Special: A “brown bag” Bible study and the end of the world

Image: Blogspot

Speaking of books, how about the Bible?

Of course, you open a can of worms when you bring it up because immediately it raises a host of questions. For example, which Bible? The KJV, NIE, Jerusalem Bible, RSV? Well, these are translations of one and the same book (although when you compare excepts from two different translations it is hard to believe that they came from the same source). And do we mean the Christian Bible  or are we referring to the Jewish Bible? The Jewish “bible” is called the Tanakh (tuh-KNOch), and contains the same books as the Protestant Old Testament, but in a slightly different order. (Just don’t refer to the Jewish Bible as the “Old” Testament.) The Bible is considered sacred by many, an anachronism by some, and a puzzle by any who have actually tried to read the whole thing through.

But I want to focus only on one topic, one that arose in our church’s “brown bag” bible study a week or so ago. We were discussing the Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 16:28 , wherein Jesus says,“Truly I tell you, some who are standing here will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.” (New International Version)

A question was raised: did the people living in Jesus’ time think they were living in the end times? The pastor’s answer was “Yes, quite possibly.” If so, the people in Jesus’ time were in good company. If you recall (it was only a month or so ago), thousands of people were actually terrified that the end of life as we know it was drawing near because some Mayan equivalent of Steve Jobs had developed an uncannily accurate calendar–one that ended mysteriously in December 2012! NASA fielded thousands of phone calls from people who actually thought their number was about to be punched because some nameless Mayan ran out of room on his wheel.

Did you ever wonder how many times human beings actually feared that the world was going to end? I did a search on Wikipedia (not always the most reliable source, but not a bad place to start), and discovered that there were no fewer than 51 predictions of the end of the world in the 20th century (Wikipedia warns that the entire list is incomplete). Then came the year 2000, a “millennial” year, and it led to predictions that the end would come on January 1 (Jerry Falwell); others predicted that the antiChrist would use the confusion over Y2K to begin his takeover of the world.

Predictions about the end time weren’t only made by Christians. Some Romans feared that the year 634 BC–the 120th year after the founding of Rome–would signal the end of the republic. When it didn’t happen, they figured that they had misinterpreted the signs and recalculated that it would occur in 389 BC. It didn’t, and I guess people forgot about it. The barbarians were lurking, and they really did spell the end for Rome eventually.

Speaking of recalculating, who can forget Christian radio broadcaster Harold Camping’s prediction that the end would come May 21, 2011. It didn’t. Whoops! Harold announced that he had it wrong. It would be October 21, 2011. It wasn’t, and Camping returned to a life of well-deserved obscurity.

Why is that we humans are so sure that the end is coming in our lifetimes, and so quick to believe every nut job who tells us so? We see “signs” everywhere. The climate is changing. Wars are raging in the middle east. Bacteria are winning against some antibiotics. Cats are sleeping with dogs. But you know what, our parents lived through the 30s and 40s and if you think we have it tough look at the horrors of the world back then, and the horrible economic disasters they lived through that make our problems seem like flea flicking. Every era carries dangers with it, horrors of war, famine, political ineptness (although we seem to be more burdened by this than in some years past–but we had it before too and survived!), and economic crises. Could anxiety over our problems lead us to deflect them by announcing  that the whole world is going to hell? Is it easer to throw up our hands in despair than it is to get up each morning and face our reality, whatever it is? If we’re all going down the tubes, is there at least some comfort in knowing we’re not alone?

The world will probably end someday. All things must I suppose. But it won’t be in our lifetime, probably, and no human being will ever be able to predict the time or day. The Bible tells us that, but somehow we don’t often pay attention to the parts that really make sense: “No one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” Matthew 24:36 (NIV).

One thing, however. The end will definitely come for each one of us. And truly, no one knows about that day or hour. Maybe, instead of worrying over the collapse of creation in some cataclysmic cloud cluttered parade of angels we can neither predict nor do anything about we should pay more attention to what the Bible says about how to live our lives so that, when our time comes, we can leave here without regret.

Yeah, stuff like that is in the Bible too. Perhaps that’s why the book is still a big seller.

Copyright 2013 Isaac Morris

REPRISE: The movie is here — but you should still read the book!

This picture of doomed Fantine’s orphaned daughter, Cosette, appeared in the first edition of Hugo’s novel, and would eventually become the icon for the Broadway musical. Source: Wikipedia

This was originally publised on September 18, 2012. The movie version of Les Miz opened in the U.S. on Christmas Day.


I was almost forty when I first managed to read Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables for the first time (It’s pronounced “Lay Me-zur-AHB”– but if you just want to make it through a conversation, say “Lay MIZ.“). Frankly, just looking at a book that was almost 1,400 pages long was daunting, and so I never got around to it until later in life. As it turned out, it was a good thing. It takes some living to appreciate the intensity and the many themes that are represented in this novel. Also, the incentive for reading this was the appearance on Broadway of a musical based on the novel, the soundtrack for which I had purchased (on casette tapes), the beauty of which made me curious about the story.

What I wouldn’t give to have these comics available now for my grandkids! Image source: http://onlinebookplace.com

So, I opened the novel and started reading. It took me two weeks to finish it, reading just in the evenings; but when I was done I realized that I had just experienced something special.

Hugo was no stranger to me, as I had read an abridged version of Notre Dame de Paris (better known as The Hunchback of Notre Dame) in high school, and as a kid I had read the Classics Illustrated version. I was also familiar with the movie version starring Lon Chaney as Quasimodo, the misshapen and abandoned orphan whose love fo the gypsy Esmeralda ended with both of them lying side by side for eternity. While that was a fascinating story, Les Miserables touched me in a very different way. The way Hugo intended it to. He wanted to pluck our heartstrings and make us come face to face with the way human beings live beneath the facade of civilization. And that way is filled with poverty, pain, and death. Hugo may have been the first bleeding heart liberal, but sometimes our hearts need to bleed for our fellow man, or woman.

A few years after reading the novel, I finally saw the musical when I was in New York on business. I attended with several friends, one of whom was a former cop whose physical presence and no-nonsense approach to business was intimidating (no doubt why the insurance company he worked for hired him!). Early in the play, a young woman named Fantine–beaten down by cruel fate and even crueler humans, desperate, and rapidly approaching the end of her sad life–sings that song that most people have heard by now, “I Dreamed a Dream.” As she sang, I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks; and, when I turned to look at the tough, burly ex-cop sitting next to me, I saw his tears glistening in the soft stage light. I looked at him very differently after that.

A few years later, my wife and I saw a production at Springfield’s Sangamon Auditorium. As it happened, we attended on the very night that our troops were deployed in the first war against Iraq under George H. W. Bush.

There is a scene in which Jean Valjean kneels over a wounded boy named Marius (a boy who was in love with Valjean’s “daughter” Cosette) and sings a prayer to God begging for the boy’s life:

He is young

He is only a boy

You can take

You can give

Let him be

Let him live.

That very night the twenty-something son of one of our closest friends was in an airplane bound for Iraq. You can’t imagine the impact those words had on us at that moment in time.

That is the power of Les Miserables.

It is said that this novel was in the backpack of soldiers during the Civil War. The Confederates particularly enjoyed it, and towards the end of the war when all hope was vanishing many of them referred to themselves as “Lee’s Miserables.” No doubt, those Southern boys could identify with the men who fought a losing battle from behind the barricades for a cause they believed in. By the end of the war, they knew that they were about to be overcome.

This Christmas, a long awaited film version of the musical is coming out. This is one I am not going to miss.

If you haven’t seen the musical (it has been to Springfield, St. Louis, Champaign, Chicago, and St. Louis on numerous occasions), I urge you to see the movie. However, read the book first. Not an abridged version! I know, it’s tough to do, it’s tough to find the time. But if you do, you will find that the musical version thoroughly captures the power and you will understand how, and why. You may even cry. I did.

If you start reading now, you can be done before the movie hits the theaters. I promise you, it will make the experience that much more meaningful!

Watch the official trailer to the movie, due out at Christmas.

Copyright 2012 Isaac Morris

Quick Looks at Books

Here are a few quick descriptions of books I have read recently. Some of these were read before I began the Morris Chair, but they are books which I have revisited and books worth a look!

TIme Out of Mind, by Jane Lapotaire Original Sin - A Cultural History
Abraham's Curse The Brontes

Time Out of Mind

by Jane Lapotaire

I first became acquainted with Jane Lapotaire when I watched the 1983 BBC production of “Macbeth,” wherein she starred as Lady Macbeth alongside Nicol Williamson. Her performance was sensual, visceral, and seductive; her madness and final decompensation as believable as any descent into hell I have witnessed on stage or on film.

I actually picked up and read this book some time ago, but the brain hemorrhage Ms. Lapotaire endured–and survived–is probably her greatest achievement to date. She writes about the awful feelings of incomprehension, the new awareness of her mind’s terrible trauma, and her reawakening to life in a way that makes any paltry issues I am dealing with pale by comparison. Think you have problems? Read Ms. Lapotaire’s story and you will look at life with a whole new appreciation.

Original Sin: A Cultural History

by Alan Jacobs

I purchased this after checking it out of the library because it is truly a book that needs to be reviewed and reread. Having grown up with the notion of original sin–a mainstay of Catholicism–I have frequently harbored concerns about the view of humanity that this presents. Are we all, in fact, tainted by a primal weakness inherited from our first parents and thus in need of redemption? This book is a work of scholarship that addresses the evil that men do and examines the possible explanations: are we, in fact, inclined to sin because of the sin of our parents? Or are we, as some teach, basically good and made evil by circumstances? Does the fault lie in the stars, or in ourselves? This book examines the responses that derive from the various answers to these questions, and makes a convincing case for our essential inclination to evil–whether it’s due to some parental flaw that passes on like a case of pre-natal HIV, or whether it’s “in our genes.” Thought provoking and well worth discussing.

Abraham’s Curse: The Roots of Violence in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam

by Bruce Chilton

The story of how Abraham could, without question, pack up his son, firewood and a knife and march out to sacrifice Isaac has always bothered me. A test? This book examines the story from Genesis, and an analogous story from the Koran; and the fact that it prefigures the sacrifice of Christ on the cross (who, like Isaac, carried the wood himself). The impact of this story in our history, in which we continue to sacrifice our young on the altar of Democracy, is a work of scholarship that is well-written and easily understood even by non-scholars. This is a must read for anyone who wants to understand the primal urge to sacrifice, and how much of what we have taken from the story may have been a mis-interpretation: one that has cost millions their lives. Highly recommended.

The Brontes: Wild Genius on the Moors: The Story of Three Sisters, by Juliet Barker (Pegasus, 2012, 1184 pages).

If you loved Wuthering Heights or Jane Eyre, you may have sought information about the young women who wrote them. Search no more. Juliet Barker, an Oxford Ph.D. and former curator of the Bronte Parsonage Museum in Haworth, England has written what is probably a definitive, 1100 page book about the dysfunctional Bronte family. The parson, the alcoholic brother Branwell, Emily, Charlotte, and Anne lived out their lives in a setting almost as bleak as the heath that Cathy and Heathcliff wandered. Most biographical writings have heretofore focused on one of the sisters; this book examines the whole tragic family dynamic, from which would spring two very gifted and avant garde writers. This scholarly book is only for the ardent, however. Also, it is not new. It is a rehash of Barker’s The Brontes, a 1000 plus page book that first appeared in 1994. A reviewer on Amazon referred to the earlier book as “Long, somewhat ponderous, but informative.” Pretty well sums it up. But if you want one book in your collection that will suffice for just about anything you or anyone would want to know about the reclusive Bronte sisters, this is the one.

Note: Another movie version of Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights has just come out. See my posting of July 26 concerning this latest adaptation.

Copyright 2012 Isaac Morris

November 18, 1978: The Horror of Jonestown

Image Source: Photobucket

Thirty-four years ago, November 18, 1978, America learned that a California congressman–Leo Ryan–and four others were murdered as they tried to board a plane on a remote airstrip in a South American country called Guyana. The news filtered down that the killers were members of an organization known as The Peoples Temple, located in Guyana. Soon, the country was horrified to learn that, after the airstrip murders, more than 900 men, women, and children allegedly committed mass suicide, along with their leader–a man by the innocuous name of Jim Jones.

Americans watched in disbelief as the story developed. Jim Jones had developed a large following of people, largely African Americans, in Indianapolis, and later in Redwood, California. The Temple followers constituted a “gathering,” many surrendering their government paychecks to the church in a communistic sharing, and following the orders of their leader, the dark, handsome, charismatic Jones. Jones was praised for his charitable and social endeavors, and courted by liberal politicians who were dying to be photographed with him. Rosalynn Carter was among those whose smiling face can be seen in an archival photo next to the man in sunglasses. (Rosalynn apparently had a poor sixth-sense about what constituted a good photo-op; she was once photographed with Democratic supporter John Wayne Gacy. Both are smiling.)

What happened? We now know that the horror that transpired in the jungle following the murder of Ryan and members of his entourage was not a mass suicide. Some may have lined up to “drink the Kool Aid” (yes, Jonestown was the source of that now-familiar expression); but among those who died were 200 children, and these were injected with the cyanide. Many adults who did not willingly submit were injected as well, their escape blocked by men with rifles. Jones wanted his “revolutionary statement” to be something of a consensus, even if he had to force it on his followers. Jones died of a single gunshot wound to the head, probably self-inflicted.

The more important questions are, why did it happen, and how could it happen? This has been the subject of many articles, documentaries, and almost seventy books ever since the tragedy. How could decent, caring, God-fearing human beings allow themselves to surrender their lives into the hands of another human being? What altruistic or religious instincts made it possible for them to walk willingly into arms of a megalomaniac?

Could something like this happen again?

Among the many  books written about Jonestown, some of the best that I have read include Raven: The Untold Story of the Rev. Jim Jones and His People, by Tim Reiterman (Tarcher; First Edition edition, 2008; 688 pages). This is no ivory tower treatment. Reiterman, who was an AP correspondent traveling with Ryan’s entourage, was wounded during the Port Kaituma attack that killed Ryan and four others.

An affidavit of Deborah Layton’s came to the attention of Rep. Leo Ryan (D-CA)  and helped put him on the path to Guyana.  Image: AP

There are several books written by survivors, or people who managed to escape from Jonestown before the tragedy unfolded. My favorite by far is Seductive Poison: A Jonestown Survivor’s Story of Life and Death in the People’s Temple, by Deborah Layton (Anchor, 1999; 368 pages). Deborah’s brother, Larry Layton, left Jonestown with Ryan posing as a defector. He boarded the plane, and once the tractor arrived hauling the assassins, he opened fire. He was subdued, and later was the only Jonestown shooter to be convicted.

Deborah, unlike her brother, knew things were totally screwed up in Jonestown and managed to escape several months before the murders. She had been a trusted insider who managed the Temple’s money. She had been raped by Jones, and came to understand that the man was slowly devouring every soul that came under his spell.

Deborah’s story is made more tragic because just about her whole family fell under the the spell cast by James Warran Jones. The story of the Layton family’s involvement with Peoples Temple was beautifully told by Min S. Yee in In My Father’s House: The Story of the Layton Family and the Reverend Jim Jones (New York: Holt, Reinhart, and Winston, 1981). This book isn’t widely available (I found it at the local library); but it is the best I have read because it conveys the high price a madman can exact from good and decent people. Her mother died in Jonestown shortly before the massacre, and Deborah lost two sisters-in-law and her two-year old nephew in the jungle.  Her brother Larry was released from prison in 2002 (to this day he protests his innocence). Deborah doesn’t have many of her once-large family left. Today, she lives in the Bay area along with her daughter.

I came to know Layton somewhat, through phone conversations and e-mail correspondence, after reading this book (read my 2002 review on Amazon.com). A gifted writer, she writes of her escape in such a way as to create suspense–even though you know that she got out you are praying that she will make it!

The fascination with Jonestown hasn’t abated, and the recent declassification of government files has added much to the story for writers like Julia Scheeres, whose book  A Thousand Lives appeared just last year (Free Press, 2011; 320 pages). This I haven’t read, but it is on my short list.

There are documentaries about Jonestown available as well. The best that I have seen is Jonestown: Life and Death of the Peoples Temple, which was done for PBS and American Experience in recent years. Deborah Layton is among those interviewed. Warning: This is intense. I showed it to my World Religions class a few semesters ago; one or two students had to leave the room.

When the 900 plus human beings were discovered in the jungles of Guyana shortly after they were murdered, the body of Jones was found on the stage of the pavilion under a sign that read: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

On November 28, we remember 900 human beings, most of them decent people in search of a better life, one filled with meaning, who fell victim to a man who knew how to manipulate those needs. This is something we must remember, so as never to allow it to happen again.

Copyright Isaac Morris 2012

Ever had the bejesus scared out of you?

In this posting, I discuss some scary books that were made into movies. What are some of the scariest books you have read or movies you have seen?


I have frequently observed that there is a great deal of difference between reading a book and seeing a movie based on a book. When it comes to “scary” books, there is all the difference in the world.

Here are some books that, if you have the patience, will creep you out unlike any  of the movies that were made of them.

The Exorcist, by William Peter Blatty

You’ve either heard about or seen the 1973 movie with its rotating heads and levitational hijinks–and it was a scary film. But the thrills were quick and made you jump out of your seat. Reading the 1971 novel by Blatty, a former Jesuit, as I did, late at night, left me with the slowly realized yet oppressive sense of evil that accompanies a nightmare. The story is based on an occurrence in St. Louis, MO in 1949 that is still part of the local lore. Reading Blatty’s novel is truly a creepy experience, and if you dare give it a try some night when you are alone.

Oh, and as far as movies go, one of the most frightening scenes in any film I have seen occurs in Exorcist III, when something wicked appears suddenly out of nowhere in the background at an insane asylum with a pair of breastbone shears that are about to remove someone’s head off-camera. You don’t see the beheading: you don’t need to. Your pants have already been filled. Exorcist III is based on Blatty’s follow-up novel, Legion. 

Dracula, by Bram Stoker

This old saw? You have to be kidding me?

Frank Langella

Frank Langella’s portrayal of the Count probably most closely approximated the evil of Stoker’s bloodsucker–and the seductiveness.

No, actually I am not kidding. Ever since Bela Lugosi brought the character to life in black in white (1931), the horror of Dracula as envisioned by Stoker was lost. Even the 1992 Bram Stoker’s Dracula wasn’t Bram Stoker’s; nowhere in Stoker is the name Vlad the Impaler associated with the horror from Transylvania.

Dracula is an epistolary novel, i.e., one that is told through letters and journals of those involved. I first read it it when I was a sophomore in high school, and it chilled me as I read it at night. True evil doesn’t jump out at you, it seduces and eventually smothers you: it isn’t Jason or Freddy, it’s crystal meth.

We have become so inured to the evil in our world, I think, that we don’t recognize it any more and so we laugh at what we used to find frightening (or we romanticize it–don’t get me started on the Twilight series). Yet if you read Stoker’s original, in the quiet of your home, late at night, perhaps you will once again find that the absence of goodness leaves you with a chill somewhere deep down.

I’m not the only one who thinks Dracula is worth a second look: Another blogger, Peter Galen Massey, has taken a look at Dracula’s legacy this month, and it is worth a read!

Here’s a little video you might enjoy. It will relax you.

Happy Halloween!

Copyright 2012 Isaac Morris