Showing posts with label Lent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lent. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 31, 2026

Locked Room Mystery (redivivus ter)

 

The caterpillar   with shrivelled skin
in a tent of silk    was laid therein.

This crumpled thing,   shrunk like a shroud,
was laid in silk   white as a cloud.

The sons of men   stood round about
warding the worm   should not get out.

Three days they stood   with solemn face,
never eyes wavering   from that place.

Then did they open   that mute cocoon,
and stood amazed:   the worm was gone !

Then some believed   and some did doubt
how that the worm   could have got out.

Yet to the sky   in spiral rings
the new flew forth   on crystal wings.


~

[ For a tale of Paschal miracle:
Murphy Makes a Mitzvah ]

Sunday, April 19, 2020

Locked Room Mystery (redivivus ter)



The caterpillar   with shrivelled skin
in a tent of silk    was laid therein.

This crumpled thing,   shrunk like a shroud,
was laid in silk   white as a cloud.

The sons of men   stood round about
warding the worm   should not get out.

Three days they stood   with solemn face,
never eyes wavering   from that place.

Then did they open   that mute cocoon,
and stood amazed:   the worm was gone !

Then some believed   and some did doubt
how that the worm   could have got out.

Yet to the sky   in spiral rings
the new flew forth   on crystal wings.


~

[ For a tale of Paschal miracle:
Murphy Makes a Mitzvah ]

.

Saturday, March 31, 2018

Faith and Ceremony


G. K. Chesterton, originally Protestant, then a convert to Catholicism, defends his church against Iconoclasts;  his remarks do equally well in defense of Eastern Orthodoxy.

Though of course these shows and pageants  meant immeasurably much to me, and profoundly affected my emotions,  yet I do not base my belief on such emotions, still less on such pageants or shows.   I was myself received into the Catholic Church  in a small tin shed, painted brick-red, which stood among the sculleries and outhouses of a Railway Hotel.
-- G.K. Chesterton, The Resurrection of Rome (1930)

Thursday, March 29, 2018

Eschatological Monostich



The soul   does not die by sin,  but by impenitence.

-- G.K. Chesterton, The Resurrection of Rome (1930)





Saturday, March 25, 2017

A Late Start on Lent





I did not receive the Ashes this year; and have no excuse, nor lessons to tell.  But it is never too late to … shut up;  so, no more posts until I am better instructed.

Sunday, March 8, 2015

Paradox (for Lent)



"Riddle this me, a thing that's three,
 and yet is only one."
"That is the blessed Trinity,
Father, Ghost, and Son."

"How then a man who dropped and died,
yet walks upon the mold?"
"That is the resurrected Christ,
of whom that tale is told."

"What then of him  who penned the prayer,
yet has forgotten faith?"
"Great God, that wretched man am I;
Help thou mine unbelief."


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[For a treatise on the Trinity by Murphy the penitent detective, click here.]

Saturday, February 28, 2015

Lenten reflections

For some reason, I cannot offer these directly yet.
But you might check out the reflections of the penitent private detective:






Friday, February 27, 2015

Explication de texte


A prayer for the Lenten season:

Almighty and everlasting God,
who hatest nothing that thou hast made,
and dost forgive the sins of all them that are penitent:
Create and make in us new and contrite hearts,
that we  worthily lamenting our sins, and acknowledging our wretchedness,
may obtain of thee, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness;
 through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.



Sterling commentary  here:

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Dies cinerum


Today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent.

Memento homo, quia pulvis es  et in pulverem reverteris


Almighty and everlasting God, who hatest nothing that thou hast made, and dost forgive the sins of all them that are penitent:
Create and make in us new and contrite hearts, that we  worthily lamenting our sins, and acknowledging our wretchedness,  may obtain of thee, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness; through Jesus Christ our Lord.


And here we see the holy-day, as celebrated in the village of Heldra (in Hesse):




Our Lenten reflections  of seasons past  may be consulted  here.

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Mardi Gras

Violins and trumpets!  Children in the streets.
Balloon men and circus gongs  and peasants selling sweets.
Tall man in a top hat, smiling  walking by.
Old dog on a hayrick, in the sun, he’s sly.

Here comes the mayor, with him  the city band.
Dancers turn and gaily wave;  sailors lend a hand.
Everybody’s celebrating;  no-one is ashamed.
No-one but the old dog, sly eyes, leg lame.


The village band strikes up a tune, the dancers take it up.
Mice and aunts and children prance, spry cat and young pup.
Buttons in their buttonholes  and music in their ears.
The old dog slips from the hayrick and disappears.

The village fool sits on the stool, and gives the folks advice.
Gently gay they take it, and everything turns out nice.
Children gobble cherries and fruit ice from the golden bowl.
But the old dog is in the alley now, on the prowl.

The evening follows afternoon,  the happy dancers yawn.
It’s home to suppers and sleepy beds, to dream until the dawn.
The sun stares down upon the earth, with swollen bloody eye.
This is the time the dog likes best.  He’s sly.

Sleep pretty, tiny pretty ones.  The nighttime loves you best.
Aloft awash  on a sleep of dreams, in down and nightgowns dressed.
For the old dog  screaming at the moon,  bitterly insane--
he cannot harm you from the hill;  you cannot share   his   pain.

Sunday, February 15, 2015

Rosenmontag word-of-the-day: “Schoduvel”



Americans are fond of ‘celebrating’ the ‘diversity’ of their country.  But actually, compared to Europe, it is pretty much one mass-marketed culture from coast to coast.   Europe -- residually, at any rate -- still has genuine diversity of cultural traditions  of a kind unimaginable in America.
Thus, take Shrovetide (a word most Americans can no longer even define.)
In America, Mardi Gras is basically just a time for people from various regions to go to New Orleans to get drunk.   Culturally, it is quite comparable to the Superbowl;  its religious significance (as Shrove Tuesday) is nil.

In many parts of Christian Europe, Fasching still means something;  it is observed, in different regions, in multiple different ways, with traditions going back to the Middle Ages.  

Rosenmontag -- 1836


Mardi gras (Fastnacht) to be sure, by those who remember that we then faire gras as a last indulgence before the forty-day fast that begins on Ash Wednesday; but likewise, especially in northern Germany, Rosenmontag.



And even, in Braunschweig (Lower Saxony), especially, a festival on the Sunday before that:  the Schoduvel (North German dialect -- literally ‘scare-devil’), going back to folkways intended to frighten-off such imps as  Jack Frost, and eventually blending in with the Karneval.   Little did the revelers realize that they have more to fear than the ills of winter:  much closer to home, they have been nursing a nest of vipers, now for years.




For now this genuine European diversity  is under threat from those who adopt “Diversity” as a banner, using it as a club to bludgeon European dignity and history.  Most recently, today in Braunschweig, the Schoduvel has been canceled owing to threats of violence from the Salafistenszene -- not something the police take lightly, given the events of the day before, next door in Denmark.  A couple of weeks before that, a parade in protest against Islamist violence was forbidden by German police owing to … threats of Islamist violence.  (The links/grün/bisounours coalition  failed to notice the irony.)

Schoduvel -- Doomed by Diversity

~

Folkloristic footnote:


The variegation of traditional European cultures  is not only country by country, but region by region, in Germany in particular.   We earlier glanced at Ripuarian richness:

For a Plattdeutsch account of Shrovetide festivities:


Aschermittwoch as well is marked regionally with particular traditional pageantry:


Strohbärentag

[Update 21 November 2015]  Yet another Christian festival, canceled because of an Islamist terrorist threat:

Le traditionnel cortège pour l’arrivée de la Saint-Nicolas à Vilvorde, dans la grande banlieue de la ville, est supprimé.

Annulé

[Update 24 Feb 2017]  Good news!  Brunswick in Lower Saxony is merrily celebrating the Schoduvel, under the defiantly jaunty slogan (and beneath the focussed gaze of hundreds of policement,
"Helau, wir tun es allen kund :  der Schoduvel bleibt frei und bund."

http://www.ndr.de/nachrichten/niedersachsen/braunschweig_harz_goettingen/Braunschweig-155000-Jecken-feiern-Schoduvel,schoduvel620.html




*
Falls Sie im Doktor-Justiz-Sammelsurium
weiterblättern möchten,
Bitte hier klicken:
http://worldofdrjustice.blogspot.com/search/label/Mitteleuropa

*

[Update 10 mars 2018]  Meanwhile in France:


Bon «clet’che» !

.

Sunday, July 20, 2014

A Man of Sorrow, and Acquainted with Grief


Sorrowful indeed:
Roscoe Holcomb - I am a man of constant sorrow

Less so:
Man of Constant Sorrow - The Stanley Brothers

Dylan’s version (1963):
(The album version is even more robust, but it seems to be unfindable online.)

The Soggy Bottom Boys (these are the real singers; lip-synched by various movie-stars):
(Terrific video, thanks to the Coen Brothers)

Stabat mater, dolerosa


Darker, deeper:

Schubert, “Der Leiermann”

Yet another notch  down/down/down …

Meta-that:


Tuesday, July 8, 2014

رمضان مبارك


We have often had occasion to praise the Moroccan-born radio-feulletoniste Fouad Laroui.  Here is the bio thumbnail provided by Medi1:

Depuis les Pays Bas, il nous offre chaque lundi sur Medi 1 le regard distancé, ironique, amusé ou caustique d’un maghrébin vivant en Europe du « Nord », et a pour cible la bêtise, la méchanceté et le fanatisme.

All that is true enough;  but he is not simply a satirist.  Here, he chronicles some quite intelligent and inventive innovations by Europe-based Muslims -- one taking into account history and northern latitudes, another observing Ramadan in what is effectively more a Lenten Christian spirit:

http://www.medi1.com/player/player.php?i=6031585

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Tasty Recipes for Lent !!


US Catholics free to eat alligator this Lent
http://www.catholicherald.co.uk/news/2014/03/11/bishops-says-us-catholics-can-eat-alligator-during-lent/

Mm-mm-good!



Here comes dinner !!

Home-style Recipe:

  (1)  Catch alligator.
  (2)  Season to taste.


Saturday, March 30, 2013

Of Crime and Sin -- and Mercy


Here is how the Pope spent Maundy Thursday:

Le pape François a lavé jeudi les pieds de douze détenus, dont deux jeunes filles, dans une prison de Rome. Un geste sans précédent.

The press made a big deal out of how some of the prisoners whose feet the Holy Father washed, were women -- as though everyone involved were Salafi.
In the section of readers’ comments, Christians ‘got it’, whereas a couple of baffled agnostics worried whether, by this action the Pope were being “soft on crime”.  (The fingers twitch, itching to add an editorial “[sic!]”:  but in fact, on reflection, there is a kind of truth in this view.   But it is not a truth of the marketplace, nor indeed of this world.)

The foot-washing ceremony is not really doctrinal:  it is exemplary and physical.  When Jesus did it, it prefigured that final physical act of grace, the sharing of the bread and wine, commemorated in Communion.


Crime, like war and pestilence, and all the other woes of this vale, are concerning;  yet Christ and his church are after bigger game :  Sin.   This distinction is signally illustrated that supreme scene of all our literature, in which Jean Valjean, having been hosted to dinner by the Bishop, makes off with the silver tableware;  is caught, and hauled back to the Bishop’s dwelling in custody.  “Ah, so glad to see you again, my friend!” cries the Bishop, to the amazement of the constables.  “You forgot the candletsticks!”
Only in the shallowest view  was the Bishop being ‘soft on crime’:  He had spotted in Jean Valjean something much worse than any crime:  a soul in peril.   On the usurer’s balance-pan, the Bishop’s act makes no sense;  but it had a transcendent sense -- it gave sense to a life that erst had lacked it.

~


All this leads us to the mystery of Mercy -- and thence, to the Merchant of Venice.

Some choice passages of Theodore Reik would here be in point, but the volume lies not to hand.  The upshot, if memory serves, was that, although Shakespeare wore very lightly  whatever religion he may have had, he grew up in an England steeped with Christian legend if not theology, and may have been influenced by it here;  and that we are to take the play (whether Shakespeare himself so intended it or not) as a serious confrontation between Judaism and Christianity.   Our only point in raising this here, is to angle back in on the mystical import of the Pope’s gesture (so strange to the unchurched).   In light of this, we are not really practicing textual criticism here, so much as suggesting a possible staging of the play.
 

The Merchant is of course  a painful puzzle for the modern metteur en scène:  No one wishes to appear anti-Semitic.   Do you downplay Shylock’s Jewishness?  Do you insert apologetic mumblings into the program notes?
The reading (or staging) that I suggest, confronts this question in a way that has nothing whatever to do with political correctness:  that of not playing down, but playing up Shylock’s Jewish faith and ancestry, playing it up to its full and mighty stature, whose long shadow has ever lain across the world.
That Shylock could be a money-lender, followed from well-known sociohistorical reasons;  the status neither shocks a modern audience, inured as we are to the world of promiscuous high finance, nor has it any theological significance:  it simply is perfect for the plot.  That Jews in the Middle Ages were the ones who must finance the follies of the Gentiles, is historically amusing, but does not go to the heart of Moses, nor of Abraham.   The covenant of Abraham, and the laws brought down by Moses, are the rock upon which all that was later solid  rests.   Shylock, as such, should not be edulcorated, and he needs no excuses.   He is (or, let us depict him as) a pillar of Old Testament rectitude.   In insisting upon the force and vigor of his bond with Antonio (for the Jews well know about bonds, as well as bondage), he is as righteous in his way, as the cadi ordering the amputation of thieving hands.   Basanio -- the feckless debtor whose follies set the whole thing in motion -- is callow by comparison.  (Were I to stage the play, he would be played by one of the Monty Pythons.) 


Shylock movingly depicts  the plight and trials of his long-oppressed people;  but when it comes to the case in point, he needs no lawyer’s rhetoric or tricks:  he has the law on his side.    Portia herself admits the literal justice of Shylock’s claim, by all the judicial reasonings of this world.


Friday, March 29, 2013

Triduum (redivivus)

Spring is here, merry and jolly, though Easter’s re-Resurrection  is not yet.  (Did you know that Lent is cognate with the German word for 'Spring' -- Lenz  ?)

But Karfreitag is upon us (ahd. chara ‘Wehklage, Trauer’), and it is meet that we should mention this.



A sombre mediation, with musical accompaniment,  here:

Sunday, March 17, 2013

A Prayer for Lemonflower



Sire, quand la chère,   jeunesse perdue,
terni son teint,   ses beautés chues,
sÄ“ro ira   semer ses fleurs,
daignez qu’elle chante ainsi, Seigneur.

(from the CD "Divine Amarillis", Donna Stewart singing)


[Samples from lovely Lemonflower  linked-to here:
http://worldofdrjustice.blogspot.com/2011/11/cappella.html  ]

Footnote:
The lovely sung version of Ronsard's classic poem, linked-to above, is evidently by an anglophone.  That aspect obtruded itself not at all: rather, a woman  in the sweet twilight of life, whose interpretation  recalled the sensitive renditions of the elusive Miss Coffeescup (to use her other alias).  It left nothing to be desired.  In particular, once you have acquired the spirit of a language, not being its native speaker  little hampers you in interpreting its music -- especially as, in this case, the language is Old French (of which our songstress is well aware: note how she sings, historically accurately, avouait for avait), which no-one in our day, intra- or extra-Hexagonally, any longer speaks.
And yet and yet ... The following popped up, in the course of surfing; and though, musically and aesthetically, one is entitled to one's own opinion, I could not but note, that the singer must needs be, without a doubt, a born-and-bred  Frenchman:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fLjAFvBwlyk

Sunday, December 2, 2012

The Challenge of Darwinism, updated for Lent (and further updated for Advent)


In the post below, originally published during the Lenten season of this year, we locked horns with the Darwinist défi, from a mathematical/philosophical/theological point of view.  Herewith, by way of preface, a brief companion-piece, which abjures all those disciplines, and sticks to biology and sociology.

Characterizing Freud’s stance in 1908, in an article published in Mutterschutz  (“Defense of Motherhood”), his admiring biographer Jones writes:

The glorifying of monogamy  paralyzes the process of selection, which is the only hope of improving the human constitution, a hope which humanitarianism and hygiene  has already reduced to a minumum.
-- Ernest Jones, Freud: Years of Maturity (1955), p. 293

This passage may be difficult for today’s young people to understand.  By selection he means Darwinian Natural Selection, nowadays mostly known as “Evolution” -- Nature’s ruthless culling of the unfit.  Constitution here means ‘genome’.   Humanitarianism refers to welfare payments and the like, which provide survival -- and opportunities for further procreation -- to individuals who would, in an earlier age, have gone by the board without issue.   Hygiene refers to state-sponsored measures of Public Health,  which, reducing mortality across the population, again nurtures the frail along with the rugged.
Such thoughts are no longer publically expressed these days, let alone in such old-fashioned words.  In earlier decades, such qualms were mainstream:  though seldom was monogamy singled out  as a factor in devolution.  Yet the thrust is meet, and must be met.

Jones’ preceding paragraph  reports, from the same article, Freud’s view that “the prevailing sexual morality of civilization  is characterized by the transference of feminine demands  on to the sexual life of the man” (though on the next page he avers that “women suffer more than men from the prevailing morality” -- the apparent contradiction  is never addressed), which “leads to a double moral life, with evil consequences”.  In that context,  I at first assumed  that Freud was referring to garden-variety marital fidelity.  And that, surely, is immune from Darwinian attack:  the appalling consequences of agamy in our barrios and ghettoes  are apparent to all.  Now, I have not actually read Freud’s article -- unaccountably, that issue of Mutterschutz is missing from my shelves (probably one of the pesky neighborhood boys  has made off with it) -- but I venture to suggest that he may have had in mind an idea that grew to prominence in his later years, the years of Totem und Tabu:  the scenario of the alpha male, lording it over his harem, infusing their wombs with his übermensch übergenes, while his less-fit cousins and brothers circle, snarling, just outside of the firelight.
Now, if the highest pitch of your ambition  is to hunt the mastodon,  such a scheme might well work;  certainly, it works for walruses.  But if you set your sights higher -- on the Gospels, on Paradise Lost, on the Riemann Hypothesis -- you need a system maximally protective and nurturing of each individual offspring, since the monogamous couple’s offspring are so few;  a goal favored in that now each child has both a dedicated-mommy and dedicated-daddy, schooling him daily in Scripture and in analytic number theory.   This happy scenario  does not refute the truths of Darwinism, but simply sublates them, or transcends them:  for we, cognitively alert and free-willed beings, have other goals, not shared by the newts and toads, for whom Darwin is surely good enough.


*     *     *
~ Commercial break ~
We now return you to your regularly scheduled essay.

*     *     *
[And now to the original essay.]

~     ~      ~

It would ill become me, as if I were afraid of truth of any kind, to blame those who pursue secular facts, by means of the reason which God has given them, to their logical conclusions;  or to be angry with science  because religion is bound to take cognizance of its teaching.
-- John Henry Newman, Apologia pro Vita Sua (1864)


In Philosophy: a Very Short Introduction (2002), Edward Craig writes (p. 92):

 For Descartes, human reason was a faculty  given to us  and guaranteed by God … and that was why he could rely on it to tell us about the essential nature of mind and matter ... What if, instead , he had thought of it as a natural instrument which had developed because, and to the extent that [emphasis in original], it gave its possessors a competitive advantage over those without it?  Would he then have supposed that what it appeared to tell us on such matters could, with complete confidence, be taken as the truth?

This challenge is absolutely valid.  On this basis, we should, indeed, do as Descartes did, and call everything -- all our beliefs, absolutely everything -- into question.  Yet alas, now without the Cartesian certainty that our Idea of the Perfect must come from The Perfect, Himself.  Epistemologically, we are much humbled. We are sweaty, dust-caked survival machines -- that has been shown -- much like the cockroach and the rat.  Are we anything else as well ?

At this point, some despair, and take to drunkenness or drugs or Postmodernism (I cite these in descending order of worthlessness).

And yet, when we look about the landscape, we find something unexpected, unexplained, and entirely surprising:

  =>  ~ ~ ~  the Urysohn Metrization Theorem ~ ~ ~ <=

along with all the other truths of abstract mathematics: truths that are seen to be true, by anyone with wit enough to see them; truths not relativized to space or to time, to culture or to … species.  If the Humble Woodchuck should ever make it as far as point-set topology, he too will discover , and celebrate,  this truth.

Its survival value:   Zero.
What gives?

Well, we don’t know what gives, but something does.   We have a stark staring ideational miracle in our midst, something no-wise selected for, something simply True.
Now, it is no contradiction to Darwinism to posit that, quite independently of the brute world ever evolving and evolving, to no purpose and upon no plan, there might be a world apart, of Platonic forms, or celestial calliopes, or whatever you will.   What does contradict Darwinism -- fly in the face of it, knock its socks off -- is our repeated and reliable ability to discover this World of Forms, again and again struggling through jungles of calculation and conception, to arrive, from different directions, at the same ice-crowned mountain.  A World of Forms of no use at all  in escaping the sabre-tooth, whose bite is so fierce, or in hunting the mighty mastodon.
Though, let us hasten to add, among the facts that attest to the reality of these abstract truths, is that, in recent times, these have manifested themselves, not only in the clear understanding of minds suitably prepared, but in sheer physical engineering :  our spacecraft land where we want them to, and our nuclear power plants generate useful energy, owing to applications of our understanding of these Forms.

And if this be true, might it likewise be, that our insights and intuitions about our Maker, at first dimly conceived, but gradually taking form across the millennia, and finally developed to a state of great excellence by the finest minds in Christendom -- might it be that  these too  contain their share of truth?

~

Notice that, despite what we repeatedly read about the advance of science undermining the foundations of faith, we are now intellectually in a much better position to appreciate what it might mean for there to be a God who is the maker of

     visibilium omnium et invisibilium

-- all things visible and invisible -- than was Aquinas. 


[Update:  I had the sense, writing this, of committing a certain hardihood;  yet just now  happened upon the following passage, by a Jesuit of impeccable credentials:

Intellectual virtues may be an essential aspect of our existence, and prepare us for what is revealed.
-- James Schall, S.J., The Order of Things (2007), p. 198 ]

~

Note:  Despite possible appearances to the contrary, nothing on this blog should be taken as an attack upon Darwinism, or even a critique.  Charles Darwin himself is  for me  an intellectual and even a moral hero, who just gets better  the more you learn about him.  The whole field of evolutionary biology has been characterized by remarkably brilliant practitioners, who in addition are often philosophically alert.  The appearances-to-the-contrary stem from the accidental facts that,
            (a) You don’t need me to expound the findings of this fine science, since there are easily available volumes from writers far more professionally qualified, and who, by happy circumstance, are in many cases quite gifted writers, simply as writers:  Darwin himself, Steven Jay Gould, Richard Dawkins, H. Allen Orr, in writings too numerous to mention, along with excellent though lesser-known figures like D’Arcy Thompson, George Gaylord Simpson, J.B.S. Haldane, Ernst Mayr, Matt Ridley, Paul Colinvaux, Richard Fortey, George Williams, and John Maynard Smith.
            (b) With Darwinism, just as with any scientific idea in fashion, starting with atomism, magnetism, radiation, vortices, relativity, quantum mechanics, and even some mathematical ones like point-set topology and nonlinear dynamics, there have been some fanciful overreaching and stupid abuses  in attempts to apply these ideas to things to which they do not apply, mostly in the popular media.   With these I feel the need to break a lance, particularly when their agenda is to reduce those created in the image of God, to the level of cockroaches.  But the tick that feeds upon the rump of Pegasus, in no wise lessens the majesty of that noble steed.

~

A word on the … evolution (not by natural selection) of our ideas about science and about theology.
In both cases, if, naïvely, we thumb through some books and behold what our distant ancestors used to believe, we gape and gasp.   And in the perspective -- long regnant, but by now adequately criticized -- of the Whig Theory of History, those poor old dotards were simply clueless.
If, however, we examine the matter with more study and attention, we learn that the best minds of Antiquity and of the Middle Ages  were a lot smarter than our shallow understanding of their doctrines  would imply. 
For science, this post-Whig re-evaluation has been ably and painstakingly carried out by a distinguished body of historians and philosophers.  For theology -- I really don’t know;  but I do recall  that C.S. Lewis says somewhere that the old folk-images  tended to be held until some historical juncture causes them to be actually examined:  in which cases the Historical Church proved generally capable of refining its conceptions and language. Yet -- a subtle point, but crucial -- this replacement of the traditional image  is a dialectical sublation, and no mere negation.  Even from the standpoint of our modern and more nuanced understanding, the original idea, while dethroned, is yet in a sense  preserved -- aufgehoben.  Thus, the image of Jehovah as a tribal patriarch with a long white beard, sending down laws on stone tablets  and speaking, should occasion demand it, from a burning bush, remains yet a more faithful and more fruitful symbol, a more adequate gateway to eventual fuller comprehension, than would the alternative representation, as, say, a black-face minstrel, or a used-car salesman in a bow tie.  True, He is ultimately none of these three; but he participates of one of them  more than he does the others (proportionate to our understanding).

In science, it is the same.  You’ll hear it said that the Copernican heliocentric theory was resisted because
            (a) it “demoted the earth from its privileged position at the center”;
            (b) the Bible declares that Earth is stationary.

The efforts of the debunkers have decisively refuted (a) -- Craig himself has a good short summary of their findings -- but just a word about (b), since for some reason, philosophers of science are less eager to come to the rescue of the Bible.  True, it takes the Earth as stationary.  And so, by the bye, does any modern scientist in his right mind, when solving any practical problem such as the trajectory of a shell or a baseball:  the pitcher lobs it due south at x miles per hour;  the bat strikes it, traveling due north with such&such momentum; the wind is from the northeast at eighteen miles per hour, and the Earth… is stationary.  You do not factor in the sweep of this green planet round the Sun, nor Sol’s more stately wheeling along the rim of our spinning galaxy, nor that nebula’s proper motion through the celestial void, a vagrant among the observing unspeaking witness of the Fixed Stars -- which, as we now know, are not fixed in the least;  it’s just a manner of speaking.

~

A note on that last proviso, “proportionate to our understanding”.  This is actually a key idea.

By chance, I just now happened to re-read a most amusing poem from 1913, by Rupert Brooke, entitled “Heaven”.  Here he depicts fish, contemplating the afterlife:

somewhere, beyond Space and Time,
is wetter water, slimier slime!

and they imagine their unimaginable Maker,

immense, of fishy form and mind,
squamous, omnipotent, and kind

-- along with much more in this vein.
Now, this is satire, possibly even intended to be offensive;  yet let us take no offense.  Rather, the poem expresses a truth, from whatever base motivations.  For we are each, each species, but a small and finite part of the visible Creation;  which in turn is only an infinitessimal part, of the Creator.   We each receive, and cherish, such tatters and fragments of truth as we may.  And let Saint Francis be my witness: I doubt not, indeed, I do not doubt, that whither those fishes are destined, they shall find water  wetter than wet; that the celestial penguins shall throne upon ice-floes frozen to perfection, immutable; and that the sweet small vole, that dwelleth in the fields, shall … dwell there forever:  World without end.