Darrell J. Pursiful

August 2016 Biblical Studies Carnival

The Monday Morning Theologian has the honors this month. So go over to J. K. Turner’s blog for all the best of biblioblogging for the month of August.

Scooby Doo is Fun TV but a Lousy Worldview

Over at JesusCreed, Jonathan Storment has written an intriguing review of Reviving Old Scratch by Richard Beck. This is a book about spiritual warfare—but Storment urges us not to roll our eyes just yet.

I want you to know this isn’t like the other spiritual warfare books out there. It is written specifically for the kinds of Christians who stopped believing in the Devil/Demons a long time ago, by someone who went down that same road.

The best way I could summarize Beck’s work is that he quotes the Canadian Philosopher Charles Taylor, lots of Scripture, lots of theologians, and talks often about Scooby Doo.

After providing some necessary philosophical background based on Charles Taylor’s A Secular Age, Storment sums up Beck’s train of thought with these words:

…Scooby Doo is a perfect example of what it looks like to live in a disenchanted age. Think about every Scooby Doo episode you’ve ever seen. It starts out with an enchanted world. They’re in some haunted mansion, chasing down a ghost or goblin of some kind. All of them are terrified because they are vulnerable to the spiritual forces of the universe and at some point Shaggy runs away screaming and Scooby says “ruh­roh.”

But then the turn comes. And the ghost trips over some chair
or accidentally overplays its hand, and these detective kids suddenly realize that this isn’t a ghost at all.

Then there is the great unmasking, where they pull back the disguise and sure enough…there are no demons in the world, this is just Old Mr. Dickerson, the greedy banker trying to get rich.

Beck says

When the downward pressure of skepticism win and the enchanted world is emptied out, all that is left is the flat, horizontal drama of human action and interaction. This is the trajectory of a Scooby-Doo episode, the journey to discover that, in the end, there are no ghosts or gods or devils. In the final analysis, at the end of the thirty-minute adventure, there are only human beings.

Which sounds fine to a lot of progressive Christians. We really want to focus on human beings, we want Christianity to be good for human beings, we love humanity…until we don’t.

And here is Beck’s sweet spot, because I know him well, I really appreciated this section, because I’ve seen him live it out. What happens when progressive, disenchanted Christians try to follow Jesus into the messy places of the world without a robust theology of Spiritual warfare?

The battle becomes precisely against flesh and blood.

Do read the whole thing.

You Just Don’t Mess with Elves

Via Atlas Obscura:

The “elfin lady stone” was actually covered up back in 2015 after road work was conducted to clear a landslide near the town of Siglufjordur. The rock, which according to local folklore, was sacred to the elves, was buried without the workers even taking much notice. Until the calamities started.

Tolkien notwithstanding, the elves of northern Europe have kind of a shady reputation in folklore. Just saying.

Sunday Inspiration: Reading

How can any man judge, unless his mind has been opened and enlarged by reading?
—John Adams

Sunday Inspiration: Light and Love

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.
—Martin Luther King Jr.

Say!

Who put that blurb for The River of Night up over there?

Sunday Inspiration: Something Beautiful

If you see something beautiful in someone, speak it.
—Ruthie Lindsey

Cannibal Dwarves: Hostile Little Folk of the Great Plains

The San Pedro Mountains Mummy, claimed by some to be the remains of a Nimerigar

The San Pedro Mountains Mummy, claimed by some to be the remains of a Nimerigar (Wikipedia)

For the most part, the Fair Folk of North America are more congenial than their European counterparts. Though exceptions certainly exist, they are more likely to be friendly to mortals than the average sídhe or pisgy, for example.

One clear exception is found among the peoples of the Great Plains. The little folk of that vast region between the Rocky Mountains and the Mississippi River are most often depicted as a race of dangerous cannibals. These “cannibal dwarves” or “wild people” are known to virtually every tribe in the region—and even into the Rocky Mountains. They are called by a multitude of names, including:

  • Gada’zhe, mong-thu-jah-the-gah, or ni’kashinga man’tanaha (Omaha-Ponca)
  • Hecesiiteihi (Arapaho)
  • Mi’-a-gthu-shka or mialuka (Osage)
  • Nimerigar (corruption of Shoshoni nemetakah, numu-tuhka)
  • Nirumbee or awwakkulé (Crow)
  • Nunnupi or nunumbi (Comanche)
  • Vo’estanehesano (Cheyenne)

Cannibal dwarves are dangerous and aggressive by nature. Like the faeries of Europe, they sometimes kidnap children or use their magical powers to harm people. They hunt with bows and poisoned arrows, and are able to inflict wounds without breaking the skin—also a point in common with their European cousins. They have their own villages, trails, and other places. They can only be seen, however, when they want to be or are taken unawares.

Descriptions of these little folk vary somewhat from community to community. In Arapaho legend, they are immensely strong. According to the Omaha, they are tiny one-eyed cyclopes. The Crow see them with pot bellies and no necks. In other Siouan traditions (Osage, Omaha, and Kansa, for example), they sometimes have wings.

Whatever the particulars, these beings are usually said to be the size of children (generally 2–4 feet tall), dark-skinned, and extremely aggressive. They usually have squat necks and sharp teeth. Some storytellers say they have the power to turn themselves invisible, while others say they are hard to spot simply because they move with incredible speed. Some suggest that their warlike temperament comes because they must be killed in battle in order to reach their dwarfish afterlife. Others say that they are gluttons who habitually kill more than they can eat just because they can.

These beings are almost always hostile to human beings. There are some Crow legends, however, in which a nirumbee helps a mortal, especially during a sacred fast or in return to a kindness done to them. Furthermore, they are said to have played a major role in shaping the destiny of the Crow nation through the dreams of the Crow chief Plenty Coups in the early twentieth century. They thus can be seen as imparting spiritual wisdom despite their overall hostility to humans.

Sunday Inspiration: Passion

One person with passion is better than forty people merely interested
—E. M. Forster

Sunday Inspiration: Music

The fact that children can make beautiful music is less significant than the fact that music can make beautiful children.
—Cheryl Lavender

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