The Professor's Bayonet

Jason Dew

Book reviews and social commentary

  1. 1d ago

    Episode 136 - The Sunset on Malibu

    In Episode 2 of The Professor's Bayonet, I explored the significance of Plato's "Allegory of the Cave" in terms of both the learning and teaching process.  Plato writes about a dark cave in which there are individuals shackled in place and forced to watch a bunch of shadows on the wall.  They believe those shadows are true; however, the opposite, as it were, is true.  The shadows are false.  The shackled individuals are being manipulated. But one individual escapes and makes his way out of the cave and into the light. At first, the light makes him uncomfortable, but he soon adjusts. Does he go on his way?  No.  By moral imperative, he returns and leads other out into the light.  He leads them to the truth.  He makes it his mission to enlighten everybody. Samantha Jones Darling shares in this mission. Her book, The Sunset on Malibu, is an open meditation on leading others out of the dark cave of addiction and into the light of freedom and self-awareness.  Her candid thoughts on the reality of addiction should be welcomed to those who are experiencing or have experienced a similar battle. Darling writes, "[t]here isn't anything wrong with doings things differently that your peers, whether you are in treatment or in the outside world.  We all have a pace, we all have a unique path, and we all have a learning curve that is perfect for us.  It's the challenge of living like others inauthentically that gets us into these rooms in the first place." In effect, while we should all recognize that we are contending with our own shadows – those false things presented to us as real – the process of becoming enlightened looks different for us all. To be authentic is to embrace that true process; otherwise, we risk copying others in hopes of finding our way only to be disappointed when one size truly does not fit all. I was having a conversation with my students about this very thing. Leading others to the truth is a good and noble thing, but the path might be different; indeed, there may be less leading, per se, and more accompanying. The process of enlightenment may require a companion and not a teacher, in other words. Consider the root word of companion, dear listeners.  In "companion" we see the word "pan," which comes from the Latin word "panem" or bread.  To be a companion to someone, to put it another way, is to break bread with them.  It is to sit at the same table across from one another.  My students suggested that one way – perhaps a better way – to lead someone into the light was to walk with that person, not ahead of that person. Darling seems to be doing just that.  Her honesty is direct and her vulnerability, disarming. She shares details about her journey and, in doing so, invites readers to consider naming the details in their own journeys.  Darling writes about waking up from "terrifying nightmares ... dripping with sweat and screaming to escape the hell in my dreams and shaking for hours afterward." Later, she offers this about loneliness: "Solitude has been painted as loneliness, but loneliness isn't the same same as solitude. We experience loneliness when we don't have a relationship with ourselves." And she also writes that "universal love is God."  This is the truth she seeks; indeed, this is the truth she points to. The Sunset on Malibu reads like other books about the road to recovery.  Readers see what rock bottom looked like for the author and then bear witness to how the author climbed out to be in a position to help others. That rock bottom was Darling's cave; the shadows, the manacles were the lies she told herself and the lies she chose to believe.  But in finally discovering the sunset – Darling's position that endings may really be beautiful beginnings – she begins her ascent into what is true and good about life. The book is short, but the message is resounding. There is hope. There is a bright future.  It begins as all journeys begin by placing one foot in front of the other.  www.samanthajonesdarling.com

  2. Sep 22

    Episode 135 - Water Under the Bridge

    Over seventeen years ago, the husband of one of my colleagues passed away.  My response was less than appropriate.  I loaned her a book on the afterlife written, if memory serves me correctly, by N.T. Wright, an Anglican bishop.  While she accepted the book with grace, I have carried with me the guilt of responding to someone's loss with academic coldness.  She lost her husband.  He was in his thirties, and they had just adopted a child.  So I loaned her a book.  Cringeworthy?  Absolutely.  It was only after she stopped by my office to chat recently that I summoned the courage to ask for her forgiveness.  She said it was unnecessary – that many folks responded similarly.  She never thought anything about my clumsy gesture.  I appreciated the words but still felt better for unloading the shame I had been carrying for seventeen years.  I said I was sorry.  To her it was water under the bridge.    What exactly does this term mean ... water under the bridge?  Clearly, it denotes the passing of time, the fact that we can't get it back, but it also means that we should let bygones be bygones.  Let what happened in the past stay there.  There is no cause to resurrect past hurts and, in doing so, taint the present, muddy the waters of now.  Why do we sometimes tend to do the opposite?  What I am getting at is this:    As I get older, I continue to reflect on my past with an eye toward sticking the landing.  I want to learn from my mistakes so that the latter part of my life is more wholesome than the former.  There is no harm in wanting to become a better version of myself; however, I find that many of my past sins are less mistakes to learn from and more instruments of self-flagellation.  I beat myself up.  I cringe at what I had done, what I had said, what I had left undone.  The same sins I had taken to the confessional continue to haunt me, though I know that I have been absolved of them.    So why the self-abuse?    I contend, dear listeners, is that part of my struggle comes down to the fact that I have been blessed with many years and a handful of very important roles, namely husband and father.  I remember some dumb thing I said to a past girlfriend, and I wince.  I recall some dumb action I took, and I try to wish it away.  As I grow older, I find that I am becoming more empathetic; I see in others what their moms or dads see: vulnerable folks just trying to do their best in an oftentimes unforgiving world.  We are children of God, after all.  Children.  Little ones.  And the numbers attached to us – our age – do not matter in the least bit.    I suppose, then, that I am obliged to extend that same grace to myself.  I once heard it said that God takes into consideration the failings of a person when He assigns them some task or puts them in some situation.  Seventeen years ago, God knew my accidental insensitivity.  And He forgave me.  Others I have wronged will not likely stop at my office door and give me a chance to apologize, but that is how life is.  The water moves, rushes by.  It does not stop.  It comes to the bridge and just like that goes under it, and to think anybody can reverse that act is foolishness.  And, I hasten to add, dear listeners, self-destructive: a recipe for discouragement.  Perhaps, then, the real battle is with the accuser.  Many of us have heard the saying: The devil knows your name but calls you by your sin while God knows your sin but calls you by your name.    To those who struggle with regret, remember, therefore, how the One who created you knows you. Loves you.  Gave everything for you.  Not just a book, the Holy Bible.  But His Son.  His only Son.  Who made a way for my colleague to see her husband again.

  3. Sep 15

    Episode 134 - In Due Season

    The Book of Sirach, which is also known as Ben Sira or Ecclesiasticus, is not found in the Protestant Bible.  It is one of seven books that shares this dubious distinction.  Written sometime between 196 and 177 BCE by Yeshua ben Eleazar ben Sira, a Hellenistic Jewish scribe, the Book of Sirach is a compilation of wise sayings, much like the Book of Proverbs, and can be found in the Roman Catholic Bible, the Eastern Orthodox Bible, the Oriental Orthodox Bible, and Assyrian Church of the East Bible.  Most denominations consider it a part of the Apocrypha.  Despite all this, a reading of The Book of Sirach can yield a wealth of insight.  Its single author had a plethora of astute observations on society and his fellow man.  Simply put, he offers good advice.  It is his final words, dear listeners, that I would like to focus on.    In Chapter 51, verse 30, he concludes the book by sharing the following: "Work at your tasks in due season, and in his own time God will give you your reward."  Put another way, do what you need to do today, and when God is ready, he will give you what you deserve.    As I studied this verse in the wee morning hours before the sun had come up, it occurred to me that this is the frame of mind many of us likely need to ward off anxiety and maybe even depression.  It does not take a sage to see that the world is an anxious place with individuals flitting from place to place, doing their very best to remain distracted.  Not to be distracted would mean having to lock eyes with impossible questions: What is the meaning of my life?  Why am I here?  What happens when I am not?  What is time but a thief?  What is the value of those cherished seasons in my life next to eternity?  Where is my life going?  What do I do with all the love that I have?  What do I do with all the love I was given?    Oftentimes, even coming up with the words for the question is a challenge, but that in and of itself points to the sheer enormity of the existential crises we all face.  It begins with a heavy feeling in the gut.  Sometimes, it remains a heavy feeling in the gut, and the words remain scarce or nonexistent.  We simply feel the heaviness of it all.    At fifty-one years old, I am feeling the weight.  My memories compete with my visions of what the future might hold, leaving me to wrestle with the disbelief that I have accumulated so many  years and that it is likely that those years, unless I live into my hundreds, constitute the bulk of my life.    I no longer live in theory.  Time and age are real.  Is this the mark of middle age?  Indeed, is this the beginning of wisdom?    Time is for none of us to control.  Celebrities of all types try to tell us otherwise with the surgeries they undergo and the lifestyles they lead or, at least, pretend to lead.  The lie is all around us.  You can beat time.  You can circumnavigate its effects.  But this is simply false.  We are all caught up in its momentum.  That is why time marches.  Time marches because soldiers march, and good soldiers are singular in mind and aim.    But Chapter 51, verse 30 gives us perspective.  In each season, we have a job.  We merely have to do it.  Go to school.  Start a family.  Raise children.  See them off.  Work at a career.  Love your spouse.  Be a good neighbor.  The clock will tick, and there is nothing we can do about it.  But God stands outside of time, which makes the phrase "in his own time" all the more mysterious.  The human mind cannot explain it.  The human heart cannot fathom it.  We, the poor banished children of Eve, can only experience it with serenity, we hope, accepting the fact that we do not have access to all the answers we seek.  The questions will come.  Pray, let us only be distracted by the work set before us now.

  4. Sep 8

    Episode 133 - A Revolution Shaping Up

    We might blame the steam engine.  Invented by Thomas Newcomen in 1712 and improved by James Watt a half century later, the steam engine is widely regarded as the machine that both sparked and powered the Industrial Revolution.  What began as an innovation to pump water out of mines, the steam engine and its many iterations soon powered paper mills, flour mills, breweries, distilleries, and iron mills just to name a few beneficiaries.  The prospects were good.  Industry boomed, and as a result, many individuals who had eked out a living on country farms moved to urban centers for work.    The results, however, were mixed.  While industry continued to grow and evolve, the laborers whose blood, sweat, and tears kept the momentum going grew alienated and lost.  Uprooted from their small towns and families, and epidemic of loneliness and despair swept over the land.  Romantic poets such as William Wordsworth and William Blake explored these feelings in their poetry and came to the conclusion that a return to nature was in order because that is where the Divine resided.  This, of course, was the recommendation of poets, and while those recommendations were eventually enfolded into the culture, the harsh effects of the Industrial Revolution remained.  The masses were beginning to feel like animals bereft of purpose, meaning, value, and God.    Meanwhile, the titans of industry – Rockefeller, Vanderbilt, Carnegie, Morgan, and Ford – grew rich beyond measure.  Their storehouses were fabulously large.  There did not seem to be any limit to their wealth.    And, dear listeners, the masses noticed.    Wealth and power were too much in the hands of the very few – the industrial titans, to be sure, but also the royalty or anybody whose riches and power were legacy, not earned.    The people rose up in Russia and killed the Romanovs.  The people also rose up in China, disrupting a global region in ways that are still felt today.  And the revolutions were bloody.  Very bloody.  The beast that had been yoked for so long turned on its oppressor and chewed it to pieces.    I share this bit of history to suggest that the events that led to such wanton killing in Europe and Asia and violent social upheavals in the U.S. might prefigure what is happening in the current year.  Specifically, the rise of artificial intelligence is making a very few very wealthy while putting the rest of us – the masses – in predicaments where we have to wonder about the security of our jobs.  Once again, the few are getting wealthier while the vast majority is left to wring their hands and suffer.  Add to this situation the intentional dumbing down of our society by base entertainment, the overreliance, dare I say addiction, to technology – cellphones, ChatGPT, etc. -- and an education system that is increasingly reluctant to challenge students in meaningful ways and we get a world on the brink of exploding.  History is about to repeat itself, but in this case, call it Revolution 2.0.  As the gap between those who benefit from AI and those who do not benefit from AI grows, so, too, will the frustration had by the masses that their best efforts will never be enough.  Indeed, their best efforts are being replaced.  Soon enough, the common man will be as obsolete as a typewriter.    This is not me being an alarmist.  If current trends in wealth disparity exacerbated by slipping intellectual standards continue, the writing is on the wall.  Only this time, it will not be pitchforks the masses are wielding but weapons of a more sophisticated and lethal sort -- killing machines so unlike the steam engine as to be grotesque and nightmarish wielded by the illiterate, the unread, the angry beyond words.

  5. Sep 1

    Episode 132 - Time is a Creature

    A boy named Augustine asked Bishop Robert Barron how God was able to exist before time.  The question is common enough.  Individuals young and old ponder over it.  But his answer was simple.  Time is a creature, he said.  It is a created thing.  God is not bound by the laws of His own creation.  He exists outside of time, outside of those laws.   For the rest of us who very much do exist in time and are bound by its rules, the notion that the God of the universe exists outside of time remains a headscratcher.  We might be able to understand the concept intellectually but only in that way.  There is a lot of heart bound up in time – specifically the passing of it – so we must relegate that truth of God to the bin meant for questions that cannot be answered on this side of paradise.  It will remain a mystery as we lean more heavily into our faith.   But even so, does the recognition that time is a creature afford us any new perspective on life, any modicum of peace?  Time is our most precious commodity, yet it is time that corrupts.  Rust.  Dilapidation.  Wrinkles.  Aches and pains.  Growing old.  Time's relentless momentum.  Time as the pressure cooker to get us to do this or that.  Act now.  Seize chances.  Time wasted.  Times that cannot be recovered.  Nostalgia.  Looking back.  Cherished memories so precious they hurt.   What does it mean to worship a God who is above all of this?  What does it mean to pray for His will to be done in your life?  More to the point, if God is love, and love exists outside of time, does this mean that the love we have for others does not fade never mind death, the event that removes people from the laws of time?   Seeing time as a creature, for me at least, removes its fangs.  It is, like everything else, under God's dominion, and, therefore, we should not fear its manifestations.  Our lives are made up of seasons, and many of those seasons are beloved, yet we should be confident in the truth that the love we shared in those seasons does not end with change or separation or death because love itself is eternal.  God is eternal.  The Gospel of Matthew puts it best: "What you bind on earth will be bound in heaven."  In the time we have, we bind.  When we join God in heaven, those bounds will be secure.   The Book of Sirach puts it like this:  What are mortals? What are they worth?  What is good in them, and what is evil?  The number of their days seems great  if it reaches a hundred years.a  Like a drop of water from the sea and a grain of sand,  so are these few years among the days of eternity.  That is why the Lord is patient with them  and pours out his mercy on them.  He sees and understands that their death is wretched,  and so he forgives them all the more.  Their compassion is for their neighbor,  but the Lord’s compassion reaches all flesh,  Reproving, admonishing, teaching,  and turning them back, as a shepherd his flock.b  Time is, indeed, a creature, but thank God we have a shepherd who guides each of His children through the years they are allotted toward incorruptible fields and a love only sampled in the land of clocks and deadlines.

  6. Aug 18

    Episode 131 - Saint Peter and Three Tents

    A reading from the Holy Gospel according to Matthew: "After six days Jesus took Peter, James, and John his brother, and led them up a high mountain by themselves.  and he was transfigured before them: his face shone like the sun and his clothes became white as light.  And behold, Moses and Elijah appeared to them, conversing with him.  Then Peter said to Jesus in reply, 'Lord, it is good that we are here.  If you wish, I will make three tents here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.'  While he was still speaking, behold, a bright cloud cast a shadow over them, then from the cloud came a voice that said, 'This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.'  When the disciples heard this, they fell prostrate and were very much afraid.  But Jesus came and touched them, saying 'Rise, and do not be afraid.' This is the scripture that came to me while I was walking my dog, Arrow, at Simpsonwood Park, doing my best to reconcile the joy I have for my daughter who just started a new adventure at Georgia Southern University with the broken heart I have because of her absence and the weight of the reality that a season of my life is coming to a close.  The struggle, as they say, is real.  For nineteen years, we have been building up to her launch, but when it finally occurred, it was very, very hard to accept.  I am excited for her but sad.  I know it is the best, but I still cry.  Suddenly.  Walking up the stairs.  Glancing at the door to her empty bedroom. I have been praying about it.  Perhaps I can use this experience to better understand our Heavenly Father's heart.  What did sin do but separate Him from his children?  And how did He respond but launch a massively scaled rescue mission, sending a savior, a Messiah, His Son, to defeat sin and death on the cross so that the distance between Father and all of His children is closed?  I miss her.  God missed us all.  Perhaps this small taste will draw me closer to His heart. But then I thought of Peter and his statement that "it is good that we are here."  And then it hit me.  I am just like Peter.  In being so reluctant to turn a page, go from one season to another, I am essentially saying the same thing: "it is good that we are here."  And I also have the impulse to build tents.  One for this daughter.  One for that daughter.  One for yet another daughter.  I am trying to stay in this season, trying to keep my daughters little, in princess dresses, reliant on me and their mother for everything. But what does scripture tell us?  While Peter was still speaking, still drafting plans to stay in that moment, that season, something profound happened.  They heard the voice of God.  What was good turned into something even better, something unimaginable.  To be sure, they got a glimpse of their own future glory, and their reaction was typical enough.  Fear. They were terrified.  But what does Jesus do?  The same thing He has been doing all along...saying to them, "Do not be afraid." Our lives are made up of a series of seasons.  I thought about the many seasons in my life on that walk in the park.  Some seasons are good while others are more challenging, but a common response to going from one season to another is fear.  Becoming an empty nester makes me afraid. Not having all of my daughters living under one room with me and my wife makes me afraid.  Yet this scripture tells me that my impulse to want to stay in a season – declare that the season is "good" and begin to build tents – is not in God's economy.  Though I cannot see it, God's plans are better, way better than mine.  Here was good for a time, and I cherish every single memory of that season when the girls were little, when they held my hand to cross the street.  But here is not where we were meant to remain.  Peter wanted to build tents.  God wants to build His kingdom.  May all of our children have a hand in that glorious effort as we continue to love them fiercely from a distance.

  7. Aug 11

    Episode 130 - Flash

    Today, we put down our beloved cat, Flash.  He was fourteen years old.  At first, the signs of his decline were small.  His fur lost its shine.  There was a scratch in his meow.  But then he stopped eating, grew skinny, wouldn’t even nibble on his treats or the deli turkey he loved so much.  I bought the fancy stuff.  Nothing.  I finally took him to the vet where they ran blood tests.  The results were mixed and inconclusive.  It could be this.  It might be that.  We would have to run even more tests.  We did what families do: talked about it, weighed our options, looked at Flash intently as if doing so would give us the answers.  Perhaps he was just getting old.  Let’s wait and see.  But then he disappeared, and we feared that he had wandered off to die on his own.  We canvased the neighborhood, asked the neighbors to be on the lookout.  But then he turned up, lying by the fountain water dish.  When I came downstairs, my three daughters were huddled around him, petting him, stroking his paws.  Flash hardly moved.  I knew I had to make a phone call.  We put him in a box with a towel and drove to the vet.  He didn’t meow.  He didn’t fuss.  After an examination and the presentation of more options, I made the call.  It was time.  No more prodding or poking.  First the sedative.  Then the poison that would stop his heart and lungs.  Flash went easily.  A life.  A cat.  But not only a cat.  My youngest daughter was only two when we got Flash, which means that this little grey and white tuxedo cat witnessed my daughters grow up.  They learned how to feed him and give him water.  They took him to the Blessing of the Pets ceremony at their Catholic school a number of times, and he regularly slept on my youngest daughter’s bed at night.  It was all a part of a routine.  She went to bed, and I found Flash.  I carried him upstairs and lightly knocked on her bedroom door.  “Package,” I said, and she would open the door and accept Flash into her arms.  We all performed our duties very matter-of-fact, even Flash.  He came to expect the nightly performance.  Of course, we had our way of talking with him as pet owners do: words, phrases, silly ways to communicate.  And that is part of the experience.  If you, dear listeners have a pet, you know exactly what I am talking about.  But what I have been reflecting on all day – after we returned from the vet’s office, after I dug the hole, placed him in it, and said a prayer – is what Flash, in particular, and pets, in general, mean.  They are not providers.  They are not protectors.  They are companions.  Companions.  And that means something.  Just being there is important.  And Flash was there.  While the family was abuzz with activities – carpooling to school, soccer, volleyball, family vacations, playdates, and work, endless work – Flash sat with us through it all.  In our coming and going, he would offer a friendly meow; at the end of a long day, he would quietly jump onto the couch and sit with us, letting us pet him to help us unwind.  We loved Flash, and he loved us, and I suppose he taught us that love does not always have to be about doing something.  Love can look like just being present.  Just being a companion  Not giving advice.  Not making demands.  Just sitting beside us all those years as we marveled at how quickly the girls grew and how the gray hairs just kept coming.  That was his gift to us.  Until it was time to go.  A mere week away from dropping our oldest daughter off at college – an event for which I have been steeling myself for months, maybe years – Flash concluded that his journey with us was done.  Other companions would come our way.  The girls were young women now, and everything would be alright.

  8. Aug 4

    Episode 129 - The Wrong Wall

    To paraphrase 20th century American author and professor of literature, Joseph Campbell, “life’s greatest tragedy is not failure but climbing the ladder of success only to realize that you had leaned your ladder against the wrong wall.”  Elsewhere, this quote is attributed to what mid-life is all about.  One falls into a career path, works hard, burns the candle at both ends, and reaches middle age only to realize with some horror that they back the wrong pony, discerned incorrectly, made a wrong turn and just kept on going.  What a person can do in this predicament is anyone’s guess.  I suppose this is the precursor to a midlife crisis.  Once the supposed err is realized, an attempt to reshuffle circumstances takes place.  Down comes the ladder; up it goes somewhere else.  But anyone with eyes to see knows that this rarely ends well.  Broken marriages, broken relationships, peculiar purchases and moves.  This is the blond secretary, the red hot rod.  Witnesses laugh at first then become sad because the event is sad.  Time flows in only one direction after all.  Rarely is there a life without regrets.  We muddle through, doing our best to make good decisions and kicking ourselves when we don’t, but when it all adds up, we simply have to live with the burden of roads not taken.  We did not always heed the advice of Robert Frost.  Most times, we took the predictable route.  Apart from being an astute insight on the sometimes experience of being middle age, Campbell’s thoughts on what he considers to be one of life’s greatest tragedies leaves readers wanting.  A person might ingest his words and say, Well, my ladder has been leaning against the wrong wall this whole time.  I am ten or fifteen years from retirement.  Now what?  Do I just muscle through until I can retire, buy my boat, and sail off into the distance?  Perhaps little Emma Knight, a grade school student, has the best advice for those mulling over the efforts of their lives and the next steps after middle age.  She writes, “When I turn 100 years old I will be tired of everything and everyone, so I will tell everyone that I am going to Canada but actually go to the Bahamas.  I’ll live in a tiny hut with my tiny dog.  I will order fish tacos when I’m hungry and live my best life with no crap.”  The point, dear listeners?  Living involves great effort, and not all decisions will be sound.  At some point, we will all get tired and begin to take careful stock of our circumstances.  If we are fortunate, the wall our ladders have been leaning against has been the correct one or, at least, something close to it.  Our internal compass had been right.  We had listened to the correct voice.  If the wall had been the wrong one all along then we might reframe our lives to look at the intent and not the gains.  We meant well.  We really did.  Perhaps there is time enough for grace and a redirection – another wall to receive our ladder.  The very lucky are granted this wish.  At fifty-one, I am examining my own wall.  Perhaps this is the real takeaway from Campbell.  His thoughts are less an indictment of making the wrong decision and more a call to study where one happens to be: how they got there, was it worth it.  I, for one, am doing my best to understand the initiatives I have taken and those I chose to dismiss.  My question, really, is in a poem I wrote.  I hope it lands well.  A Cucumber at Fifty-One   Optimistically, I bought many  packets – cucumber seeds –   and prepared a nice bed.  They sprouted after a time  and grew, tendrils reaching upward,  climbing the wire lattice.  And when the yellow flowers began to  burst, I thought of the cucumbers  gramma would sprinkle with salt,  but as the days grew hot and  the insects droned, the flowers  simply wilted, refused to  transform: a great tangle of  cucumber vines – so much potential  unrealized.  It yielded just one.  The present sum of my endeavors, I thought.

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