Christine Mennicke

In an attempt to resolve the conflict between creation and evolution, Dowe focuses on putting both sides of the argument into a historical context. He develops the idea that the current creation science movement is really a recent phenomenon and that the original objections to Darwin were not based on a literal reading of Genesis. Instead, the original objections to Darwin dealt with things like human dignity and superiority.

Thus, Dowe is able to provide several examples of Christians at the time of Darwin who accepted his theory, which develops the strongest basis for his argument of harmony between creation and evolution. To begin, Dowe argues that Darwin himself did not actually hold a conflict view. Darwin believed that evolution could not rule out the possibility of God, and his own agnosticism came from seeing suffering in the world, not from anything biological (126). Another of Dowe's primary arguments comes from Asa Gray, a Christian friend and defender of Darwin. Gray proposes that evolution falls under the category of secondary cause, being a physical mechanism God uses. Furthermore, he infers that the best explanation of the derivation of species is that species came from God through natural selection, as opposed to without God or with God creating fixity of species (129). Thus, Dowe uses Gray's standpoint of theistic evolution as a major support for a harmonious view of creation and evolution. Dowe has a few more examples of harmonious views other than Gray's.  For instance, he notes some Christians who believe the biological aspect of natural selection, but say that the creation of the soul requires intervention (136). Lastly, Dowe explains that some objections to Darwin do not actually illustrate conflict between creation and evolution. Several Christians at the time of Darwin were not concerned with biblical literalism, but they instead saw flaws in Darwin's reasoning and therefore disagreed with him on a scientific, not religious basis. Even today's creation scientists, while conflicting with evolution, do not completely conflict with science, since they consider creation science as legitimate science (141).

Dowe's argument has several strengths. First of all, it follows the history of the conflict, beginning before Darwin and going up to today. Doing this allows Dowe to establish both sides of the argument with very little dramatics and caricaturing, which ultimately makes the conflict between the two much less pronounced. Going through the history also places both arguments in their appropriate contexts. The chapter showed how the explanation or roots of humanity's purpose progressed from teleological to mechanical to design to evolution. In this progression of explanations, the idea of evolution merely progressed from a series of ideas, so how it arose makes sense in its historical context. This further dissipates the dramatics that often abound about evolution today. Ultimately, this gives Dowe the ability to present various harmonious views of creation and evolution with a greater chance that his readers will take those views seriously. Also, he points out that the views he presents are from strong, otherwise conservative Christians. Readers are therefore much less likely to think of these unexpected views as a compromise of religion, but rather they will see them as carefully thought out. The fact that he shows Darwin himself as holding a harmonious view is also crucial. If Darwin is the representative for evolution, and he does not think it conflicts with religion, then his idea of evolution is not as threatening and science cannot deny religion. Overall, Dowe uses examples of various views to place most Christians and scientists on the side of a harmonious view, making the creation science movement the odd one out. Creation science only finds conflict because of its strictly literal interpretation of the Bible, Dowe argues. That is an additional strength to his argument for harmony: he has already given numerous examples of Christians throughout history who believed the Bible might not be literal in everything it says. Thus, the idea of the problems of strict biblical literalism ties into the rest of the book and gives Dowe's argument in this chapter an even stronger basis.

                However, Dowe's argument is weak in some respects. Most importantly, he does not deal with current ideas about creation and evolution other than those of the creation science movement. Otherwise, the only ideas he presents are those from the time of Darwin, whereas many Christians today may not subscribe to those ideas but also may not be inclined to believe in theistic evolution. Thus, though Dowe's arguments are clear and harmonious, they may not be satisfying to many Christians today. Another weakness in Dowe's argument is his focus on the views of Christians who are scientists. Most of the examples he gave of historical people who held the harmonious view were not only Christians or scientists, but both. Using these people as a basis for harmony between the two is weak, since those people are naturally inclined to hold a harmonious view. Instead, the people who need convincing of the harmonious view are those who are either Christians or scientists. At most, Dowe's argument might show those people that they could accept the other side of the argument, but it does not give them a strong motivation to do so.

                Overall, Dowe's argument for the harmonious interaction of creation and evolution is strong. He does not appear to make wide stretches to make the harmonious view make sense, but rather gives several clear examples of people who held reasonable, harmonious views. This argument may not be convincing for people who are strictly creationist or evolutionist, but it is important in that it takes today's dramatics away from the issue and shows that a harmonious view is not completely out of the question for either Christians or scientists.

Without Enlightenment ideas, the Declaration of Independence and American Revolution may not have even happened. The Enlightenment encouraged reform and urged people to use their reason to solve problems and reach new conclusions (Harrison et al 470). That is precisely what American independence was founded on, and those ideas provided the impetus and courage to formally break from the powerful mother country. In truth, breaking away from Great Britain was a highly risky and bold move, and Thomas Jefferson realized that declaring independence needed to be done carefully but assertively. Thus, he crafted an argument using Enlightenment ideas as support for the decision to break away. The Enlightenment concepts of reason, change and progress, nature, and Deism in the Declaration of Independence demonstrate the credibility and thoughtfulness of the argument for independence, making the intent of the document sincere despite its audacity.  

            As a whole, the Declaration of Independence is firmly structured around a reason-based argument, which provides clarity and shows that serious thought went into its creation. Its structure has three parts: the beginning, which describes how government should be, the middle, a list of grievances against King George III, and the end, which concludes that independence is justified. Interestingly, its structure resembles a scientific experiment. The beginning is like a hypothesis, making a conjecture that the colonies have the right to independence. Then, the middle is like data, since it is all evidence that could help prove the hypothesis. Lastly, the end draws the conclusion that the evidence supports the hypothesis. Furthermore, the end eliminates sources of error in the decision to be independent in that it describes the countless measures to which the colonies had gone for support to no avail (Jefferson). This structure makes independence a provable, reasoned conclusion, reached through nothing other than empiricism. Because it is set up as proved, scientific fact, the case for independence is credible and hard to refute, despite the fact that it opposes history and tradition.

In fact, opposing tradition with reasoned argument was one of the hallmarks of Enlightenment thought (Harrison et al 469). This was because challenging traditional ideas could help bring about change and progress. Jefferson reflects the spirit of change in the Declaration of Independence, explaining that the change of independence is the only way to protect the peoples' happiness. Essentially, Jefferson holds that the purpose of government should be to ensure the rights of "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness," and when a government does not uphold those rights, then it must be changed (Jefferson). Still, he says that change should not come from "light and transient Causes," but only when grievances have become too great to bear (Jefferson). By doing this, Jefferson negates any accusation that declaring independence was a hasty or irrational decision and instead gives it the credibility of prudence. He also describes change as not just a desire, but as a necessity. The first line of the Declaration calls independence for the colonies "necessary" and later calls it the "Right of the People" (Jefferson). Describing independence in these terms, where it is the only possibility for progress, further halts arguments against it. Overall, Jefferson defines government's purpose and says that if that purpose is not upheld, then people have the right to change the government to secure their personal freedoms.

That recurring idea of freedoms in the Declaration demonstrates the Enlightenment concept of perfection in natural human existence. Jefferson uses the natural ideal combined with Deism to give the argument for independence one more source of credibility, that of divine right. For Deists, God "revealed himself in nature and through reason" (Reid). In particular, human nature was considered good; societal structures made people bad. Thus, even though God was far away in the Deists' view, God was still beneficent and would show his goodness when things existed in their natural states. This view turns the attempt to create a more natural state of government into a God-ordained privilege. As expected, this view seen in the Declaration, where Jefferson says that the "Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them" to break political bands that do not serve and promote the natural existence of humanity (Jefferson). However, even though Jefferson invokes divine right to support the case for independence, he makes the intention of the new government very clear: to serve people, not God. Though people are "endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights," the point of government is not to recognize the Creator's goodness but rather to uphold and protect those rights for the people (Jefferson). Furthermore, though Jefferson and his compatriots rely on the "Protection of the divine Providence," they pledge not to the divine, but "pledge to each other" in a very human-centered way (Jefferson). Essentially, Jefferson uses God to give the argument for independence credibility by authority, but his Deist, naturalistic way of thinking allows him to turn the focus away from God and direct it instead toward human nature and goodness.

Because declaring independence was such a bold thing to do, Jefferson provided plenty of reasons why he and the rest of the Founding Fathers were doing so. Those reasons reflected their Enlightenment views, since they focused on concepts such as reason, change and progress, nature, and Deism. Of course, no matter how carefully crafted or tight the arguments of the Declaration were, it still brought about a war. When people today look back on Jefferson's words, though, they can still see evidence of the hope that reason and knowledge would be the true purveyors of change, not military action. The ideas of independence took just as much courage to declare as to fight for. Truly, the Founding Fathers lived out the dare to know.

Works Cited

Harrison, J., Sullivan, R., and Sherman, D. A Short History of Western Civilization, 6^th ed. New

            York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1985.

Jefferson, Thomas. Declaration of Independence. Retrieved 10/28/08 from

http://webct.csp.edu/SCRIPT/HON11001f08/scripts/serve_home

Reid, Daniel G, ed. Dictionary of Christianity in America. Dowers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press,

 1990.

Today, many people think that science and religion are irreconcilable. In that worldview, if people believe in God and in the truth of the Bible, then they must therefore deny things like the scientific age of the earth or evolutionary theory. On the other hand, if people believe the findings of science, then they must come to the conclusion that God does not exist or is at least not active in the world. These two types of people are extremes. Still, even Christians who are open to science may encounter difficulties in an attempt to reconcile it with their beliefs. Luckily, this issue has existed for a long time, and people can look to past thinkers who have already delved into the issue. One such thinker was Thomas Aquinas, a theologian of the 13^th century. The issue of his time was the reconciliation of pagan Aristotle's reason and Christian revelation. Instead of saying that Christian truths cancelled out Aristotle's human reason, he held that the two went hand in hand. In chapter VII of his work Summa Contra Gentiles, Aquinas uses the first principle of non-contradiction and the first condition of the ability of the mind to know truth to deduce that reason and revelation both are, and in fact must be valid.

                Aquinas begins his argument in chapter VII by establishing that the truths of reason and the truths of revelation are indeed true. In the former chapters, Aquinas had already established that faith from revelation is true. Also, what the human mind knows through reason must be true, since according to the first condition, the mind has the capability to grasp truth. If the mind reasoned things that were not true, then the first condition would not hold. Even for those who doubt the truth of human reason and instead believe in the authority of God, Aquinas has an answer. Because God created the human mind, he also gave it the capability to reason and know truth. The first condition supports that idea. This means that human reason is a subset of divine knowledge, which could not possibly err. Furthermore, if humans could not reason truth, then God would have created faulty minds, which no one believing in the authority of God would accept. Hence, what the mind figures out from reason must be true, and the faith God gives people though revelation also must be true. With this use of primary truths in an argument, Aquinas corners his opponents into agreeing with his position. No one in Aquinas' time would doubt any of the primary truths, so Aquinas uses the solid foundation of the primary truths to create an undeniable argument that the mind's reasoning and faith are both true.

                Since Aquinas establishes that both reason and faith are true and that they both come from God, he can use the first principle of non-contradiction. If both are true, then they cannot possibly contradict according to the first principle. Therefore, none of the truths that come from faith can possibly contradict the truths that come from reason. Instead, Aquinas puts reason and faith in a hierarchy, saying that humans can reason truth, but faith fills in even more truth that they could not possibly reach solely through reason. This defines the validity of each type of truth. People can use reason to learn about the natural world, but when they attempt to use reason to learn about God, their minds fall short. The mind falls short not because it cannot understand truth, but because it cannot use reason to grasp or deduce things about God. When this happens, then revelation provides truths of faith. Accordingly, the two types of truth do not contradict one another, but work together in harmony.

                To end his argument, Aquinas states that any arguments against the truths of faith are invalid. This is because an argument undermining faith would go against the primary truths: it would be saying that two truths contradict, when that cannot be. In conclusion, Aquinas gives people the right and the duty to embrace both reason and faith truths. For many people today, Aquinas' argument can be of comfort. Instead of having to choose one truth and deny the evidence present for the other, people can see that both types of truth come from God. Of course, for the extreme people described previously, Aquinas' arguments may be seen as a compromise of religion or a weakening of science. Neither of those was in Aquinas' intentions. Instead, Aquinas wanted to harmonize two disciplines that each held evidence of their truth, and he did so using incontrovertible primary truths. Overall, his argument is one that provides an intelligent and broad view of the world and the supernatural.

Directed Writing 3

            The poem "A Brave and Startling Truth" by Maya Angelou focuses on exploring the possibility and necessity of peace on earth. Thus, the truth indicated in the title is the idea that humanity possesses the ability to live peacefully and make the world a good place for everyone to live. That truth is "brave" because it boldly goes against previous human history, filled with war and conflict. In this way, the truth does not correspond with reality and may therefore be considered false. It is also "startling" because many people easily give up on the idea that peace can be achieved; they say that human nature makes people selfish, making conflict impossible to cure. Human history would demonstrate that peace does not work out, making it pragmatically untrue to state that it could. Essentially, the truth about which Angelou writes is one that can be disproven using different theories or tests of truth.

            Because I am an idealist, I am inclined to agree with Angelou's audacious declaration of truth. I have always believed in the ability for humanity to improve itself, which perhaps indicates that I am still a modernist living in a postmodern world. When I hear about people working for peace and to end conflict, I feel hopeful for the fate of humanity. Still, I always have to recognize how fleeting peace can be in this world--peace consistently disappears where it once existed--which is why I cannot put my faith in the capabilities of humanity.

Christian faith gives me a much more solid reason to believe that peace will one day come to this earth. I believe that Christ will come again to restore the earth and make it God's domain, as N.T. Wright described in Simply Christian. Angelou does not flat out state that the second coming of Christ will be the reason for peace; in fact, she seems to say that humanity in itself has the power to make peace with phrases like "we are the possible." Still, much of her language hints at a religious or even Christian subtext. Near the beginning of the poem, she says that "all signs tell us" about the inevitable coming of peace and truth to the world. This describes a truth of revelation. Then, she speaks of how we were created on this earth, but makes the distinction that we are "neither devils nor divines." Rather, this language seems to describe how humanity is full of sin, but that even though we are not perfect, God still loves and cares for us. Furthermore, she scorns "sanctimonious piety," which might create a tone of hostility against religion, but rather it could say that the religious traditions of the world now have become hypocritical and that people have lost sight of the true nature of God. I think she is saying that when Christ comes again, then everyone will be in God's domain, and people will know God without having to appear pious.

            Most of all, Angelou places humanity above all else on the earth, and I think this shows how we were created and favored by God. Because of this favor and the promise God made through Jesus, the "brave and startling truth" will in fact arrive.

Directed Writing #2

                Many people find grasping postmodernism difficult because of its defiance of definition and demand for subjectivity. In this way, the sentence "This sentence serves no logical purpose" may illustrate postmodernism purely because it is difficult to understand; attempting to make sense of this sentence sends the mind in circles. To clarify, postmodernism formed as a response to modernism. Modernism centered on scientific knowledge, stability, progress, and functionality. In response, postmodernism looks past the façade of progress and sense that modernism built up, attempting to question whether or not things need to make sense at all. Postmodern ideas thus take modern ideas and turn them upside-down. The sentence "This sentence serves no logical purpose" demonstrates several of those postmodern ideas including personal reflection, deconstruction of modern rationality and functionality, and subjective truth.

                Postmodernism thrives on exploring the unknown and the undefined. Often, the unknown in question is the personal identity, and those who embrace a postmodern worldview constantly reflect on themselves. The sentence illustrates this postmodern characteristic of personal reflection. It refers to itself, giving it a sense of self-awareness; it knows that it is a sentence. Knowing itself allows it to make judgments about its identity, and it does so. At the same time, when it refers to itself as a sentence, it connects itself to the typical idea of what a sentence should be. However, what it does about that definition illustrates another characteristic of postmodernism.

                The sentence takes that definition and deconstructs it, which shows the postmodern rejection of modern functionality and rationality. A sentence is typically thought of as a grouping of words that makes sense and altogether has some purpose or meaning. In modern thought, the functionality and rationality of language was an especially important idea. Logically speaking, if a group of words was a sentence, then it had a purpose. To start, this sentence defines itself as a sentence, and one can see that it is in fact a grouping of words that make sense when read. However, the sentence then uses its self-awareness and consequent power to make judgments about itself and declares that it has no purpose. This is a contradiction of the modern definition of functional, rational language. That contradiction leads to two different postmodern branches of thought. First of all, one might say that because it is a sentence yet does not match the typical definition of a sentence, then the typical definition is not absolutely true; postmodernism always questions absolute truth and works to find exceptions to rules. On the other hand, one could say that because the sentence does not fit the typical definition of a sentence, then it is actually not a sentence at all. A branch of thought like this follows the postmodern love of the undefined. It leaves one needing to explore to find a possible definition. Furthermore, if it is not actually a sentence, then that means the sentence told a lie.

                Exploring whether or not the sentence is deceitful or truthful leads to the postmodern idea of subjective truth. As mentioned previously, one can doubt whether or not the sentence actually is a sentence. In addition, one can question the truth of its content--whether or not the sentence has no logical purpose as it says. The sentence itself says that it has no logical purpose, and that may be true. It stands alone, and therefore it lacks a context that would give it a clear purpose. Overall, its only purpose is for some to examine it, so for those who are not examining it, the sentence serves no logical purpose and has no reason to exist. However, for those reading and thinking about it, the sentence is the center of thought and therefore does have a purpose. This creates a subjective truth: what it says is true for some but not true for others. Because the sentence creates a relative truth, it undermines the possibility of absolute truth, which is precisely what postmodernism attempts to do. Lastly, the truth of the sentence cannot be tested scientifically. No experiment could show that the sentence's content is true, since its truth is subjective. Therefore, the sentence does not conform to modernism's scientific method of determining truth.

                Overall, the sentence "This sentence serves no logical purpose" demonstrates several key ideas of postmodernism. Most importantly, it takes something that should be straightforward, the idea of a sentence, and makes it unclear and unresolved. In doing so, it opens up several new avenues of thought and alternative ways of viewing something that formerly did not even require a second glance. Postmodernism leads to new ways of thinking, which can be quite exciting. Still, the exhaustive array of thoughts it produces may leave one mildly nostalgic for the relatively clear thinking of modernity.

In the past, many cultures worshipped the sun as a supreme god. This is understandable, as the sun provided what they needed to live but was still mysterious in its power. Even as people now know much more about the true nature of the sun, the comparison of the sun's life-giving power with God's life-giving power is still apparent. Writer N.T. Wright takes this comparison a step further in his book Simply Christian, saying that attempting to study God by doing theology is similar to staring at the sun. By this, he means that people do not need to focus on a far-off point to get to know God, but rather they can see the evidence of God all around them on earth (Wright 56). This metaphor is helpful because it parallels Wright's ideas that no one person can fully understand God, that people need certain "equipment" to do theology, and that the spheres of heaven and earth overlap. However, this metaphor is problematic because it places God in a physical space and also presents doing theology as harmful.

                First of all, the metaphor of staring at the sun helps Wright win over his post-modern audience, since it alludes that no one has the ability to fully understand God. No one can stare at the sun, so no single person's image of God is objective. As Wright describes, "no human argument could ever...force [God] to submit to human inspection" (57). For a post-modern audience accustomed to subjectivity, this is a welcome idea. Still, this idea does not cave into post-modernism and diminish the power of God, saying that everyone's subjective image of God is true for him or her, but rather it contends that God will always have a degree of mystery that humbles individual views.

                However, certain equipment can aid in understanding that mystery. Scientists have learned to examine the sun with powerful telescopes, and sunglasses can allow people to look at the sun every day. For Wright, the equipment used to stare at the sun by doing theology is knowledge of the history of Christianity. He describes how understanding Jesus' story in its historical and culture context is essential to understanding who Jesus was (Wright 71-72). If people do not look at history, then their image of Jesus "slides away into fantasy" (Wright 95). Also, knowledge of the Bible in its entirety aids in doing theology. Not only does help with setting a historical context, but it contains numerous recurring themes and images. Wright says that these themes and images are like lenses that allow people to understand Jesus' story in greater depth (108). Ultimately, growing in understanding of Jesus leads to a better understanding of God. Thus, because of Jesus' presence on earth, people have equipment to use for doing theology. 

                Jesus' presence on earth is also pivotal in Wright's idea of the overlap of heaven and earth. However, thinking of heaven as God's domain and not as a far-off place may be a new idea to many readers, which is where the sun metaphor helps once again. If doing theology is likened to staring at the sun, then God can accordingly be compared to the sun. The sun is in a physical domain other than earth's, yet the earth feels the sun's presence with warm rays and bright light. To some degree, those two domains overlap. Similarly, God is in heaven, a domain (or state of being) other than the earth's. Then, when Jesus came to earth, people saw evidence of God's presence and power. As Wright says, God was "present on earth without having to leave heaven" (65). Jesus provided the definitive overlap of heaven and earth, and because of that, people do not need to stare at the sun to see the light already around them.

                Unfortunately, the metaphor of "staring at the sun" runs into trouble if people take the metaphor of God in connection with the sun too seriously. True, the comparison gives a sense of the power of God, but it also places God in a specific place distant from the earth. This is precisely what Wright argues against. He says specifically that when he says heaven, he is "not referring to a place or location within our world of space, time and matter" (Wright 59). Then again, because Wright does take care to explain this shortcoming of the metaphor, it is only mildly problematic.

                A larger problem arises because, when compared to staring at the sun, doing theology is presented as harmful. It does not allow people to make a lifestyle of understanding and getting to know God, but rather seems to say that trying to understand God is alright only in extremely brief, superficial interactions. Furthermore, if staring at the sun is alright with special, expensive telescopes, then this metaphor hints that only a very select few can work to understand God personally. From the common Christian viewpoint that a personal relationship with God is important, this metaphor is difficult to accept.

                Despite these glitches in Wright's metaphor, his book does invite this writer to consider Christian theology more deeply. In particular, his idea of the overlap of heaven and earth opened a new, creative view of Christianity that was quite exciting to read. As this writer read Wright's book, she was in Israel on the Sea of Galilee, where she could nearly sense the remaining holiness of that past overlap of heaven and earth. Then, Wright presented an even more exciting idea: that "the whole world is now God's holy land" (125-126). This simple statement brought that overlap of the past into the present for this writer, which was a wonderful new way of looking at Jesus' life and work on earth. Thus, because of both Wright's new angles on familiar ideas and personal experiences, this writer does wish to explore Christian theology in greater detail.

Works Cited

Wright, N.T. Simply Christian. New York: HarperOne, 2006.

Holy buckets! We're done digging!

I haven't blogged since Petra, which I realize now was a long time ago. Well, last week I got heat exhaustion. Yeah. I had to miss a day of digging :( :( :( But luckily, it was just one day and no more.

So, I had mentioned that we found something weird--it looked like it could have been a crypt. That turned out to be nothing--perhaps a bed? Actually, we ended up finding a cistern right next to it, so we did end up finding something exciting. I had been digging there the day I got heat exhaustion, and the ground kept caving in. I was wondering when I was going to fall through. Later, I got to help clean it out, which meant going down into the cistern with a ladder and a hard hat and scooping out all the dirt. I felt very Village People.

Then, I didn't get to do much heavy digging for a couple days, and I was getting bored. The last few days, though, I got to dig a lot, which made me really happy. I didn't count the number of buckets, though. One day I did that when I was bored, and I got over 200 buckets filled that day, and that was even with having to finish extra early to take levels. Hmm, I don't know if I explained that before. I have the job of helping take levels, which means that I go around to all the places we've been digging each day and hold a meter stick to document elevation levels. It's pretty fun. At first, I wasn't sure if I liked it, especially because it meant walking around in the sun during the hottest part of the dig, but by the end, I enjoyed it quite a bit.

So yeah, this week was digging, and then yesterday and today, we cleaned up the site. That meant I swept for about two hours this morning, and then had nothing to do for the rest of the day except take levels (we all finished early). Because we were done so early, a bunch of us decided to walk all the way down the hill. Usually we just have to walk down about a quarter of a mile (who am I kidding, I have no perception of distances at all) to the bus that drives us about 10 minutes to the kibbutz, but we walked all the way, which took about 40 minutes. It was a lot of fun. I was so set on beating the bus down (we left about a half hour before the bus) that when I was almost to the kibbutz and heard the bus coming behind me, I just ran until I reached the gate. I beat it :)

Now, I'm all done packing, and very surprised at how much more room I have in my suitcase. I'm excited to come home--I had a lot of fun here, but I think four weeks is long enough, especially when I'm craving fortune cookies and tacos. It's even worse because I hear the word "church" a lot because of the excavation, and that sounds just like a fortune cookie. Also, I was just dying in Jordan because "Jordan" sounds like popcorn, and I've been wanting a popcorn ball almost the entire trip. That was tough. I've endured worse, though :) I'm also excited to ride my bike. And naturally, I'll be excited to wear clothes that don't smell like dust. Most of all, I'll be glad to see family and friends.

However, I may not be able to restrain from digging a hole in our backyard.

I haven't written an entry in a while!

Well, last week I was a bit more tired than I was the first week, but I got through it alright. I should explain a bit about the digging: the church we're excavating is divided up into squares by number and letter, and the first week, I dug in A0, which meant the northeast corner of the church. We found a wall there going north/south (pretty exciting stuff). Then the second week, I moved south to A1 and A2, where we dug down to reveal more of the wall. I spent most of my time in A1, where we found TONS of roof tiles. I knew I was hungry for food from home because by the end of the week, those roof tiles reminded me of graham crackers. Oh man. That probably meant I had seen far too many roof tiles as well.

This weekend, we took a trip to Jordan for three days. I really enjoyed our time there. The climate is cooler than Israel's, so touring outside was great. Anyway, our main visit was a full-day tour of Petra. Petra was INCREDIBLE. It's an ancient lost city reachable only by walking a mile or so through the bottom of a narrow canyon. The city has numerous titanic structures carved into its red sandstone cliffs--most famously, the Treasury, which was seen in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade--it's the place they go into to find the Holy Grail. Not quite, in reality. But that did inspire several rounds of the Indiana Jones theme from some members of the group.

Actually, repetition of the Indiana Jones theme gave us inspiration when our group climbed 850 steps to Petra's monastery. Man. What made the hike particularly toiling was the option of riding a donkey to the top. Why? Because the donkeys used the same steps that the walkers used, but of course they still did what donkeys...do.

By the end of the day, I had walked about 13 miles, several of them climbing uphill. I couldn't form coherent sentences, and everything became funny to me.

The next day we rode the bus back to the kibbutz (with some delays), but we stopped for lunch on the way. We went to this crazy restaurant. First of all, for our table of six, we had about five waiters, who first brought out pita bread and seven different kinds of salads/spreads to go with it. All of us at the table just went nuts, it was so good. Immediately after we finished with that, the waiters whisked away our plates and brought out a platter with pieces of lamb, chicken, and kebabs with onions and peppers and--get this--garnished with french fries on top. It was the most ridiculously extravagant display of food I've ever seen. I just laughed. Quinn (a guy from Canada) actually started tearing up. As a grand finish, the waiters brought out a huge plate of watermelon. Man, it all happened so fast. I think Quinn described it best when we were finished: it was like we were assaulted with food.

I was getting really anxious to get back to digging, though. As cool as the sites were, I began to grow impatient with just touring and wanted to get back to the hard work of the dig. Right now, with the first day of digging this week done, I feel great. We found some mysterious stuff today, too, but I think this entry is long enough--I'll tell about that when we maybe figure out what it is.

Getting back to digging after a two-day break actually felt really good. Over the weekend, I got so drowsy during the day without having seven hours of work to wake me up in the morning. Although, we did go to some pretty cool places on Saturday.

First of all, we went to Bet She'an National Park, which had the ruins of an ancient city of the same name. I climbed to the top of a big hill to get the view overlooking the city, and even though it was really hot out, the view was worth the climb. It was like looking out over a model, and being able to see how an ancient city like that was planned and organized just brought the history to life. Also, we went into their theater, and I got stand out in the middle of the stage to test out the acoustics. Pirates of Penzance has been to the ancient world!

Next, we went to Zippori National Park, which held some of the most intricate and beautiful mosaics in all of Israel. Some of them were geometric patterns, others were depictions of Amazons, but the best one was a mosaic dedicated to Dionysus--not because of the subject matter :) That particular mosaic was made of an estimated 1.5 million tiny tiles of at least 25 colors. If Georges Seurat existed in the ancient world, this probably would have been his mosaic. The most beautiful part of the mosaic was a woman's face on its border--it looked as if it had been painted and not put together with tiles.

The last place we stopped was Nazareth, where we saw the Church of the Annunciation. This church had huge mosaic depictions of Mary from countries all over the world, which were gorgeous (for the most part). The one from the United States looked kind of like an acid trip. Well, what can you do? It was also just a cool experience being in Nazareth.

Speaking of which, it's hard to describe the feeling of being in the Holy Land. Everywhere I go, the land aches with history. I don't even have to think about what has happened here; instead, I feel as if the land is constantly echoing secrets and that I can't help but hear. It resounds of a mysterious, spiritual past, and the echoes of that past keep it alive in the present. The land has a far-off quality like someone caught in a daydream, as if the land is present physically but holds memories of a connection with heaven. I've never been anywhere like it. I've come to a new understanding of the word "holy."

This weekend, we were scheduled to go to Jerusalem and Bethlehem, but a terrorist incident in Jerusalem made us cancel the trip. It's disappointing, but on the other hand, it's very nice just having two days to relax. Actually, we are taking a little day tour tomorrow to some nearby sites, which should be fun.

In any case, I'm done with the first week of digging! My dad mentioned in an email that he probably would get frustrating with digging and was surprised at how much I liked it. I should mention: many times the dig is frustrating, besides being tiring. Particularly, when the ground is composed more of rocks than dirt, the digging is slow and nearly impossible. Sometimes while I'm resting in the afternoon, I get this maddening feeling that I'm still trying to scrape rocks into a bucket. Still, I know it's just part of the dig, and we manage to make progress. Seeing the change in ground level each day well as discovering new things (a giant wall in the middle of our square) makes the work very worthwhile and rewarding. Also, I have a particular fondness for keeping our digging level throughout the square. Perhaps it's letting some perfectionism shine through, but I find it very satisfying.

I find another unexpected positive when the digging grows tedious: I end up coming up with distractions, which usually means making up stories and going through music ("Singet, singet, singet, singet dem Herrn") and movies ("Let me bring you up to speed. My name is Wayne Campbell. I live in Aurora, Illinois, which is a suburb of Chicago. Excellent!) in my head. It's fun!

Today is Independence Day, which I keep forgetting. Although, the kibbutz did serve hot dogs for lunch. I don't really suspect a coincidence.