Eschew Obfuscation.

[In the continuing saga of Sisera and Jael, the Pilgrim has further discovered instances citing Jael as one of the Judges, Sisera as slaying Jael with a tent-peg, and Jael's wife being the one to so rudely assault Sisera.]

The Pilgrim had a very enjoyable time at last week's Elaine Pagels/Karen King talk about the Gospel of Judas. While neither the raw data nor their "take" on the materials was particularly novel -- and really, folks, the Pilgrim would be in greater trouble than she already is, had that been the case -- their engaging way of "teaching" the subject and the audience's interaction with it were both instructive. (Of course, the eminently enjoyable company of Dr. King's successor-once-removed at Occidental -- "once removed" by way of yet another impressive scholar -- only enhanced the experience!)

Coming, as it were, in the aftermath of another round of paper-grading, however, the Pilgrim was particularly impressed by what the lecturing ladies didn't say -- or rather, the linguistic restraint they exercised in their presentation: Less than five words of Latin made an appearance during the 90 minutes of lecture and Q&A;, termini technici remained blissfully absent, biblical and theological slang-terms never reared their ugly heads -- a refreshing change of pace from the inevitable handful of student papers that equate obfuscation with erudition.

The Pilgrim is nevertheless rather sympathetic to the exhibitionists, the circumlocutors and the buzzword bingo players: Raised in a context where teachers instructed elementary school students that the "elegant" sentence had "a main sentence and at least two side-sentences," the Pilgrim made it to her senior year in college before a merciful faculty member took a red pen to her baroque creations. After the requisite shock, the inevitable huffing and puffing at the barbaric nature of American academia, and the dawning realization that anything worth saying is worth saying simply, the Pilgrim began the long process of stripping her prose of Germanic stucco.

Six words of guidance to the similarly inclined writer, courtesy of George Orwell from his well-known essay, Politics and the English Language:

1. Never use a metaphor, simile, or other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print.
2. Never use a long word where a short one will do.
3. If it is possible to cut a word out, always cut it out.
4. Never use the passive where you can use the active.
5. Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word, or a jargon word if you can think of an everyday English equivalent.
6. Break any of these rules sooner than say anything outright barbarous

Or, in the words of the bumper sticker -- Eschew obfuscation, espouse elucidation! ;)

Speak of the Devils ...

[The Pilgrim -- in grading final exams from a certain exegesis course -- is surprised to learn that Sisera and Jael were "two brothers."]

Stephen C. Carlson -- whose blog, unlike yours truly's, apparently didn't suffer a seasonal hiatus -- is also Duke-bound.

Jolly good! And they said that Bloggers need not apply ...

The Pilgrim 2.0

Yes indeedy. On August 24, 2007, the Pilgrim will begin a Ph.D. program in Christianity in Antiquity under the mentorship of Dr. Elizabeth Clark at Duke University.

(After all these months, it's hard to believe I'm finally done with this process.)

*gulp*

The Pilgrim has just been informed that one of the bigger/more "up and coming" names in the field has apparently been calling one of her recommenders to make inquiries about her.

It might not be too indelicate to say that the Pilgrim is, in fact, pissing her pants.

Rules for Clients/Tips for Lawyers

[The Pilgrim extends a tip o' the nip to The Gaping Void, courtesy of whose fine site she first discovered aforementioned rules and tips.]

The non-billable hour has put together a delightful manifesto for clients, and an equally insightful one for lawyers. Since most of this blog's five readers fall more into the former than the latter category, I figured I would post the former and link to the latter:

15 Rules for Clients:

You are a client. You need a lawyer. Here are 15 rules (guidelines, actually) that may help you find and understand your lawyer:

1. You have wants. You have needs. Focus on the needs first. Wants are bonus.

2. If you are seeing a lawyer because your dispute is “not about the money, but about the principle of the thing” don’t be surprised if your lawyer runs away. You can never be satisfied. Also, it’s really about the money.

3. Your case/matter is the most important thing happening to you right now. It is not the most important thing happening to your lawyer right now. It may not even be in his top ten.

4. If you think your lawyer is trying to kill your deal, remember this: though there may only be a “one percent” chance your deal will go bad, your lawyer sees that “one percent” over and over again. She’s looking out for you. She cares about you and your business. She also doesn’t want her malpractice premiums to go up.

5. You want to buy results, not time. Most lawyers sell time, not results. Make sure you both understand the difference before your first bill arrives. You will certainly understand the difference after.

6. If you want to find a lawyer who sells results, look hard. There are a few of them out there. They are the ones who can still smile because they get to see their children before 9:00 at night.

7. Big firm lawyers are not more efficient. Or smarter. Or cheaper. They are certainly not cheaper.

8. Make sure your lawyer understands your business. If your lawyer doesn’t understand your business, find out if he’s going to learn about it on his time, or yours.

9. You are your lawyer’s boss. You are not her only boss. She has hundreds of other bosses too. Each one of them thinks their matter is more important than yours.

10. How messy is your lawyer’s desk? When they bill you for thirty minutes of “file review,” how much of that time was spent looking for your file?

11. When you call a lawyer for the first time, how long does it take for him to return your calls? After you hire that lawyer, expect it to take at least three times as long. Same goes for e-mails.

12. Does your lawyer have reputation for being a “bulldog?” That probably means they are an asshole. To everyone.

13. Look for a lawyer with a technology IQ no more than fifty points less than yours. If you live in e-mail and your lawyer doesn’t, learn to like your mail carrier.

14. If you hate your lawyer, fire him. He probably deserves it, and you aren’t getting his best work anyway.

15. You wouldn’t automatically marry the first person you date, so don’t automatically hire the first lawyer you see. A great lawyer-client relationship can last a lifetime. Your lawyer can be your advisor, counselor, confidant, and friend. Most lawyers are good people genuinely interested in their clients’ best interests. Find one you like, stick with him or her, and spread the word. Oh, and stop telling lawyer jokes. They aren’t really that funny. ;-)

Landslides & Hairline Fractures

[The Pilgrim -- an otherwise fairly resolute woman -- has given shockingly little thought to New Year's resolutions. Writing more, more frequently and -- by Jove! -- more interestingly, however, is on the top of the short, short list.]

A giant ice shelf the size of 11,000 football fields has snapped free from Canada's Arctic. For three-thousand years, the shoal was part of part of a continent; today, it merely suffers the ignomy of man-made comparisons, measured by those whose arrival in these parts long post-dated its existence.

The Pilgrim has reached an age where for the first time the lives of her peers are characterized by loss. For the first three decades of a person's existence, it seems, personal gains accumulate and shape an individual's existence like successive layers of sediment. His realm expands; her sphere of influence grows. The individual acquires increasing levels of legal rights, buying power, personal autonomy, and, most importantly, relational connections. She adds a spouse, he acquires an off-spring -- their community expands.

True, throughout those years, token smidgens of loss -- mere seedlings of the losses to come -- keep the thermodynamic balance of enrichment and deprivation in a person's life in balance. Thus, for example, what the adolescent gains in freedom, he loses in familial closeness. For the average individual, however, the exuberant upward spiral of bigger-better-faster-more effectively conceals these minor bereavements, these small casualties from view.

By the time a person reaches her thirties or forties, however, the scales begin to tip, the thin trickle of losses picks up speed until it becomes a landslide that tears lives asunder: A marriage ends in divorce, a child leaves the roost, a parent dies, a spouse is afflicted by grave illness. The hairline fractures that existed from the very beginning between one's life and the lives of those apparently integral of one's existence expand until plate is torn from plate, life from life, limb from limb -- and we are diminished.

These floes drift. The surrounding waters scrape the ragged edges. With time and distance, the breakages will soften, the sharp lines wash out. Gingerly, the woman traces fingertips over the new contours of her life. Gradually, the amputee makes peace with his stump. Naked do we come from our mothers' wombs, naked do we return: "What are the chances that God finds our failed impersonations of human dignity adorable? Or is he fooled?*"


--
* Annie Dillard, An Expedition to the Pole.

The Pilgrim at Thirty

[The Pilgrim has received a number of very meaningful tokens of appreciation on the occasion of her thirtieth birthday -- the most profound of which have tended to come in the form of time invested in her, hugs and kind words. The following, however, is the hard-to-beat ode presented to the Pilgrim by a friend.]

A Lady thinks She is Thirty

Unwillingly Miranda wakes,
Feels the sun with terror,
One unwilling step she takes,
Shuddering to the mirror.

Miranda in Miranda's sight
Is old and gray and dirty;
Twenty-nine she was last night;
This morning she is thirty.

Shining like the morning star,
Like the twilight shining,
Haunted by a calendar,
Miranda sits a-pining.

Silly girl, silver girl,
Draw the mirror toward you;
Time who makes the years to whirl
Adorned as he adorned you.

Time is timelessness for you;
Calendars for the human;
What's a year, or thirty, to
Loveliness made woman?

Oh, Night will not see thirty again,
Yet soft her wing, Miranda;
Pick up your glass and tell me, then --
How old is Spring, Miranda?

- Ogden Nash

Meet Scott.

The Pilgrim has a friend whom she doesn't see on all that regular a basis, but whose presence never fails to cheer her. He triggers, you might say, "good people radar" -- that sense of being drawn to persons who are, with an embarrassing simplicity that confounds all manner of anthropological insight, simply profoundly good, kind, warm and whole. They are attractive, in ways that go well beyond the sexual -- they draw others to themselves by virtue of the delight they inspire.

The Pilgrim isn't such a person ... but she knows a few, a very few, that are. Amongst them is aforementioned friend, a doctoral student in the field of ethics, a generous and cheerful man with a shock of salt-and-pepper hair, a boyish grin, kind eyes and a beautiful wife. A couple of weeks ago, he discovered that the irregularities in some of his tests were the results of liver cancer; five days ago, he learned that the cancer was inoperable. If things go well -- and the aggressive chemo "takes" -- he could life up to four years; if he does not act promptly, he will be dead in six months. He's 45.

I can't say I "get" any of this. I am no stranger to death; by the time I was 12, my family had buried both my brother and my grandmother, our primary caregiver. I've stood on the graveside of infants, teenagers and of highly accomplished not-yet-old men and women who flourished in the prime of their lives right up to the moment of their death. I am no stranger to death; and none of this makes sense.

Philosophy, according to Plato, is preparation for death; surely the same ought to be said about theology. On his blog, Scott writes:

"I’ve read books and seen movies whose closing paragraphs or scenes had the power to elevate a good story into a great one; I have to think that the manner in which one lives one’s final years, months or moments can have a similar force. As Charlie put it, it is a matter of affirming at the end of one’s life what one has affirmed throughout. In my case, this will call for continued attention to certain practices and disciplines by which I have sought to abide, if not always successfully, since my teen years: the daily habit of Scripture reading and meditation; the habit of choosing, when the choice is given to me, to express gratitude, to make space in myself for someone who is different from me, to forbear rather than to find fault; the mental discipline of referring life experiences and questions back to the central narrative of God’s self-revelation in Christ."

All flesh is grass. For the time being, however, I suggest you meet Scott.