 December 2009 11:55
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A Little Something from the Vaults (Volume 14.5)
Christmas is impossible. It can’t be done. That woman won’t be silent. It can’t be expressed. Encapsulate all the colors, meanings, music, and history of World War II into one sentence, commas permitted. Now do it with a far more earth-shattering, far more complicated, more unspeakable event. That’s the tension of Christmas.
At the first creation, words were not enough. Too thin. Not even close. The expression had to go deeper, beyond mere words. Angels had to scream at the art—scream at the eagles, scream at the sand, at the elephants, at fire, oysters. “When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy.” Father, Son, and Holy Spirit couldn’t be captured in words alone, so He used evergreens and walruses. The whole creation is the shout of His personality. But even tidal waves prove insufficient. He overflows. Thus, “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory.” The Christmas sentence. Two sentences, one with a compound predicate. God “has spoken to us by His Son . . . the brightness of His glory and the express image of His person.” More insufficient sentences.
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Last Updated on Tuesday, 08 December 2009 08:21
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Politics
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By Peter J. Leithart
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Wednesday, 20 January 2010 11:00
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Nearly a decade ago, Grover Norquist, head of Americans for Tax Reform, began talking about what he called the “Leave-us-Alone” Coalition. Norquist's coalition, which includes Christian activists, defenders of property rights, home schoolers, tax-cut advocates, gun owners, and others, are united mainly by their opposition to continued expansion of federal power and by their support for lower taxes. Last I checked, Norquist is still beating the drum: “The modern conservative movement is a coalition of groups and individuals who wish to be left alone,” he explained in a 2007 column. “On their primary, vote-moving issue, what they want from the government is to be left alone.” Norquist still believes that his coalition represents a majority of American citizens, and others have seen in the Tea Party Coalition a revival of Norquist's brainchild.
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