Saints, Romans, Emperors

Posted on May 14, 2019 by Brian H. Gill

Quite a bit has changed since imperial engineers designed and built a bridge in Emerita Augusta, today’s Mérida.

The Pax Romana died with Marcus Aurelius.1 The Roman Empire kept going until around Isidore of Seville’s day.

The name Isidore started as a Greek phrase: “gift of [the goddess] Isis.” Maybe someone’s decided that since Isis is an ancient Egyptian deity, and Catholics remember Saints named Isidore, we’re Satan-worshiping pagans.

I’d like to think that’s unlikely, but exchanging Christmas gifts was classified as a “Satanical practice” and forbidden not all that long ago.2

There are at least three Saint Isidores, and Saint Isidora. They’re an assorted lot: a Roman naval officer, an obscure nun with an unflattering nickname, an archbishop and a farmer. Farm worker, actually, a hired hand on land owned by Juan de Vargas.

We recognize them as Saints because they acted like God’s grace mattered, practicing “heroic virtue.” (Catechism of the Catholic Church 828)

Isidore’s Choice

Isidore of Chios served in the Roman navy during the third century.

The Empire wasn’t enjoying good times.

Trouble had been brewing before Emperor Severus Alexander led an army to Sicula on the Rhine.

Alexander and his troops apparently had a difference of opinion about whether to attack or try bribing Germanic forces — which resulted in his abrupt death in March, 235.

My guess is that the emperor’s lenient attitude toward Christianity, and concerns that he might become a Christian, didn’t help. With Severus Alexander dead, the Roman army said Maximinus Thrax was Emperor. Part of the army, at any rate.

The announcement didn’t solve Rome’s problems.

Barbarians kept moving into Roman territories. The Cyprian Plague made economic woes worse. Folks occasionally started rebellions. Some of those became civil wars. Rome had 26 emperors, officially sanctioned and otherwise, during the next five decades.

Back to Roman naval officer Isidore.

He was suspected of Christian sympathies while Emperor Decius was defending Rome by stamping out Christianity. Trying to, anyway.

Isidore admitted his guilt, was executed on May 14, 251, and buried on a nearby Aegean island: Chios. Upwards of 17 centuries later, we still recognize May 14th as his feast day.

“The Monastery Sponge”

Saint Isidora was born, probably in or near the eastern Roman provinces, in the year 300 or thereabouts.

She joined the Tabenna Monastery in Egypt, spending her time doing the monastery’s dirtiest jobs. That earned her “the monastery sponge” as a nickname.

Sort of like Eastwood’s Dirty Harry character. And that’s another topic.

Isidora apparently took St. Paul’s advice in 1 Corinthians 18–19 to heart. That may explain both her lack of popularity in the monastery and dearth of documentation regarding her life.

I strongly suspect current events helped maintain her comparative anonymity.

She died before 365. We’re not sure when. Maybe while Constantius II, Constans I, and/or Vetranio was/were emperor. Or maybe Julian and/or Jovian.

The Roman Empire was recovering from the Thrax-to-Carinus/Numerian imperial brouhaha by that time.

Emperor Jovian, for example, died of natural causes. Officially. He’d eaten too many mushrooms with too much wine. Or maybe a faulty heating unit smothered him.

Ammianus Marcellinus — who survived the Julian, Jovian and Valens reigns — said that Jovian’s death, and the investigation that didn’t follow, were odd.

Edward “Decline and Fall” Gibbon, an 18th century English Whig, said the official version of Jovian’s death was right and that’s yet another topic.

Back in the fourth century, Rome’s imperial government became increasingly bureaucratic. Senators replaced their togas with nifty-looking silk outfits. Emperor Constantine ended the policy of blaming Christianity for imperial problems, allegedly got baptized just before dying — and didn’t, apparently, die because he was baptized.

I see making Christianity legal as a good idea. Outlawing everything except ‘official’ Christianity, not so much. We have Theodosius I to thank for that.3

An Archbishop

Isidore of Seville may be the most generally-famous St. Isidore. He was born in a city we call Cartagena. It’s been called Mastia, Qart Hadasht, Colonia Vrbs Iulia Nova Carthago and Cartago Spartaria.

A few millennia from now, it’ll probably have collected a few more monikers, and that’s yet again another topic.

His parents, Severianus and Theodora, were among the area’s upper crust.

Isidore became a scholar and, for three decades, archbishop of Seville.

That city’s been called Hisbaal, Tartessos, Hispal and Gilipolis, and I’m wandering off-topic. Again.

Archbishop Isidore died in 636, was recognized as a Saint in 653, and is famous as a scholar who helped organize and preserve part of the Roman world’s knowledge.

He’s the patron Saint of the Internet, computer and technicians, programmers and students. That’s what Pope John Paul II said in 1997. I don’t have a problem with St. John Paul II’s decision, but apparently some Catholics do.

I can see their point, sort of. The Pope didn’t go through the usual bureaucratic channels before announcing his decision, John Paul II was Pope after Vatican II, the Internet is newfangled technology, and that’s still another topic. Topics.4

A Hired Hand

St. Isidor the Farmer, patron Saint of farmers, is ‘the’ St. Isidore for folks around here. His feast day is May 15.

He’s also called San Isidro Labrador and St. Isidor Agricola.

English-language resources I’ve seen often call him “Isidor the Laborer.”5

Maybe that’s because the word “Labrador” in “San Isidro Labrador” sounds like my language’s “laborer.”

It could be worse.

Folks could have translated “San Isidro Labrador” as “Isidore the Labrador Retriever,” and that’s — what else? — even more topics.

My father-in-law talked about ‘our’ St. Isidore, families and Jesus, back in 2011. I’ll post that in a few minutes. Today, anyway.

Posts that aren’t completely unrelated:

1 Rome’s heyday, and after:

2 Names and attitudes:

3 Saints and emperors:

4 A Saint and cities:

5 ‘Our’ St. Isidore:

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Easter Sunday Bombings

Posted on April 27, 2019 by Brian H. Gill

Some folks in Sri Lanka were at church this Easter morning.

Others were at luxury hotels, starting another day’s work or enjoying breakfast.

About 250 didn’t return home. Their deaths were headline news for the next 24 hours:

  • “40 dead as explosions rock churches, hotels in Sri Lanka: Report”
    ABC News
  • “Cardinal Dolan urges parishioners to stay hopeful after Sri Lanka bombings”
    New York Post
  • “Sri Lanka bombings: At least 207 people killed by explosions in Sri Lanka capital of Colombo, churches and hotels targeted — live updates”
    CBS News
  • “Sri Lanka church, hotel massacre victims include TV chef, mother and son, Americans”
    Fox News

Apart from its location and climate, I hadn’t known much about Sri Lanka before this week’s news.

What follows is part of what I’ve found.

Sri Lanka


(From Astronomyinertia, via Wikimedia Commons, used w/o permission.)

Folks have been living on Sri Lanka for upwards of a hundred thousand years. Its one of those places folks in my part of the world have called ‘a tropical paradise.’

At least some of them were probably ancestors of today’s Vedda.

Robert Knox, a 17th century Englishman, called them “wild men” — par for the course in those days. I’m pretty sure they predate Prince Vijaya, although the Mahavamsa says they’re his descendants. That they’re related seems likely enough.

The Mahavamsa and other chronicles say Prince Vijaya led the Sinhalese people to Sri Lanka, establishing the island’s first kingdom. Scholars, Western ones at any rate, often say he’s legendary; so maybe his Kingdom of Upatissa Nuwara is, too.

Or maybe one of Vijaya’s ministers founded the city of Anuradhagama/Anuradhapura, laying groundwork for the not-quite-so-legendary Anuradhapura Kingdom.

King Pandukabhaya lived in Aristotle’s day, give or take a decade or so. He reorganized Sri Lankan government, resolved conflicts between locals and Sinhalese, and is remembered as a good king.1

Rulers and Stupas

Around the time Wu of Jin unified China and Diocletian retired as emperor — no small feat in the third and fourth century — Mahasena of Anuradhapura was running Sri Lanka.

Mahasena tried suppressing Theravada Buddhism. Unsuccessfully. Manhesena’s father, Gothabhaya, had done pretty much the same thing when he was king.

Gothabhaya was the surviving member of a trio who’d seized power from Vijaya Kumara.

Gothabhaya’s sons, Jetthatissa and Mahasena, inherited the throne. Mahasena lived longer, and built the Jethavana stupa. Or maybe it’s the Jethawana stupa.2 Transliterating from another language’s writing system is tricky.

He didn’t lay the bricks himself, of course. Other folks did the hands-on work and his son finished the project. It was the third highest structure in the world in its day.

Mahasena wasn’t Sri Lanka’s first king, or the last. His Ruwanwelisaya Stupa has been better-maintained, and that’s another topic.3

Names

Sri Lanka was “British Ceylon” on maps made in my part of the world before 1948.

It was the “Dominion of Ceylon” for a few decades, and I’m getting ahead of the story.

Leonardo da Vinci was painting the Mona Lisa when Portuguese traders came to Sri Lanka. They got involved in the island’s politics when royal coup in one of the kingdoms, Kotte, threatened their cinnamon trade.

When the dust settled, much of the island was part of a European empire. Portugal held the Kingdom of Kotte — one of the island’s many kingdoms, roughly where Sri Lanka’s Northwestern, Western and Southern Provinces are today.

That let Kotte’s tributary state, Kandy, become independent. Or at least semi-independent. Portuguese-held Kotte was still a problem, though, so Kandy asked the Dutch government for help.

It was an effective ploy. Portugal lost control of its part of the island, Kandy kept at least some of its turf, and Dutch Ceylon lasted until the British moved in. British Ceylon lasted until 1948, and I talked about that earlier.

“Ceylon” is what happened when Sanskrit’s “island of the Sinhala people” got passed along through Pali, Persian and Arabic before getting to Portuguese and English.

Can’t say that I blame a new administration for changing their island’s name to Sri Lanka in the 1972 constitution.4

Legends, Lore and Myths

The “lanka” in Sri Lanka started as a Tamil word meaning “to shine” or “to glitter.”

Or maybe it’s a regional word for “island.”

Wherever the name comes from, Lanka’s story is very old.

In Ramayana, Vishwakarma made Lanka for Kubera, the Lord of Wealth.

Then Kubera’s stepbrother Ravana flew in on the Monara, and the plot thickens.

I’ve read that the Ramayana is mythological. I can see why.

On the other hand, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Ramayana is a mix of myth, history and literary embellishment; a south Asian analog to Homer’s Iliad. (May 12, 2018)

The Ramayana dates back at least a dozen centuries, probably longer. My guess is that parts of it are based on lore passed along by Vedda, Tamil, and everyone else who has called Lanka home.5

“Complicated” barely begins to describe it.

“Grief and Sorrow”


(From Vatican News, used w/o permission.)
(Broken statue at St Anthony’s Shrine in Colombo.)

“Pope Francis laments Easter Sunday attacks in Sri Lanka”
Devin Watkins, Vatican News (April 21, 2019)

“‘…The Holy Father said the multiple attacks on churches and hotels around Sri Lanka ‘have wrought grief and sorrow’.

“I entrust to the Lord all those who have tragically perished,’ he said, ‘and I pray for the injured and all those who suffer as a result of this tragic event.’…

“…[Archbishop of Colombo] Cardinal Ranjith said, ‘I condemn – to the utmost of my capacity – this act that has caused so much death and suffering to the people.’

“He also called on Sri Lanka’s government to hold ‘a very impartial, strong inquiry and find out who is responsible behind these acts’….”)

Most folks killed on Easter Sunday were Sri Lankans. Some were at work, like Shantha, Sanjeewani, Ibrahim and Nisthar. Some were celebrating Easter with their families.

Bennington Joseph, Subramaniam Arumugam Chandrika, Bevon, Cleavon and Avon were at St Anthony’s.

Rangana Fernando, Danadiri, Biola, Leona and Seth died at St Sebastian’s.

Ramesh Raju saved dozens of lives when he delayed one of the suicide bombers at Zion Evangelical Church.

Two victims were in or near a guest house near the National Zoo. Three were police officers who were searching suspects’ homes in a Dematagoda housing complex.6

I didn’t know any of the victims. My home is about as far from Sri Lanka as you can get and still be on Earth. A few were celebrities or professionals, but most were ‘just ordinary people.’ Why should I care about them?

Neighbors

There’s the emotional angle, of course; and that’s okay. Feelings are part of being human. Emotions connect “the life of the senses and the life of the mind.” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1763–1766)

I felt surprise, sadness, anger and more after hearing news about the Easter attacks in Sri Lanka.

Apart from surprise, I’m still experiencing the emotions.

Again, that’s okay.

Emotions happen. By themselves, they aren’t good or bad. They’re just ‘there.’ (Catechism, 1767)

What I decide to do, how I respond to the feelings, that matters. Choosing a good response is easier when my feelings and my reason are in sync. But even if they’re not, I’m still expected to think. (Catechism, 1765, 1767–1769, 1777–1782)

Deciding how to see events and people in Sri Lanka depends partly on how seriously I take what Jesus said.

Our Lord boiled “The whole law and the prophets” down to a few simple rules. I should love God, love my neighbor — and see everyone as my neighbor. No exceptions. (Matthew 5:43–44, 22:36–40; Mark 12:28–31; Luke 6:31, 10:25–27, 29–37; Catechism, 1789)

The ‘Good Samaritan’ parable in Luke 10:29–37 lacks the shock value it did two millennia back, and that’s yet another topic. (February 1, 2017)

Churches and Hotels


(From BBC News, via Reuters, used w/o permission.)
(“Guards outside St Anthony’s Shrine in the Kochchikade area of Colombo, where one of the explosions occurred”
(BBC News))

Two of the three churches hit being Catholic got my attention, too.

I don’t think St. Anthony’s, St. Sebasti’s and the Zion Evangelical Church were picked at random. Whoever planned these attacks probably had religion in mind, since Easter mornings are generally busy times at Christian churches.

But the other three targets were high-end hotels or luxury resorts.

Motives

All six Easter morning targets arguably represented foreign occupation in Sri Lanka. Mix rabid religion and cultural chauvinism, and you’ve got claims like this:

“…IS said online that it had ‘targeted nationals of the crusader alliance [anti-IS US-led coalition] and Christians in Sri Lanka’….”
(BBC News (April 24, 2019))

It’s likely that the Easter Sunday suicide bombers had outside help.

Or maybe someone in Sri Lanka was unusually competent at planning and carrying out mass murder on this scale.

The odds are pretty good that the attacks had a religious angle. That’s assuming that an like Sri Lanka’s Tamil Eelam isn’t responsible.7

I’d be surprised, pleasantly, if nobody’s responded to the Easter Sunday attack by saying “Islam is evil.”

I don’t see the situation that way.

Recognizing and respecting the many ways folks have been seeking truth is part of being Catholic. (Catechism, 839–845)

Some self-identified Muslims have done very bad things, apparently with faith-based motives. But I’m pretty sure that most Muslims aren’t terrorists.

And that most Christians, even those of us living in America, don’t see the Ku Klux Klan as ‘good guys.’

Responses

I’m relieved to see that Sri Lanka’s government is acknowledging that some officials knew an attack was likely, and didn’t act properly.

‘Let not your left hand know’ makes sense in a particular context.

But not when the ‘right hand’ is supposed to be kept in the loop.8

I’m not sure what to think about the Sri Lankan government’s blocking of social media after the attacks.

Maybe some official thought keeping folks from sharing information was a good idea.

Maybe it really did make sense, given the circumstances.

My guess is that we’re in for a long and loud discussion of social media, freedom of speech, and who gets to decide what ‘the masses’ see. The good news is that at least a few folks seem to be thinking about the issues. Not just reacting:

Choices

Nothing I do or say will change what has happened. That’s part of being human.

So is deciding what I do in my “now.”

And trying to do what’s right, which isn’t necessarily what’s easy.

It’s not that human nature, or this world, is rotten to the core.

We were made in the image of God and still are. We, and our world are still “very good.” We’ve been living with consequences of making a choice the first of us made. But we aren’t doomed to make bad decisions. What we do is our choice. (Genesis 1:27–31; Catechism, 295-301, 396–406, 1701–1709, 1730)

Loving my neighbor is easier when my neighbor is being neighborly. But it’s a good idea, no matter what my neighbor has done.

Acting with justice and mercy are important, too. (Catechism, 1805, 1829, 1861, 1991–2011)

I’ve talked about that before:

1 Sri Lanka, background:

2 Rulers and beliefs:

3 Eras and monuments:

4 Governments:

5 Sri Lanka, remembered:

6 Places and people:

7 News, mostly:

8 Blunders:

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Jesus Didn’t Stay Dead

Posted on April 21, 2019 by Brian H. Gill

We relive events from Maundy Thursday to Easter Sunday in close to real time.

Our Lord was arrested Thursday night. The Sanhedrin, Pilate and Herod had questioned Jesus by Friday morning.

I get the impression that none of Jerusalem’s authorities wanted to be the one who passed judgment on the Nazarene preacher. The Sanhedrin and Pilate worried about pubic opinion and our Lord’s popularity. (April 19, 2019)

Herod seemed disappointed that Jesus didn’t entertain him, and that’s another topic.

Choices

Pilate lost the ‘hot potato’ game.

I’ll give him credit for trying to release our Lord by offering folks the choice of freeing Jesus or Barabbas.

That didn’t work. Jerusalem’s traditional leaders had influence, and used it.

“The chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowds to ask for Barabbas but to destroy Jesus.
“The governor said to them in reply, ‘Which of the two do you want me to release to you?’ They answered, ‘Barabbas!'”
(Matthew 27:20–21)

Death and Burial

By Friday evening, Jesus was dead.

Joseph of Arimathea took responsibility for burying our Lord. He put the body in his newly-cut tomb.

There wasn’t time for anything fancy. Not so close to the Sabbath.

Several women who had been with Jesus kept an eye on Joseph and our Lord’s body, making sure they’d remember where he’d been interred.

When they returned, after the Sabbath, finding the tomb was easy enough.

Our Lord’s body was another matter. The four Gospels describe what happened, but differ in details. I’m not surprised. None of the Bible was written from a contemporary Western viewpoint, and that’s another topic.

Besides, the women and the surviving 11 Apostles had experienced traumatic events and were in for more shocks.

Disbelief

All four accounts1 agree that our Lord’s body was missing.

Matthew, Mark and Luke place at least one angel at the scene.

John says that Mary of Magdala saw that the stone was rolled away and ran back to collect two Apostles before returning.

Luke has the women entering the tomb and finding no body.

“While they were puzzling over this, behold, two men in dazzling garments appeared to them.
“They were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground. They said to them, ‘Why do you seek the living one among the dead?
“He is not here, but he has been raised. Remember what he said to you while he was still in Galilee,
“that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners and be crucified, and rise on the third day.”
“And they remembered his words.
“Then they returned from the tomb and announced all these things to the eleven and to all the others.”
(Luke 24:4–9)

The guys didn’t believe them. Peter ran to the tomb. He found burial cloths and no body.

Jesus eventually convinced Peter and the rest that he was alive. Not a ghost. Really alive.

Witnesses

At a final meeting with the surviving 11 Apostles, they asked Jesus if this was when he was going to “restore the kingdom of Israel.” (Acts 1:6)

Some Christians have been wondering pretty much the same thing ever since.

Our Lord replied that they didn’t need to have that information.

That’s still the case. Which doesn’t keep some from jumping on the latest Rapture bandwagon. And that’s yet another topic. (December 7, 2018)

Then Jesus gave us standing orders — and left. It took two angels to get the “Men of Galilee” back on task.

“He answered them, ‘It is not for you to know the times or seasons that the Father has established by his own authority.
“But you will receive power when the holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.’
“While they were looking intently at the sky as he was going, suddenly two men dressed in white garments stood beside them.
“They said, ‘Men of Galilee, why are you standing there looking at the sky? This Jesus who has been taken up from you into heaven will return in the same way as you have seen him going into heaven.'”
(Acts 1:7–11)

Passing Along the Best News Ever

Two millennia later, we’re still passing along the best news humanity’s ever had.

Jesus is the Son of God. Our Lord died, and then stopped being dead. (John 1:14, 3:17; Acts 2:24; Catechism of the Catholic Church, 232–260, 456–478, 631–655)

God loves us. All of us. Each of us. And wants to adopt us. (Romans 8:15; Ephesians 1:3–5; Peter 2:3–4; Catechism, 1–3, 27–30, 52, 1825, 1996)

I took God up on the adoption offer. Acting like I accept the family values make sense. (James 2:17–19; Catechism, 1814–1816)

I should love God and my neighbors. All my neighbors. Everyone in the world. No exceptions. (Matthew 5:43–44, 22:36–40; Mark 12:28–31; Luke 6:31 10:25–27, 29–37; Catechism, 1789)

It’s simple, and incredibly hard to do.

And that’s yet again another topic. Topics:

This post’s first picture is Piero della Francesca’s “Piero della Francesca – Resurrezione.”

The fresco was made in the 1460s. It’s in the Museo Civico di Sansepolcro, Arezzo, Italy.

1 Our Lord’s death and resurrection:

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Good Friday

Posted on April 19, 2019 by Brian H. Gill

Our Lord’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem was like a ticker tape parade. The original one, in 1886, an impromptu celebration.

Jesus had grassroots support that few celebrities or politicos achieve. Our Lord could have written his own ticket. All he had to do was keep that enthusiasm going.

Next thing we read in Luke’s account is our Lord saying that something awful will happen to Jerusalem. That’s in Luke 19:41–44.

That’s a bit odd, coming from someone riding the crest of popularity’s wave.

But doom and gloom play well to some audiences, and that’s another topic.

Luke’s next stop is Jesus going berserk in the temple area. Or, as John put it, exhibiting impressive zeal.

“He made a whip out of cords and drove them all out of the temple area, with the sheep and oxen, and spilled the coins of the money-changers and overturned their tables,
“and to those who sold doves he said, ‘Take these out of here, and stop making my Father’s house a marketplace.’
“His disciples recalled the words of scripture, ‘Zeal for your house will consume me.'”
(John 2:13-17)

I don’t see a problem with what Jesus did. I think he’s the Son of God, and was exercising legitimate authority. Sort of like the boss seeing that someone set up a BYOB bar, and telling them to get back to work.

I can also see the cleansing of the temple as several criminal offenses. These days, they’d probably include disturbing the peace, vandalism and interference with commerce by threats or violence.

The Powers that Be

Pharisees and Sadducees didn’t agree on Hellenization, the Torah and Mosaic Laws.

They didn’t see liturgy the same way either.

But I’m pretty sure they liked being among the powers that be.

They weren’t the only major players.

Judea was a Roman province in the first century. Pontius Pilate was nominally in charge. He was one of the equites, sort of like medieval knights; above plebeians on Rome’s ladder but below senators. (November 26, 2017)

Pilate was in an unenviable position. Judea was a a vital and vulnerable link in the Rome-Egypt trade route.1

Being put in charge of a strategically important and volatile province was probably a high honor. If he kept the route open, sent taxes back to Rome, and didn’t use too many resources doing it.

The Pharisees and other folks in the Sanhedrin had their own concerns.

“So the chief priests and the Pharisees convened the Sanhedrin and said, ‘What are we going to do? This man is performing many signs.
“If we leave him alone, all will believe in him, and the Romans will come and take away both our land and our nation.'”
(John 11:51:8)

No wonder the Pharisees and Sadducees tried saddling Pilate with their Jesus problem. Pilate tried passing the buck to Herod. Who sent the troublemaker back to Pilate.

Viewpoints

I’ve read that Pilate’s interview with Jesus was ‘circuitous’ or ‘ambiguous.’ It arguably is, by contemporary American standards.

I’ll give Pilate credit for asking our Lord reasonable questions.

Reasonable from his viewpoint. Folks aren’t all alike. Neither are cultures.

On the other hand, we’re all alike. Each of us has “the same nature and the same origin.” Differences exist. This is a good thing, or should be. (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 814, 1934–1938, 1957)

I see our Lord’s part of that interview as reasonable, too. That’s partly because I’m living about two millennia later, with access to what some of the world’s best minds have said about our Lord’s life and death. (November 26, 2017)

Trial by Opinion Poll

I don’t know why Pilate washed his hands, literally and figuratively, turning the trial of Jesus into a referendum. Or opinion poll.

“The chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowds to ask for Barabbas but to destroy Jesus.
“The governor said to them in reply, ‘Which of the two do you want me to release to you?’ They answered, ‘Barabbas!’
“Pilate said to them, ‘Then what shall I do with Jesus called Messiah?’ They all said, ‘Let him be crucified!’
“But he said, ‘Why? What evil has he done?’ They only shouted the louder, ‘Let him be crucified!’
“When Pilate saw that he was not succeeding at all, but that a riot was breaking out instead, he took water and washed his hands in the sight of the crowd, saying, ‘I am innocent of this man’s blood. Look to it yourselves.'”
(Matthew 17:20–24)

That is not how judicial proceedings should work. Not America’s, Imperial Rome’s, or any other. (June 1, 2018; March 19, 2018; February 5, 2017)

Torture, Humiliation and Death


(From “On the Physical Death of Jesus Christ,” used w/o permission.)

I’m not sure why folks who believe Jesus is God occasionally balk at thinking he’s also human. Maybe it didn’t seem sufficiently ‘spiritual.’ (April 21, 2018)

Maybe that’s understandable.

Believing that a human could be killed is one thing. Folks die every day.

Believing that someone who actually was the Son of God could die?

That’s not so easy.

But believing that our Lord died comes with being Catholic. (Catechism, 599)

So does accepting Jesus as the Son of God, human and divine. (John 1:14; Catechism, 285, 456–478, 517)

I don’t know how Jesus can be human and divine. Not on an operational level. I don’t understand how the Trinity works either. (March 12, 2017)

Getting back to that first Good Friday.

After a dubiously-legal trial, Jesus was tortured, humiliated and nailed to a cross on Golgotha. Between two criminals.

Folks in Jerusalem didn’t want dead bodies hanging around. Not with Passover coming. Someone asked Pilate to expedite the process.

“So the soldiers came and broke the legs of the first and then of the other one who was crucified with Jesus.
“But when they came to Jesus and saw that he was already dead, they did not break his legs,
“but one soldier thrust his lance into his side, and immediately blood and water flowed out.”
(John 19:32–34)

Jesus was dead.2 With the physical, mental and emotional stress he’d endured, it’s almost a wonder he lasted as long as he did, and that’s yet another topic.

For anyone else, that would have been the end. But Jesus isn’t anyone else.

I’ve said that before:

1 Background:

2 Dead? Dead:

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Fukushima Cleanup: Slow Progress

Posted on April 16, 2019 by Brian H. Gill

A tsunami flooded the Fukushima-Daiichi nuclear power plant eight years ago.

Fires, explosions and meltdowns followed.

Folks living within 20 kilometers were told to leave the area.

Radiation levels are dropping. A few folks are moving back. Clearing debris and removing radioactive fuel rods is taking more time than expected.

Yesterday, April 15, 2019, engineers started removing fuel rods from Fukushima Daiichi Unit 3’s storage pool. Unit 3 is one of six reactors hit by a tsunami in 2011.

TEPCO says they’ll finish the Unit 3 job by April of 2021.1

By the time I’d finished writing about the cleanup, I’d talked about natural law, ancient history, and what Thomas Aquinas said about making sense.

Rules and Principles

Loving God and my neighbor, seeing everyone as my neighbor and treat others the way I’d like them to treat me makes sense. (Matthew 5:43–44, 22:36–40; Mark 12:28–31; Luke 6:31, 10:25–37; Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1789)

That hasn’t changed, and won’t.

Rules we make up are another matter. Sometimes they work. Sometimes they don’t. When they no longer apply to our circumstances, it’s time to change them. The same goes when they’re not in line with natural law: unchanging ethical principles like ‘love your neighbor.’ (Catechism, 1954–1960)

Respect for legitimate authority is another one of those principles. Ideally, folks in authority would be consistently wise, just and all the rest.

We don’t live in an ideal world. Sometimes the king, president, CEO or other boss is incompetent or worse. That’s why unthinking obedience is a bad idea. None of us is above the natural law, and we’re all expected to use our brains. (Catechism, 1776–1782, 1897–1917, 2155, 2242–2243, 2267, 2313, 2414)

The Fukushima-Daiichi Disaster, Eight Years Later


(From AFP, via BBC News, used w/o permission.)
(“Fuel will be lifted from the crippled reactor and taken away for storage elsewhere”
(BBC News))

“Fukushima: Japan begins removal of nuclear fuel from damaged reactor”
BBC News (April 15, 2019)

“The operator of Japan’s Fukushima nuclear plant has begun removing nuclear fuel from one of the reactors that melted down after the devastating 2011 earthquake and tsunami.

“Remotely controlled equipment is lifting fuel rods from a storage pool inside reactor number three.

“The delicate work at the contaminated site is expected to take two years….”

I suspect that we know more about the Chernyobyl nuclear disaster than the Fukushima-Daiichi one. Mostly because Chernobyl happened about 33 years back.

It’s only been eight years and a month since the Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami. That was the biggest earthquake recorded in Japan, and the fourth most powerful since 1900. Top place goes to the 1960 Valdivia quake.2

That doesn’t mean that earthquakes were comparatively mild until wireless telegraphy and heavier-than-air flight offended Mother Nature.

Maybe someone’s blamed Marconi and the Wright Brothers for post-1900s disasters. But not recently, I suspect.

Conspiracy theorists and angst merchants use other hot buttons these days, and that’s another topic.

History, Records, and Estimates

We’ve got records for earthquakes going back for millennia.

Some of them may have been more powerful than the Tōhoku or Valdivia events. We don’t know exactly how powerful, since somewhat-precise seismometers weren’t developed until around 1900.

We can make educated guesses about earlier events, based on written records and physical evidence. We’re getting better at finding and analyzing both.

My guess is that some ancient disasters didn’t get recorded. Not in writing.

Written records aren’t made unless at least a few survivors were close enough to be eyewitnesses. And have time to write down what happened, or talk with someone who’s literate and interested.

A Minoan Digression

The Minoan/Thera eruption, roughly three and a half millennia back, may be what’s behind tales that inspired Plato’s Atlantis.

Minoan civilization was on Crete about 110 kilometers, 68 miles, south of Thera. Tsunamis from event were between 35 and 150 meters, 115 and 492 feet, high when the washed over Crete’s northern coast.

At least some Minoans were most likely abroad when Thera exploded. Someone rebuilt a scaled-down version of Minoan culture that lasted for centuries.

We’re pretty sure Linear A, a writing system that’s apparently unrelated to anything else, is in the Minoan language.

We’ve got the equivalent of about two typewritten pages of Linear A. Maybe it includes a record of the “violent earthquakes and floods … a single day and night of misfortune” Plato describes. (May 26, 2017)

Another mostly-unrecorded disaster is the Late Bronze Age collapse, a few centuries after Thera exploded and before Plato’s day.3 Survivors returned to the Aegean-Egypt corridor rebuilt, eventually, but I suspect a great many records were lost. (November 3, 2017)

Bad News

The Fukushima nuclear plant disaster was bad news, but comparatively minor compared to the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake.

The quake and tsunami killed nearly 16,000 folks, left over 6,000 injured and about 2,500 missing.

The Fukushima-Daiichi power plant disaster killed or will kill between a handful and hundreds of folks. Maybe 1,600.

Death toll numbers depend on who’s talking. Also on whether they’re looking at folks who were killed in the incident, died later, or may die over the next few decades.

About 37 folks were injured. Maybe more. We’re more certain about how many were relocated: 160,000.

Speculation and Decisions

A 2017 risk analysis said that the evacuation and relocation was unnecessary and killed 1,600 refugees.

Maybe so. Folks at the Universities of Bristol, Manchester and Warwick — six and a half years later — had a Monday morning quarterback’s advantage.

Their scholarly analysis will probably help fine-tune procedures for handling future disasters.4

But even assuming that the academics were right, I don’t feel like writing a screed aimed at local and regional authorities.

My guess is that emergency responders and folks in charge had only a little more information than the rest of us. They’d have known that a tsunami had hit, and that there’d been an explosion at a nuclear power plant.

In their position, maybe I’d have started getting folks away from the area before experts had time for a thorough analysis.

Or maybe I’d have waited until after official investigators arrived, studied the situation and made a preliminary report.

That’d likely be after cleanup crews plowed paths through what was left of the city. And cleared space for a helicopter to land. Roads between cities wouldn’t have been particularly passable.

Then, if the experts said that radiation levels were off the chart and evacuation should have started immediately, I’d start looking for a good lawyer.

Or, if I’d gotten a lethal dose, put my affairs in order.

Official Estimates

(From Shigeru23, via Wikimedia Commons, used w/o permission.)
(A – Plant building, B – Tsunami’s peak height, C – Ground level of site, D – Average sea level, E – Seawall. Fukushima Unit 1 diagram.)

The good news is that TEPCO’s Fukushima power plant was mostly above average sea level and had a seawall.

The not-so-good news is that the seawall was nowhere near high enough to stop the 2011 tsunami. I’m not sure why so many of the plant’s backup generators were housed in basements.

And accessible from spots low enough to let seawater from the tsunami flood them.

Another blank patch in my knowledge is why TEPCO executives ordered an in-house study of tsunami risks. And ignored the results.

The study said that 10.2 meter tsunamis were possible, said that such a wave would flood key parts of the plant. In 2008, the execs said that waves 10.2 meters tall wouldn’t happen. In 2011, a wave at least 12 meters high arrived.

Maybe they didn’t feel like acknowledging that an official maximum wave height of 5.6 meters, reported in 2004, was overly-optimistic.

TEPCO’s decision-makers eventually started admitting that they’d lied about inspections and repairs. Many government officials didn’t come out looking much better.5

I figure most folks have an inner Monday morning quarterback. I certainly do. With my background and attitudes, I might feel that the TEPCO executives and government officials were incompetent, greedy, stupid, or all of the above.

But I won’t claim that the Fukushima debacle shows that regulations never work or decide that nuclear power is evil. Or dismiss disasters that don’t support my views as fake news.

Or something even less reasonable.

(Slow) Recovery


(From AFP, via BBC News, used w/o permission.)
(“Fuel from reactor four at the Fukushima Daiichi power plant was removed in 2014”
(BBC News))

Eight years after the disaster, radiation levels are lower in towns like Okuma. Folks are being allowed to move back.

Some are returning to their homes. Many or most of the town’s former residents probably won’t.

Can’t say that I blame folks for being cautious about official assurances.

Assertions encouraged Japan’s government to showcase their new and improved safety standards arguably haven’t helped boost confidence.6

It’s a plausible claim. Tokyo’s hosting the 2020 Summer Olympics. I’d like to think that embarrassment, if nothing else, from a now-public list of remarkably dicey decisions would encourage good sense. And that’s almost another topic.

Using Our Brains


(From WiNG, via Wikimedia Commons, used w/o permission.)

No technology is absolutely “safe.”

Even fire, something we’ve used for maybe a million years, can cause damage. All it takes is someone ignoring or forgetting what we’ve learned.

St. Thomas Aquinas had a few words to say about living in a world where we can get hurt, and who’s to blame for falling into a fire. Quite a few, actually:

“In the words of Augustine (Super. Gen. contr. Manich. i): ‘If an unskilled person enters the workshop of an artificer he sees in it many appliances of which he does not understand the use, and which, if he is a foolish fellow, he considers unnecessary. Moreover, should he carelessly fall into the fire, or wound himself with a sharp-edged tool, he is under the impression that many of the things there are hurtful; whereas the craftsman, knowing their use, laughs at his folly. And thus some people presume to find fault with many things in this world, through not seeing the reasons for their existence. For though not required for the furnishing of our house, these things are necessary for the perfection of the universe.’ And, since man before he sinned would have used the things of this world conformably to the order designed, poisonous animals would not have injured him.”
(“The Summa Theologica,” First Part, Question 72; St. Thomas Aquinas [emphasis mine])

“…Now action is properly ascribed, not to the instrument, but to the principal agent, as building is ascribed to the builder, not to his tools. Hence it is evident that use is, properly speaking, an act of the will….”
(“The Summa Theologica,” First Part of the Second Part, Question 16, Article 1; St. Thomas Aquinas)
(translated by Fathers of the English Dominican Province (Benziger Bros. edition, 1947))

I think St. Thomas Aquinas was right. Stumbling around a workshop, falling in the fire or getting cut isn’t the tech’s fault. That’s what happens when we don’t pay attention or use our brains. I’ve said that before. (February 10, 2017)

We don’t live in an ideal world. Unthinking obedience is a bad idea. No king, president, or other boss, is above the natural law. We’re supposed to use our brains. (Catechism, 1778, 1902, 1954–1960, 2155, 2242–2243, 2267, 2313, 2414)

More, mostly technology and making sense:

1 Eight years later:

2 Earthquakes and disasters:

3 History and lore:

4 Looking back:

5 Admissions and image:

6 Cleanup and controversy:

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