Maggie's Farm

Story here.

Photo of Dr. Bob's grave in Akron, from the story.

We finished up yesterday with a performance of Figaro by the Chelsea Opera in their usual space, St. Peter's Episcopal Church on W. 20th St. Just wonderful to be so close up to the sorts of remarkable singers small opera companies can get in NYC. I have decided that I prefer this sort of thing to the Met or the New York City Opera - and it is not just the price.

Lorenzo da Ponte was the librettist for Le Nozze di Figaro, Don Giovanni and Così fan tutte. A Jewish convert to Catholicism, it is said that he hated the RC Church as much as Mozart did, but I am not certain of that from a Mozart who said “Protestantism was all in the head.” Da Ponte was a priest for a while, and a famous scoundrel, debtor, womanizer, and MILF-predator.

Another cool factoid: St. Peter's was built in 1836 on farm land donated by Clement Moore who became Warden and organist for the church. The Moore family had a good-sized estate there, which was named "Chelsea." Moore also donated the land on which General Theological Seminary still stands, a few blocks away. St. Peter's is a fine old church but a bit down at the heels:

Luke 7:36-8:3

7:36 One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee's house and took his place at the table.

7:37 And a woman in the city, who was a sinner, having learned that he was eating in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabaster jar of ointment.

7:38 She stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair. Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment.

7:39 Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw it, he said to himself, "If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him--that she is a sinner."

7:40 Jesus spoke up and said to him, "Simon, I have something to say to you." "Teacher," he replied, "Speak."

7:41 "A certain creditor had two debtors; one owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty.

7:42 When they could not pay, he canceled the debts for both of them. Now which of them will love him more?"

7:43 Simon answered, "I suppose the one for whom he canceled the greater debt." And Jesus said to him, "You have judged rightly."

7:44 Then turning toward the woman, he said to Simon, "Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair.

7:45 You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet.

7:46 You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment.

7:47 Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little."

7:48 Then he said to her, "Your sins are forgiven."

7:49 But those who were at the table with him began to say among themselves, "Who is this who even forgives sins?"

7:50 And he said to the woman, "Your faith has saved you; go in peace."

8:1 Soon afterwards he went on through cities and villages, proclaiming and bringing the good news of the kingdom of God. The twelve were with him,

8:2 as well as some women who had been cured of evil spirits and infirmities: Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out,

8:3 and Joanna, the wife of Herod's steward Chuza, and Susanna, and many others, who provided for them out of their resources.

Recessional

God of our fathers, known of old--
   Lord of our far-flung battle line
Beneath whose awful hand we hold
   Dominion over palm and pine--
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget - lest we forget!

The tumult and the shouting dies;
   The captains and the kings depart:
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
   An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget - lest we forget!

Far-called, our navies melt away;
   On dune and headland sinks the fire:
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
   Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget - lest we forget!

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
   Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe--
Such boasting as the Gentiles use
   Or lesser breeds without the law--
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget - lest we forget!

For heathen heart that puts her trust
   In reeking tube and iron shard--
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
   And guarding, calls not Thee to guard--
For frantic boast and foolish word,
Thy mercy on Thy people, Lord!

Posted today because Driscoll recently linked Derbyshire's 2002 post on Kipling's poem which had been written for the 1897 Diamond Jubilee of Queen Victoria. Many do not know that Kipling later became a resident of Vermont for many years.

Our friend Gregory (aka Sippican) is doing just that: Quiet, Numskulls, I'm Broadcastin'

From our friend Nathan in the future JerusaLand:

Business Flash.

Dateline: The City formerly known as Jerusalem

In a shocking market coup, former Disney CEO, Michael Eisner, has been awarded the 99-year lease for Jerusalem, outbidding Jews and Palestinians.

“I am delighted, like I am in heaven, almost,” Eisner elated. “We pulled an all-nighter, God’s team and ours, but came out with the best deal for Him, a lucrative, exclusive contract for Disney, and Family Fun For All.”

God’s representative, C.O.A (Chief Operating Angel) Gabriel Raphael, added, “That Michael. Eisner has the first name of an archangel had no bearings on the negotiations: the deal was struck on its merits: the best price for God and a history of Disney’s fine management.  Our C.E.O, whose name we do not use in vain, has had concern about management of this city, since Kollek was retired.  We had handsome offers from the Vatican, Dubai, and Jimmy Carter, but our CEO is not in this for the money and we were searching for a manager and corporation with a reputation for excellent, consistent customer service.  Based on market research, we have counted more smiles and a child-friendlier atmosphere at Disney than at churches, mosques and synagogues, or at Carter’s lectures.”  God was not available for comment and messages were not returned. 

Eisner effused, “After an international naming contest on Inter-American Idols, we are renaming the city, “JerusaLand,” City on the Hill, Fun-Town for All.  Runners up were “Jewro-Disney” and “Mickey’s Heaven.”

“This is a new era for JerusaLand,” Eisner ebullianated.  Since there are already only two entrances to the city, there will be entrance fees covering all events within, with VIP packages additional.  No money will be used by tourists: everyone can buy Holy-Gelt chips, like Club Med, but without the Mediterranean nor sand.  Everyone living in the city will be employees of JerusaLand Corp., International.  We are professionalizing the beggars,” he continuated. “Everyone now begging, will be an employee of JerusaLand, and will be uniformed in historically authentic beggars’ tatters from the various eras. You can give Holy-Gelt chips to a beggar from Jebusite, or King David’s era, or Roman right up to the present, knowing that each beggar will turn in his chips at the end of the workday for a salary and benefits. We will have an incentive system for all employees, including beggars, with vacations to EuroDisney or Disney World.  Beggars will be promoted based on performance, with areas near the Western Wall as prime.”  Eisner notated that any Beggar-employees caught praying at the Western Wall, then requesting charity from others for their prayers, will be restationed by the Dung Gate.  “Prayer will be free, no charge, in JeruseLand!  This, the Big Guy insisted on.” Eisner enunciated.

“You will notice,” Eisner persisticated, “that we have renamed this the Western Wall: wailing is not permitted.  Other activities, such as shuckling, dancing, spinning and bobbing are encouraged. We will have rides, including a praying roller coaster that while not the highest ever built, will be the holiest: imagine getting closer to God while looping the loop on the holiest mount.”

“And if that isn’t close enough to God,” Eisner emphasated, “We have an introductory package that includes DirectLine.  For only fifty cents a minute children can use the Red Phone to talk with God!” When asked about the very reasonable price, Eisner pointed out that this was a local call.  “God has specified that he will only talk with children, as they seem to hear what he says better.”  (This reporter was able to use the service and can ascertain that God speaks with a Viennese accent, and responds with “Uh, huh.” Yesss,” and “Vat do you make of zet?”)  Videophone service – called MosesPhone -- for those reclined, is planned in the future.

“We have specialty packages, for instance for Cohens.  Since they can’t mount the Mount until the Temple is rebuilt, we have a hover-craft package, called Lift-a-Cohen (or, Coney–on-the-Spot) so that they can float over Aaron’s spots.”

Our planting and transplanting season is now done, as is my anniversary gift to Mrs. BD which entailed two solid weekend days of being a submissive garden slave, taking all orders with shovel, wheelbarrow, trimmers, saws, mulch, and the final load of plantings. Beer breaks and a couple of ceegars, natch. I am the brawn, she is the brains.

Transplanting shrubs and perennials is like musical chairs. There is always at least one thing that ends up with no place to go, and is left to die, roots up in the sun. Murder.

Mrs. BD has been getting interested in putting dwarf shrubs in perennial borders in recent years. In this bed, we had moved some hybrid Rhodies out two months ago, and moved those lacecap hydrangeas back against the wall (they will revive just fine, but look a little wan right now). That left a hole for these three new red-leafed dwarf Weigelas to the left of the dwarf Buddleas. It will all fill in nicely in a year or so with the goal, of course, being no space between plants for weeds to grow:

The edge is Lady's Mantle, in full bloom. It makes a solid and subtle perennial edge with its pale yellow-green florets.

Here's one site with dwarf Weigelas.

Good place to stop when passing through Reading, PA: The Mid-Atlantic Air Museum.

Tight Connection to My Heart (Has Anybody Seen My Love?), from Empire Burlesque, 1985

Sample of the lyrics:

Well, they're not showing any lights tonight
And there's no moon
There's just a hot-blooded singer
Singing 'Memphis in June'
And they're beating the devil out of a guy
Who's wearing a powder-blue wig
Later he'll be shot
For resisting arrest
I can still hear his voice crying
In the wilderness
What looks large from a distance
Close up ain't never that big.

I never could learn to drink that blood
And call it wine
I never could learn to hold you, love
And call you mine.

The music video here.

Mitch Daniels: Ride Along with Mitch

Kuhn on the O's tipping point:

At some point, the bad show also goes on too long. Negative perceptions of the character are formed. That's the tipping point. And it's possible, but not necessarily probable, that Obama's point has already come to pass.

Jobs report a nightmare for Obama progressivism

Senate showdown over EPA power grab

This could get to be fun: CARLY FIORINA on Her Impressive Record, Sean Hannity & Barbara Boxer’s Hair

Shaidle: Toronto’s Love of Diversity Is Tested by Islamists

Genetics of Jews. Still Semitic.

Days after being caught cropping photos for political effect, Reuters releases a photo bank of Hamas propaganda images from Gaza.

From Coyote:

...here is a sure fire test for a progressive.  If given a choice between two worlds:

1. A capitalist society where the overall levels of wealth and technology continue to increase, though in a pattern that is dynamic, chaotic, generally unpredictable, and whose rewards are unevenly distributed, or…


2. A “progressive” society where everyone is poorer, but income is generally more evenly distributed.  In this society, jobs and pay and industries change only very slowly, and people have good assurances that they will continue to have what they have today, with little downside but also with very little upside.

Progressives will choose #2.  Even if it means everyone is poorer.  Even if it cuts off any future improvements we might gain in technology or wealth or lifespan or whatever.  They want to take what we have today, divide it up more equally, and then live to eternity with just that. 

We posted our morning links last night. Just this for now, from Henninger:

Coming as it did on the heels of various other government fiascoes and embarrassments—the subsidized-mortgage crisis, ethanol, California issuing IOUs, Bernie Madoff, ultra-deep public debt, infrastructure turning to dust everywhere—the Gulf mess is the moment for the American people to reconsider just what they think government can do, or should do.

When not gripped by hysteria, many have a more rational view of government's limits, even on the left. Some in the Gulf do-something chorus are the same people who doubted that the U.S. military could succeed in Iraq or Afghanistan. But the U.S. military is surely the most competent instrument of government.

Consider, if you have not done so, adding a comment to today's Grandpa post. We'll make it an annual repost, a website Keepsake.

How we think our forager ancestors lived. Like hippies, shared women and shared food.

Ask a (science) Nobel Laureate. Cool. My question: Are numbers a real reflection of reality, or just a handy human invention?

Meg Whitman will be the next gov of California. But is the job do-able with a Dem legislature?

Hating Christianity Is Nothing New for Progressives. Always wondered how the Left managed to portray Hitler as a "right-winger" when he was a socialist.

Emery on Messiah Fatigue:

How did he turn health care into a wedge issue against his own party? Why are we awash in a sea of dead pelicans? Why has he so much time on his hands for fundraisers and galas? Why are our relations so much worse with all of our allies, while our -- and their -- enemies go on building bombs?

Based on these facts, Obama seems nobody's highway to heaven. He's the sleek, splashy sports car that sits in the driveway, that looked so cool in the showroom, and handled so well on the test drive, but has a bad habit of stalling in traffic, and just doesn't take to the road.

WSJ: The Alien in the White House - The distance between the president and the people is beginning to be revealed.

Red Rosie O’Donnell Calls For ‘Communism’ In America; Confiscate BP’s Assets. Confiscate her assets first, please.

O Admin policies destroying jobs for youth

Sissy: What really goes on beneath the burka?

Still crazy after all these years: Daniel Ellsberg

Iran mocks US sanctions. (where did that link go?) Oh, here it is.

How many real jobs has Jerry Brown created in his life? Jerry Brown comes out swinging
at Meg Whitman

The Limits of Liberalism: The dangers of ideological confusion

The stupidification of America

Reb on Russell Kirk:

Saying "limited government is good" is not very much different from saying "I wish I had a full head of hair."  The more adamant a person is in these simplicities, the more likely it is that he or she has an allergy to thinking.)  If you want to save America, you need to get yourself schooled in Kirk. 

President Kick Ass cannot even handle a pet dog. Pathetic. Even when my kids were little, they would not put up with that from our dogs. That is now a worthless dog, and it is the owners' fault. How your dog behaves is a reflection of you and your training - or lack thereof, so analyze this:

Back in April I did a little bit of reminiscing about one of my Grandpas. At that time, I promised an open session for Grandpa reminiscing.

It is understood that Grandpas are or were not perfect, but each one is a story. A better story than those of parents, because the grandparent stories reach further into the past.

Sometimes I feel like I am an unsettled, unhomogenized mix of both of my Grandpas.

For example, my other Grandpa was the opposite of the warm, fun-loving one I posted about. This guy was a stern, dignified, laconic, unsociable, never smiling, morally-rigid GP and cardiologist who made house calls into his 80s. He totalled his car making a house call on one Christmas night in a blizzard. Cops took him to his house call with his big black leather bag, then back home, where he arrived bloodied but unbowed. 

He worked 7 days/wk. Had zero tolerance for foolishness of any sort, and the only times I ever saw a smile was when he was holding a baby. He was not about "fun," and was a serious man who took life seriously. He had a dry Milton or Shakespeare quote for any occasion, and he liked a Scotch or two in the evening, neat. Smoked corn-cob pipes at work and at home. (It is only recently that one could not smoke in hospitals.)  Osler was his hero, and he had nothing but contempt for FDR and Lyndon Johnson.

When he opened his medical practice, the scourges in CT were malaria, syphilis, puerperal fever, and TB and other infectious diseases - plus all the diseases we still have. Few people were "healthy," as we view it, in the 1920s and 30s: just imagine everybody today with a new hip or knee hobbling around painfully on canes, or stuck in chairs, or everybody today with a bypass or stent or heart meds, bedridden and slowly dying of heart failure. Not to mention untreatable Depression.

He grew up on a farm in northern CT in a hamlet named after his (and my) family name. Worked his way through college and medical school (in Baltimore), mostly as a cook during the summers at lumber camps in Maine and NH. (I never saw him even boil an egg - he always had a cook in the house. My Dad tells me that he did know how to cook pancakes.)

His first wife died of leukemia before she could have kids. He had been her doctor. He did not remarry until his 40s. Both of my grandpas lost young wives to illness. It wasn't rare at all, two generations ago.

Like most docs of the past, he was not much of a vacation-taker until his later 60s, but was known to enjoy fly fishing at his favorite getaway spot, Mohonk. He also liked the old resort hotels in Watch Hill, where he met his second wife. She was a summer hotel waitress there, but her main job was as a Brooklyn grammar school teacher, teaching new Jewish and Italian immigrant kids. Her parents were a farm family in Norwalk, CT., and I have no idea why or how she ended up in Brooklyn. She once told me she had to check the kids for lice daily.

Her Mom lived with them until she died aged 107. She had been a nurse while being a farm wife too. She did jigsaw puzzles, and looked like an Indian (she had plenty of Indian blood, I am told, but was not happy about that, I suspect).

Grandpa's garage shelves were piled with hearts and brains and kidneys in jars with formaldehyde or alcohol or whatever. Cool for a kid. As I recall, my Dad burned them - along with all of his old wooden file cabinets of medical records, when the old guy died at 86 or 87.

This is him at my aunt's wedding. My Dad's sister was a beauty and a Physical Therapist for the Army until she had kids, but she is now gone too:

His patients loved him but eventually he outlived most of them. Many paid him with farm produce, and the poor paid him with labor at his house - chopping wood, painting, cleaning up the grounds, etc. I remember stopping by and seeing a bushel basket of fresh-dug potatoes left on the back porch, and a basket of sweet corn another time. He had a good-sized vegetable garden down in the back, which he tended himself. Lots of wax beans, as I recall. I do like them too.

He had the first EKG machine in CT. We still have that German machine in its splendid mahogany case. It still works. I need to take a photo of it when I remember. I think my Dad intends to donate it to the Yale Medical School museum.

I'll welcome more Grandpa thumbnail sketches in the comments.

We, and others, have often felt that one of the best uses of the internet is to disseminate local - very local - news. Local newsletters/online newspapers will never win millions of daily viewers, but if they can pick up some local ads (and if the area has broadband), it's a better biz model nowadays than the dying dead tree format.

Our pal Greg Sullivan has just begun publishing The Rumford Meteor. Pretty slick for a small town rag, and a good model for what can be done.

Among other things, he posted this video of Maine clam diggers:

I do not blame BP for the oil. It's a SNAFU, and such things happen daily in life if not usually on this scale. Blaming and scapegoating are for nursery school and politicians. This BP gas station is good, tho:

Thomas Jones, Naples. The Capella Nuova outside the Porta di Chiaja, 1778:

Dalrymple discusses Thomas Jones and the non-essential consumption economy: The Machine. Almost a miracle, isn't it, that we no longer have a predominantly essential-consumption society? 

"We are not human beings on a spiritual journey. We are spiritual beings on a human journey."

Stephen Covey (h/t Retriever)

It's working flawlessly: President Obama's outreach to Muslim countries. Pic from June 2, via Ross here. 

Harvard gives honorary degree to Adderal. A drug that makes you smarter.

College Reading Lists: Drenched in Moonbattery

First the SAT, Next the MCAT? Related from Betsy: Wrong but scoring points

Reshape Universities Because of "Stereotype Threat"?

Govt created 10X more jobs than private sector

What is China all about these days? A rising power is plagued by doubts.

Mark Steyn: Contempt for Israel also contempt for U.S.

Gateway: Gov. Haley Barbour on Obama: “Napoleon Said Never Interfere With the Enemy When He’s in the Process of Destroying Himself”

FTC proposes a Drudge Tax. Some call it an iPad Tax

To Avoid Voter Rage, Democrats Skip Town Halls

Newsweek Frets Over Conservative Hotties; Newsweek, Heal Thyself. h/t, Insty

Can Israel Survive A Second Obama Term?

It's the Wilders Effect:

Every Dutch party, Labor included, now holds positions concerning immigrants’ obligations to Dutch society that might have been called fascistic by the left a decade earlier.

Two women: Rachel Corrie and Shiri Negari

From Dr. Bob:

Deep within each of us dwells a bottomless abyss, into which we pour an endless train of insufficient and destructive detritus. We seek to fill the abyss with material goods; with drugs, or alcohol, or food, or sex; we seek relationships, hoping through them to fill that void — then destroy those relationships when they fail to accomplish what they are utterly incapable of fulfilling. Neither power, nor money, nor eminence, nor the esteem of others will suffice. Only to be chosen by God; to be accepted, fully, unconditionally, eternally by Him: this alone fills the despondent destitution within — for that emptiness was made to be filled with naught but God Himself.

I understand what Dr. Bob is saying in his post, but surely not all foolish desires are displaced and misplaced yearnings for God...or are they?

h/t, Washington Reb

An email with pics from our friend and occasional guest-poster Nathan, who is living in Jerusalem:

After watching Verdi's Nabuco performed at night at the foot of Matzada, I planned my ascent on Saturday.

Up at 415 a.m. and cabbed to Matzada from Ein Gedi Kibbutz facing the Dead Sea, two kilometers below sea level. Hiked up the 350 Meters during sunrise. First one up. Took the "snake path" on the east face of the mountain fortress built about thirty years before Christ by Herod, the son of Edomite Converts to Judaism, who was King under the Romans and fairly much despised by the Jews, even as he prevailed over some thirty years of stunnning prosperity and --- trained as an engineer/architect -- proliferative building including the entire port of Cesaria (named after Cesar), which included a hippodrome and perhaps more importantly a major port for the Romans.

The snake path

The history here is ironic and as twisty as the Snake Path, which was built by Herod so that supplies, including water from Ein Gedi oasis about 17 km north, could be brought up by donkeys. There is a western ramp built by Jewish slaves under the Romans to defeat the Jewish Sicari in 73 AD, but that in a moment.

The remarkable stillness (beyond quiet) on the 45 minute hike up gives time for reflection and occassional glances to sight the hints of sun's birth over the Dead Sea, even as the crescent moon and a star-like planet linger in the South East.

Sunrise over the Dead Sea

Herod built this fortress, designed by himself after his architects and engineers said that it could not be done. Built it to protect himself with the sheers on all sides. Protect himself from his Jews. Having been driven once from Jerusalem by angry Jews (a tough crowd to rule over, it seems), he decided he needed a few refuges to which to escape in the future. Built Herodian just south of Jerusalem, but Matzada was his star. Quarried in place, he imported the two-piece capitals for the columns. The quarries apparently became used for water storage. But, Josephus (the Jewish general turncoat who became a chronicler for the Romans) describes massive storehouses filled with wine amphoras (Greek for any container that can be lift from either side) for wine and olive oil, and supplies of corn, dates, pulse and other preserved foodstuffs, which Josephus said could supply the garrison for years.  There are remaining frescos (apparently the artisans were familiar with Vitruvius multi-volume work on architecture) and elegant mosaic floors in place. The castle was built on three levels at the northern tip of the plateau, on three natural ledges.  The castle faces towards the oasis of Ein Gedi, where David once took refuge from King Saul, who was jealous of DAvid's achievements. But that is another tale.

Below as one reaches the top, the Dead Sea has a heaviness to it, as if made of  molten lead.  Light appears before the Sun, which arises with its shifting colors until it attains that blinding glare of the Desert.

After Herod's death, the Jewish rebellion began against Rome: the Jews even minted their own shekels, labeling them for each year of the rebellion: one can eye these up to the fifth year in the new Museum at the end of the visit.

Jerusalem fell. (The Romans complained that there was so much blood from slaughtering Jews in the Old City that Roman horses had to wade through lakes of blood to their bellies.)  A group of some seventy Sicari Jews (very fierce and named for the Sicar, double-edged curved knives) retreated to Matzada, which became the last refuge and last place defeated by the Romans. Coming out here, at the edge of a dead lake of salt, two kilometers below the world of sea level, surrounded by pastel-hued mountains which themselves once were ocean bottom, on the edge of the Syrian-African rift, one is impressed, amazed at the extent to which the Romans went to defeat this last 70-citizen outpost of the Jews.

They set a siege that lasted several years, the Romans building some eight permanent camps, the largest of which had a Cardo, the central commercial street of every major Roman town.  The Sicari settled into the opulent palace and buildings of Herod, leaving evidence of their pottery, which measure poorly when compared to the simple, but elegant Edom-tinted, reddish pottery made for Herod (and each labelled by its artisan).  The Jews wrote notes on pottery shards to use for dealing out each families portioin and so on.

Surrounding landscape

The Romans, as I said, used Jewish slaves to build the assault ramp. At first the Romans built, but the Sicari would dump scalding oil on the Roman laborers, so Jewish slaves were enlisted to solve that problem. To taunt and demoralize the Roman soldiers, whose water was carefully met out, the Jewish women would hang out their clothes to dry, as if to show that they had plenty of water in the underground cisterns (which are massive as one walks into them.)

The end of this story came quickly when it came. The Romans, upon completing the ramp, pushed a ram to the top to batter the wall. The Jews tried to reinforce with stone and dirt. I believe that at this point the Jewish set the ram afire, but winds blew this towards the wall and burned through what was not made of stone. 

The rest we know from Josephus, a very literate turncoat, who in turn learned of the last moments of the Sicari from two surviving mothers and their five children who had hidden within the double-walled storage area so as not to be "suicided" by the Sicari.  Ben ari, the leader of the Sicari Jews gave a speech, stating that their women would not be violated by Romans, nor their children ever taste slavery. They set all the stores afire to defeat the Romans in death. After the ten men killed the others, they had lots with their names written upon them. The leader cut the throats of the remaining nine, then his own.   These lots -- with the names legible -- were found by Yigal Yadin in the 1960's excavation.

Ruins of Herod's castle

Matzada was mostly forgotten. Briefly used by some monks, then forgotten again. In the late 50's a Jewish archeologist, Shmarayu Guttman suggested excavation. but, not until 1963 did former General Yigal Yadin do the excavations as a Professor at the Hebrew U. Just a brief tale from Yadin. By reading Josephus (you know the reversible-coat part here already), Yadin was determined to find the castle on the northern lip. But, from above, it looked like nothing was there and colleagues doubted that anything could have been built on such a sheer, surfaced with shards and rubble.  But Yadin tied a rope to a rock at the top, rappeled down with a brush and hand tool, and discovered the castle. When they got to the lowest level, the third terrace, they found the skeleton of a Roman soldier -- armor intact -- lying near a woman's skeleton, her hair braids intact.

That's the news from Matzada.

Psalm 30

30:1 I will extol you, O LORD, for you have drawn me up, and did not let my foes rejoice over me.

30:2 O LORD my God, I cried to you for help, and you have healed me.

30:3 O LORD, you brought up my soul from Sheol, restored me to life from among those gone down to the Pit.

30:4 Sing praises to the LORD, O you his faithful ones, and give thanks to his holy name.

30:5 For his anger is but for a moment; his favor is for a lifetime. Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning.

30:6 As for me, I said in my prosperity, "I shall never be moved."

30:7 By your favor, O LORD, you had established me as a strong mountain; you hid your face; I was dismayed.

30:8 To you, O LORD, I cried, and to the LORD I made supplication:

30:9 "What profit is there in my death, if I go down to the Pit? Will the dust praise you? Will it tell of your faithfulness?

30:10 Hear, O LORD, and be gracious to me! O LORD, be my helper!"

30:11 You have turned my mourning into dancing; you have taken off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,

30:12 so that my soul may praise you and not be silent. O LORD my God, I will give thanks to you forever.