Jazz star Bobby Ball sees the future when he plays his sax. The music of his dying idol, Omar Wild, throws open the door to tomorrow, but Bobby doesn't like what he sees. A faded torch singer will die unless Bobby plays an impossible song, one that reveals the secrets of a terrible crime. One that will force him to go solo in a race against time and the fight of his life. Even if he plays like there's no tomorrow, can he save yesterday's brightest star from today's darkest evil? Or will the biggest number of his career also be his last? Don't miss this exciting tale by award-winning storyteller Robert T. Jeschonek, a master of unique and unexpected dark fantasy and horror that really packs a punch.
This magisterial reflection on the history and destiny of the West compares Greco-Roman civilization and the Judeo-Christian tradition in order to understand what both unites and divides them. Mediation, understood as a collective, symbolic experience, gives society unity and meaning, putting human beings in contact with a universal object known as the world or reality. But unity has a price: the very force that enables peaceful coexistence also makes us prone to conflict. As a result, in order to find a common point of convergence—of at-one-ment—someone must be sacrificed. Sacrifice, then, is the historical pillar of mediation. It was endorsed in a cosmic-religious sense in antiquity and rejected for ethical reasons in modernity, where the Judeo-Christian tradition plays an intermediate role in condemning sacrificial violence as such, while accepting sacrifice as a voluntary act offered to save other human beings. Today, as we face the collapse of all shared mediations, this intermediating solution offers a way out of our moral and cultural plight.
The role of law in government has been increasingly scrutinized as courts struggle with controversial topics such as assisted suicide, euthanasia, abortion, capital punishment, and torture. Reflections on Life, Death, and the Constitution explores such issues by using classical standards of morality as a starting point for understanding them. Drawing on works of literature and philosophy, and on U.S. Supreme Court decisions, George Anastaplo examines the intimate relationship between human nature and constitutional law.
This magisterial reflection on the history and destiny of the West compares Greco-Roman civilization and the Judeo-Christian tradition in order to understand what both unites and divides them. Mediation, understood as a collective, symbolic experience, gives society unity and meaning, putting human beings in contact with a universal object known as the world or reality. But unity has a price: the very force that enables peaceful coexistence also makes us prone to conflict. As a result, in order to find a common point of convergence—of at-one-ment—someone must be sacrificed. Sacrifice, then, is the historical pillar of mediation. It was endorsed in a cosmic-religious sense in antiquity and rejected for ethical reasons in modernity, where the Judeo-Christian tradition plays an intermediate role in condemning sacrificial violence as such, while accepting sacrifice as a voluntary act offered to save other human beings. Today, as we face the collapse of all shared mediations, this intermediating solution offers a way out of our moral and cultural plight.
“Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.” Dennis R. MacDonald offers a provocative explanation of those scandalous words of Christ from the Fourth Gospel—an explanation that he argues would hardly have surprised some of the Gospel’s early readers. John sounds themes that would have instantly been recognized as proper to the Greek god Dionysos (the Roman Bacchus), not least as he was depicted in Euripides’s play The Bacchae. A divine figure, the offspring of a divine father and human mother, takes on flesh to live among mortals, but is rejected by his own. He miraculously provides wine and offers it as a sacred gift to his devotees, women prominent among them, dies a violent death—and returns to life. Yet John takes his drama in a dramatically different direction: while Euripides’s Dionysos exacts vengeance on the Theban throne, the Johannine Christ offers life to his followers. MacDonald employs mimesis criticism to argue that the earliest Evangelist not only imitated Euripides but expected his readers to recognize Jesus as greater than Dionysos.
This book argues that The Birth of Tragedy, Nietzsche's first book, does not mark a rupture with his prior philosophical undertakings but is, in fact, continuous with them and with his later writings as well. It shows that many of the book's elements are reminiscent of Nietzsche's earlier revisions of philology and anticipate the later writings.
In John 6:51-59, John describes the Eucharist of Jesus by modeling Dionysus. In particular, John 6:53, "unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you" is one of the most difficult verses found anywhere in the Bible. To explain this, a new approach is needed when one consistently contemplates why John uses flesh (σάρξ) instead of body (σῶμα), and "This is my flesh", instead of "This is my body." The Dionysiac ritual of eating and tearing raw flesh shows cannibalistic elements. Unlike other negative descriptions of cannibalism in ancient literature, Dionysus is described as both an eater and a giver of raw flesh. By reevaluating the negative term of cannibalism, John positively applies this Dionysiac cannibalism to the Eucharistic words in 6:51-59. Because emphatically and slightly ironically, scholars' arguments show that John 6 is still a "hard teaching" of Jesus, Jesus' hard saying (6:60) is a consequence of this cannibalistic language and the ambiguous features of Dionysus.
The Roman practice of crucifixion was so abhorrent that even the Romans didn't talk about it. Yet their government practiced crucifixion for centuries. What drew the crowds to the killing fields to watch people die such torturous deaths? What enabled those elite soldiers in the Roman killing squads to crucify their victims with the precision and skill of a hospital surgeon? These and many other questions are answered in this book. Of the thousands of people who fell victim to "the most pitiable of deaths," one is much better known than all the others--Jesus of Nazareth. Most Christians know something of Jesus' crucifixion because of the Gospel narratives, but to enhance our appreciation of the Savior's death, we benefit by knowing more about Roman crucifixion. Roman Crucifixion and the Death of Jesus provides a deeper understanding of how, where, and why someone could be crucified and helps to inform us of Jesus' crucifixion. Armed with a better grasp of Roman crucifixion, we can more fully appreciate Jesus' pain, his purpose, and his prayers from Calvary's cross.
Are the Jewish arguments against belief in Jesus as mankind's Savior any good? Is Jesus Christ the promised Messiah of the Old Testament's prophecies? Is Christianity derived from ancient Roman or Greek pagan mystery religions? Is the New Testament historically reliable? Was Jesus of Nazareth God according to the New Testament? Did Gnosticism influence Christianity? Since some 185,000 Americans have converted to Judaism according to a 1990 survey, the arguments of such groups as Jews for Judaism against Christianity can't be dismissed lightly. Using solid scholarship and rigorous logic, A Zeal For God Not According to Knowledge defends Christianity against the arguments of its Jewish critics, such as Samuel Levine, Michoel Drazin, Tovia Singer, and Hyam Maccoby. This book demonstrates that the New Testament is historically reliable, denies that Christian doctrines and sacraments can be derived from pagan beliefs and practices, shows that Jesus of Nazareth was the promised Messiah based on the Old Testament's prophecies, and proves that the New Testament teaches the Deity of Christ. This book is intended for both Christians perplexed by the arguments of Jewish friends, coworkers, and relatives, and Jews interested in objectively considering the claims of Christianity while searching for spiritual truth about whether Jesus is their Messiah also.
This book casts new light on the work of the German poet Friedrich Hölderlin (1770 – 1843), and his translations of Greek tragedy. It shows Hölderlin’s poetry is unique within Western literature (and art) as it retrieves the socio-politics of a Dionysiac space-time and language to challenge the estrangement of humans from nature and one other. In this book, author Lucas Murrey presents a new picture of ancient Greece, noting that money emerged and rapidly developed there in the sixth century B.C. This act of monetization brought with it a concept of tragedy: money-tyrants struggling against the forces of earth and community who succumb to individual isolation, blindness and death. As Murrey points out, Hölderlin (unconsciously) retrieves the battle between money, nature and community and creatively applies its lessons to our time. But Hölderlin’s poetry not only adapts tragedy to question the unlimited “machine process” of “a clever race” of money-tyrants. It also draws attention to Greece’s warnings about the mortal danger of the eyes in myth, cult and theatre. This monograph thus introduces an urgently needed vision not only of Hölderlin hymns, but also the relevance of disciplines as diverse as Literary Studies, Philosophy, Psychology (Psychoanalysis) as well as Religious and Visual (Media) Studies to our present predicament, where a dangerous visual culture, through its support of the unlimitedness of money, is harming our relation to nature and one another. “Here triumphs a temperament guided by ancient religion and that excavates, in Hölderlin’s translations, the central god Dionysus of Greek tragedy.” “Lucas Murrey shares with his subject, Hölderlin, a vision of the Greeks as bringing something vitally important into our poor world, a vision of which few classical scholars are now capable.” —Richard Seaford, author of Money and the Early Greek Mind and Dionysus. “Here triumphs a temperament guided by ancient religion and that excavates, in Hölderlin’s translations, the central god Dionysus of Greek tragedy.” —Bernhard Böschenstein, author of “Frucht des Gewitters”. Zu Hölderlins Dionysos als Gott der Revolution and Paul Celan: Der Meridian. “Lucas Murrey takes the god of tragedy, Dionysus, finally serious as a manifestation of the ecstatic scream of liberation and visual strategies of dissolution: he pleasantly portrays Hölderlin’s idiosyncratic poetic sympathy.” —Anton Bierl, author of Der Chor in der Alten Komödie. Ritual and Performativität “Hölderlin most surely deserved such a book.” —Jean-François Kervégan, author of Que faire de Carl Schmitt? “...fascinating material...” —Noam Chomsky, author of Media Control and Nuclear War and Environmental Catastrophe.
