Over the weekend an article from The Economist [link] surfaced in my news feed that mentioned the death of Nazario Moreno, until recently the head of La Familia/La Familia Michoacán [link], a drug gang noted partly for their brutality and partly for their embracing of the works of American evangelical writer John Eldredge [link]. Eldredge for his part does not return their admiration, as articles on the connection take varying degrees of care to state [link, link, link]. In its simplest form, the relationship between La Familia and Eldredge goes like this: Moreno was both a professed Christian and a drug lord, read at least one of Eldredge’s books on what is sometimes called “muscular Christianity,” appropriated at least some of Eldredge’s concept of the Christian man as a (dominating) man of action, and applied it to his chosen field of work as drug lord with brutal consequences.

For the record I don’t think this one little point necessarily means my analysis of the Mexican Drug War is better or worse than Newhham’s: I think he suggests that some sort of Christian revival would end the drug war; I’d be inclined to claim that it wouldn’t if the various believers involved in the revival didn’t leave and resist the drug trade. I mean, I don’t really believe anyone can be both a Christian and a drug lord, but I’m not sure I’d make that claim foundational to my soteriology.

Also, for the record, the modern “muscular Christianity” shares a name and some characteristics with a Victorian movement [link], but the two aren’t closely related: one was primarily a mainline Protestant phenomenon, the other is primarily evangelical/nondenominational. There’s probably no good reason to bring up Tom Brown at Oxford when discussing e.g. Mark Driscoll. Teddy Roosevelt yes, Mark Driscoll no.

Various authors have taken Eldredge to task for recasting God in his own image and for presenting a loosely-defined “biblical manhood” that doesn’t really start or end with the Gospel. From having read a couple of his books (Wild at Heart and The Journey of Desire) I think I’d have to suggest that Eldredge also tends to adopt biblical stories that are historical as illustrative without good reason. Of the three points mine’s probably the palest.

Anyway, the strange case of Nazario Moreno gives me pause; it seems crazy on its face to read books on biblical masculinity and apply the lessons learned to running a drug gang, but honestly I have a hard time seeing it as anything other than a weird isotope of Jesus CEO [link].

I’m currently listening to Moby Dick, and while the Librivox reader is doing a fantastic job, I end up missing bits of the story, because Melville keeps going off on tangents and I lose where we’re up to. Not that he doesn’t admit this lack of narrative within the text, but I can’t help wishing he’d written two books, one on the art and craft of whaling, whales, and everything to do with them, and one with the story of Captain Ahab and Moby Dick. I suppose Ishmael could come along for the ride too. (I really amn’t that keen on the narrator.)

Or maybe, since it seems to me to be what he really wanted to do, a book on whaling, with the straight story as an appendix, and a good contents page at the beginning, and index at the end, so that when one wants to read a discourse on how well artists of different countries represent whaling, one could go to that, rather than arresting the tale once again.

One of the things that is keeping me interested (far more than the story or the tangents) is trying to work out Ishmael. He keeps sounding like the standard 19th century bigot, and then turning out to be fairly open minded. I don’t particularly like him, but he is interesting, if annoying.

Dorothy Dunnett, unlike Melville, does not give you information that is unnecessary for the story. In fact, a lot of the time a whole lot more would be useful, even than what you end up working out by the end of the book, series, or canon. Which is part of why I’m enjoying this slow reread of Niccolo Rising. Chapter 8 is only the first time we’re going to wonder exactly what Tobie overheard in the sickroom.

And while we’re discussing books I’m part-way through, I really loved Tom’s attempts to row alone in chapter two of Tom Brown at Oxford. I am competent, if completely lacking in style, at sculling alone myself, and could readily imagine his exploits, which had me in fits of laughter.

There are a couple more books in progress, but I think they’ll be fine being discussed in their entirety.

As for the cotton, I’m considering making a tablecloth out of a whole variety of motifs, pieced together. I’m sure I’d get bored doing enough of the same ones for a whole cloth, but a variety could work.