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Category: history

The Papal Visit

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As we traveled through Great Britain, it was soon evident that the upcoming papal visit was a hot topic.  Our tour guides commented on it, and from Scotland to England we heard about how the head of the Roman Catholic Church was coming to the United Kingdom by royal invitation for the first time.  The building next to our hotel in London proudly displayed the flag of the Vatican City and was bedecked with yellow and white streamers, and each edition of the London Evening Standard during the time we were there had a story on the pope on the front page.

Of course the event fomented much controversy.  Many objected to the pope’s coming, but the fact remains that he came, and that alone is significant.  Every time I heard or saw an allusion to it, I thought about how Catholics have often been persecuted in Great Britain since the time of Henry VIII, and how ridiculous it would have been in past years for the head of the Catholic Church to set foot in the land where the Church of England held sway.  Such a thing would never have happened, and demonstrates how ecumenical people of all denominations—even traditionally conservative Catholics—have become.  After all, if it doesn’t matter what church you belong to, even once-hostile Anglicans and Catholics can unite.

Codex Alexandrinus

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Codex Alexandrinus

Of the many significant documents on display at the British Library, Codex Alexandrinus does not catch the eye. There are no illuminations, no gold leaf or fancy calligraphy. All that it presents to the viewer is line upon line of uncial Greek text. Nevertheless, to me this document stood out from all the others, both because it was written in Greek, and because of its great significance in New Testament textual criticism. It is remarkable because it contains nearly all of the Septuagint and New Testament, unlike most other surviving Greek texts, and it is quite old, having been written in the fifth century.

The codex was open to the Book of Psalms, and as I read those ancient words of praise to God, I thought about how they were written in a time when Greek was still commonly spoken, and in a time when, perhaps, the scene of “Christianity” was a little less confusing than it is now. I was also struck by the precision of the lines and letters, and it was very evident that the scribe whose hand copied those sacred lines truly had concern for accuracy in regard to the Word of God—something that many people today care little about.

Black, Yellow and Red

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As we entered the Royal Museum of Fine Art, it was on the right wall. Not quite a mural, but big enough to be one in a smaller building, it illustrated in vivid colour and motion a grave struggle. On the left side, a general rides up, amid the chaos of yelling soldiers, a barking dog, a drummer boy, and women trying to aid the wounded. Somewhat above this, a man holds out a paper that is being refused by those to whom it is offered. And at the very top can be seen the Belgian flag, which although it had been torn in battle, is still being held up by the young standard-bearers.

This painting apparently illustrates an important point in the 19th century Belgian war for independence—an event upon which I am sadly uninformed. But despite my ignorance, as I studied this huge work of art I was struck by the patriotism and emotion that it portrayed, and I became mindful of the sort of feeling that Belgians must have when they see the black, yellow and red tricolor on the wind. Being from Texas, for me red, white and blue are the patriotic colours, whether for the state or for the country. And being from such a large country, I think Americans may sometimes forget that citizens of other nations are just as patriotic towards their own homelands as we are towards ours—perhaps we are just a little ethnocentric.

Episode of the September Days 1830 on the Grand Place of Brussels

Gustaf WAPPERS

The Importance of Genealogy

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My parents talking to my grandpa at the cemetery in Tyrone, OklahomaAs I write, I am travelling home through the panhandle of Texas after a full weekend spent with my relatives on my father’s side of the family. It’s been two years since our last family reunion, and this one was particularly special because it was held in the region where that family is from, and where my father and grandpa were born: Liberal, Kansas and Tyrone, Oklahoma. I can’t really say that the Bruces originated there, however. They lived in Springtown, Texas before then (which happens to be in my home county of Parker), from which place they travelled north by covered wagon to their new home in the Oklahoma panhandle. And before that, the family lived in Tennessee, and before that they were in North Carolina, and before that, somewhere in Europe (my unproved Internet sources tell me Languedoc, France). But regardless, it is in Texas County, Oklahoma, that the old Bruce home place may be found, as well as the old Bowers house. And it is that land that holds the most memories for my grandpa and his siblings who were our guides to the past during this weekend.

During the past two years since the last family reunion, one of my great aunts has been working on a book, which has been completed and was presented during this reunion. It is entitled Baby Turkeys in the Oven, and is a compilation of stories from my great grandpa’s family, as well as a good deal of genealogy. I have only had a chance to glance through it so far, but it promises to be very interesting and informative. A very unique quilt was also presented, the centre of which was a large, white five-pointed star. This represented my great grandpa and great grandma, E. F. and Geraldine Bruce. I knew Grandma Bruce in her old age, when she was living with my great aunt. By that time she had become like a small child—she couldn’t remember or say much, but she loved playing with her dolls. Even so, I am glad that I was able to see her before she passed on. Grandpa Bruce, on the other hand, died in the 1970s, before I was even born. Read More

Navigating the Rippy Branch

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This week I was set free from the university because of the Thanksgiving holiday, so I was able to travel home to Texas and spend time with my family. Today was the last day of this break since my sister and I are heading back tomorrow, so today my father and I went to Lake Mineral Wells State Park in western Parker County to go canoeing. I wish I had pictures to show for it, but we didn’t bother about taking the camera with us this time, so I shall have to describe it with words.

Lake Mineral Wells, like most lakes in our grand state, has only existed since a more linear waterway was dammed up by people who needed drinking water. It was the fortune of Rock Creek to be dammed in 1918, so that the folks across the county line in Mineral Wells could use it as a water supply. It’s a nice enough lake, as lakes go, but we were bound for Rock Creek, since floating around a lake in a canoe is simply not as interesting as navigating a creek or a river.

There were some kind folks who allowed us to embark from their campsite along the lake, and from there we headed across the short distance to the mouth of the creek. We had some difficulty with the stiff wind blowing us repeatedly into a stand of ominous cattails, but we finally made it into the creek, where the water was more tranquil. The last time I had been up Rock Creek was in the summer, so now in the late fall things were hardly as vibrant as I remembered them. Read More