Some students take offense very easily.
During one lecture, a student asked a question I’ve heard many times: “If we evolved from monkeys, why are there still monkeys?” My response was and is always the same: we didn’t evolve from monkeys. Humans and monkeys evolved from a common ancestor. One ancestral population evolved in one direction toward modern-day monkeys, while another evolved toward humans. The explanation clicked for most students, but not all, so I tried another. I asked the students to consider this: Catholics are the oldest Christian denomination, and so if Protestants evolved from Catholics, why are there still Catholics? Some students laughed, some found it a clarifying example, and others were clearly offended.
Two days later, a student walked down to the lectern after class and informed me that I was wrong about Catholics. He said Baptists were the first Christians and that this is clearly explained in the Bible. His mother told him so. I asked where this was explained in the Bible. He glared at me and said, “John the Baptist, duh!” and then walked away.
Defending Darwin
3.14.2015
2.17.2015
Ash Wednesday
(2015)
No gifts.
No chocolate.
No parties.
No alleluias.
Just the faithful
gathering at
His command
on an
ordinary
winter Wednesday.
They pray that
their hardened hearts
be opened
so the ashes
of pain and sin
that are
encased in
them
be scraped away.
No chocolate.
No parties.
No alleluias.
Just the faithful
gathering at
His command
on an
ordinary
winter Wednesday.
They pray that
their hardened hearts
be opened
so the ashes
of pain and sin
that are
encased in
them
be scraped away.
2.10.2015
To Be Rid of a Rival
For this curse, you need a liter of good grain liquor
and a heartful of unquenchable hate.
Keep the bottle corked, and spend a long, dry night
thinking of everything your rival has
that ought to be yours.
At dawn, roll up your trousers
and set off barefoot down an unmaintained
side road that dissolves into sand, then dead-ends
at the river. Walk upstream until you see
the swift skein of the water tangle and fray,
marking the snag
where the river dumps its garbage.
An almost spokeless bicycle wheel, an oil drum,
two traffic cones and the aluminum
bones of a beach chair have fetched up on this altar
of wet rock and weed. Wade in as close
as you can to make your own
ugly offering.
The stream may be icy, but your stoked-up rage
will keep you warm as you unstop the bottle
and drink deep, wishing your rival
gone gone gone gone. Your curse will gain
strength with every swig.
Picture a heart attack;
picture a jittery mugger with a gun;
a missed stoplight and a truck; a sailboat
in a thunderstorm. When your head starts to swim,
take a final pull, then throw the bottle hard
onto the trash heap. A trail
of white lightning will
glitter for an instant like shards of glass across the air.
Wish once more. If your libation is accepted,
some misfortune will soon carry your rival away—
cast off, washed up, worn down— until nothing is left
but a slight catch in the river’s throat.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)