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June 19, 2006

old fashioned polemics

I found my new favourite retort today while reading Hulrych Zwingli ("The Defense of the Reformed Faith", 1523, art.18). Zwingli:
"At this point the papists drop a red herring [loose translation!] by saying, 'The mass has the name missa not in vain, for it is a Hebrew term missah which means a gift or a sacrifice. Hence the mass is said to be a sacrifice. My response: You wicked devil of mammon; how hard it is to get you to yield."
I think I'll save that one to use at the defence of my thesis. "You don't like my work?..."

Posted by j and b at 04:14 PM | Comments (1)

June 11, 2006

Ceilidh!

Josh and I have had a number of Scottish experiences since we moved here. Most recently we attended a ceilidh. A ceilidh (pronounced "kay-lee") is a Scottish country dance, rather like a square dance in that many of the dances are done in small groups or as one big group. Scottish children grow up learning each of these dances in school so they know each step and each dance by heart unlike others who can't even pronounce the names of the dances much less effect the steps with any kind of grace or panache. But in spite of my ignorance and, I have to confess, my inherent clumsiness, I had a blast. Our ceilidh band consisted of two instruments - a guitar and a fiddle - and a PA system that boosted the volume of music to fill the entire hall and sound well over the screams and shouts that, I discovered, go hand in hand with a good ceilidh. This particular evening there was plenty of shouting and screaming.
One of the favorite dances for every experienced ceilidh attender is called "Strip the Willow" which is much like the Virginia Reel. A friend of mine who is 6 months pregnant was told she should probably sit this one out...Each pair slowly works their way down the line of screaming and stomping participants, reeling around each guy (for the girl) or each girl (for the guy). It was during this dance - at a particularly hyper moment - that I found myself headed straight for the floor and, yes, was unable to break my fall. Fortunately I was able to return to an upright position unhurt, just in time to save myself from several hearty Scots, headed straight for me.
A ceilidh is a cultural experience not for the faint of heart. These Scots know how to party and how to party hard. The word on the street is that if one does not awake the morning after with bruises covering one's limbs it was certainly not a ceilidh worth attending. My aches and pains for days afterward affirmed that this one certainly was.

Posted by j and b at 09:24 PM | Comments (2)