The Rev Goes Home

Rev. Jerry Falwell has died. Prayers and sympathy for his family and friends. He leaves behind an evangelical community that had already left him behind and a bevy of disappointed columnists who will never again get to use his bombast to cry 'Theocracy!' Our public life is better for his going.

This isn't to pass judgment on Rev. Falwell as a man. God has already done that, and I'd imagine Jerry's earning his wings as we speak (on a purple triangular cloud if God has any sense of humor). From any number of tributes by friends and colleagues, it is clear that Rev. Falwell brought real love and generosity to those around him and many unfortunate folks over the years.

It is to pass judgment on his poisonous impact on our public discourse. He may not have much liked Catholics, but he had his own high rituals that developed over the years. Make an outrageous comment. Preferably attack both a Democrat and a vulnerable minority in the process. Receive criticism for said comment. Get yet more airtime by issuing a clarification that really doesn't change anything you've said. Repeat.

Slate has a listing of some of Falwell's all time greats. Ironically enough, my last post before the hiatus was on one of his more harmless comments.

This pattern damaged all involved. It convinced non-evangelicals that our evangelical countrymen are a bunch of ignorant blowhards who want theocracy. It did damage to any number of groups, particularly the homosexual community. It stunted the theological growth of the evangelical community.

Luckily on this last point even Falwell's huge personality could not prevail. The evangelical community was never what Falwell was allowed to present it as. Thanks to the work of folks like Rich Cizik, Joel Hunter, and Dave Gushee, evangelicals are now leading voices for human rights, creation care, and combating genocide. These courageous folks took on Falwell and his hard right associates, and have been winning for more years than most folks realize.

Rest in peace, Rev. Jerry, and enjoy your new perch. Our politics won't be the same without you.

Dusting off the Grill

There's no doubt that the necessary personal dedication is the most difficult aspect of blogging. That's been a bit, em, lacking in recent months, for which I apologize. The grill has gone untended through the cold winter, but with warmer days upon us (and suitable prompting from a loyal reader), the Grillmaster is back at the helm.

A substantive post will follow momentarily. For now, to break this back in gently, check out this piece from yesterday's Washington Post. A very exciting first trip into legitimate media outlet publishing. Ok, so it was only on the website, but it WAS actually on the front page of the website until Jerry decided to up and die. More on that later. Thoughts on the piece more than welcome.

Another Abortion Debate Takes Off?

What's Next, Putin as Old Scratch?

Not to be outdone by a populist dictator like Chavez, Jerry Falwell upped the ante in the devil wars by saying this about the possible presidential run of Hillary Clinton:

''I certainly hope that Hillary is the candidate,'' Falwell said at a breakfast session Friday in Washington. ''I hope she's the candidate, because nothing will energize my (constituency) like Hillary Clinton,'' he said. ''If Lucifer ran, he wouldn't.''

Interesting sentiment. For the record, while Chavez apparently referred to our dear President simply as the devil, the Good Rev. Falwell makes use of Lucifer, the angelic name given to the Prince of Darkness before his fall from grace, when he was still, ironically enough, the Prince of Light. Interesting note on the origins of the name to refer to the Christian Devil:

Jerome, with the Septuagint close at hand and a general familiarity with the pagan poetic traditions, translated Heylel as Lucifer. This may also have been done as a pointed jab at a bishop named Lucifer, a contemporary of Jerome who argued to forgive those condemned of the Arian heresy.

That Jerome played for keeps!

Aside from its historical and humorous features, this incident may make a potent political point. The right wing HATES Hillary. Probably worse than her husband, which is entirely unfair, but hey, politics isn't about being fair. If she runs, the GOP will run mad and hard against her.

But, and stay with me on this, perhaps so mad that they'll alienate the moderate (especially female) voters that they NEED to win any national election? By running on anger would Republicans risk the Dem Curse of '04: Big attacks, little substance to offer in return? And would Americans sympathize with Hillary after months of what are sure to be dirty attacks? Not sure, but with Falwell already comparing her to the devil, the Grillmaster thinks that it's worth keeping this point in mind.

Oh Hugo, You Charmer

Just when you thought that Iran's president was the biggest showman-dictator in the world, good old Hugo Chavez steps up to the plate yesterday with one of the great moments of un-statesmanship in recent memory. Calling a fellow head of state the devil...class.

Not that one feels particularly sorry for Bush. His cowboy-diplomacy has never ventured into declaring opponents literal devils, but he's been loose and fast enough with calling folks evil that Chavez can legitimately say, 'Senor Jorge started it."

The real point once again is that the past five years have been such an unmitigated diplomatic disaster that clowns with guns like Chavez and Ahmedinajad (spelling from memory, so go easy on me) can embarass us a subway ride from Ground Zero while all we can do is unconvincingly pretend not to listen. Torture, a war of choice, a disastrous recovery and the total neglect of Israel-Palestine have characterized a foreign policy that's growing impotent before the midterms even take place.

Blogger Runs Beta

Hey All,
Blogger is apparently upgrading its services, so you'll notice some minor changes to the site in the near future. Let me know if anything bugs out on you.
GM

Madeleine Gets God

The Grillmaster has been making his way through Secretary Albright’s newest book with great interest. It’s not every day that someone of such stature spends a whole book talking directly about one’s research interest. The work, “The Mighty and the Almighty: Reflections on America, God, and World Affairs,” is the kind of wide-ranging and smart effort that one would expect from someone with such a distinguished pedigree.

In a way, it’s the writing of the book that’s as interesting as the content. Madeleine Albright is a progressive A-lister, as close a thing as Democrats have to an elder international stateswoman. And she’s writing about God! Decently well! As the barely intelligible Bob Dylan rasped when I saw him in concert Saturday night, ‘The times, they are a-changing.’ Another sign that progressives at the highest levels are taking religion seriously as a force for social change and academic study.

This is good news for the world (when we get back into the White House), and smart politically. Talking about a foreign policy that works with religious partners for the common good is a massive opportunity for progressives to distinguish themselves from their neo-con opponents and give a strong-headed ethical grounding to their international vision.

Make no mistake that Madame Albright is strong-headed. She reminds you about it every five pages or so. It’s a little much sometimes, like that football player who tried out for the high school play and constantly told his friends he wasn’t turning weird or anything, but it’s honest as well. Albright demonstrates real understanding of faith traditions and a personal candor about her own faith that comes across as genuine, but clearly remains a realist at heart, one who is interested in religion because of the pragmatic advantages it can offer to policy-makers. The Grillmaster thinks that theology risks being all smoke no fire, but it’s still an important imprimatur to secular foreign policy makers that they need to take religion seriously.

I was particularly pleasantly surprised to see Albright explicitly call for the creation of religious affairs liasons at the State Department. Doug Johnston has been calling for those for about a decade over at the International Center for Religion and Diplomacy, and we’d be better for them. Would be great if this book convinced some Congressman to make it a pet cause.

This all has the Grillmaster missing his days of reading and writing about this stuff as a day job. Which is probably a sign that I ought to get back to that someday not too far in the future…

You Done Me Wrong

On March 4^th of this past year, the Grillmaster sat down with two old friends in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Well, three friends if you count the bottle of whiskey. Actually, if you count all the bottles, it was four, but that’s another story. We spent a good part of the night doing what old friends should do, catching up on girlfriends, families, and football. Then, perhaps because I’ve caught the DC disease of talking work everywhere I go, we committed a double party foul: debating religion AND politics.

And somehow, against all odds, we’re still friends. The three of us disagree on many things and agree on others, but because of the bonds we’ve built over time, we can yell and swear and laugh about it in the end. Probably most importantly, we respect each other as honest and honorable men (at least about important things that is).

The Grillmaster couldn’t help but think of that long blurry night while reading through Commonweal and First Things yesterday morning. These are two of the leading journals of Catholicism and public life (at fairly opposite ends of the Catholic political spectrum), and both have launched blogs in the past year. Over the past few days, a conversation has developed on those blogs that lacks the charity and respect of our global summit in Chapel Hill.

A snarky but interesting post at First Things by Charlotte Allen, was followed by an adept reply from Commonweal, and then a round of sometimes-witty, sometimes-offensive comments from Commonweal’s blog commenters. Jodi Bottum of First Things then climbed to the summit of victimization to declare that Commonweal readers hate First Things readers. That’s a quote folks. Such melodramatics were simply the last political power play in the exchange, albeit of the passive aggressive variety. Commonweal editors have taken the real high ground, apologizing for the comments while reminding Mr. Bottum that his over-reaction was distinctly uncharitable to the Commonweal editors.

At the heart of both the offending comments and Mr. Bottum’s reply lurked a need for victim-status that requires one portray debating partners as hateful hellions. This need to play the victim may be a distinctly Catholic thing (redirection of our deep down urge to self-flagellate, etc etc), but the use and abuse of victim language by evangelicals, Jews, Muslims, and atheists makes me think something larger is at work: that distinctly human need to feel right in our cause, and the instinct that those who are victims must have right on their side.

Old friends and good Catholics realize that the victim narrative is never as clear-cut as we’d like to make it. Christ crucified is the only pure victim; we followers are at our BEST a blend of that perfect sacrifice and the crowds who called for his crucifixion. What is it about friendship and whiskey that makes this truth more apparent?

First Things First

To say that the Grill has gone a bit untended recently may be a bit of an understatement. As with everything else in DC, this little piece of work has been a bit neglected during the dog days of summer. I plead vacation and moving, and throw myself on the mercy of you the reader (or perhaps readers if I’m lucky).

There’s been just a bit of interest going on since I last wrote. As this Sunday’s Washington Post pointed out, August has a habit of turning up big events even though the President is off bushwhacking. The Grillmaster could return with a post on Israel getting bogged down in Lebanon, the real pain of the ‘birth pangs of democracy,’ the fall of Ralph Reed, the head butt of Zissou or the salvific appearance of Air McNair in the Ravens’ backfield to call plays and lead us back to Super Bowl glory.

But first, a major announcement from the Grillmaster family. As of about a month ago, the Grillmistress has been promoted to Grill-fiancée. May the coals of our love burn ever bright, or some such over-extended metaphor. In a classic move of misdirection, the Grillmaster’s procrastination in this matter led the artist formerly known as the Grillmistress to give up all hope and despair that the question would never be popped. She was pleasantly surprised to the contrary in Charlottesville on the balcony of Pavilion VII overlooking the Lawn. The big day will be just under 11 months from now, so set your calendars.

The Official Fiancée of the Grill (still experimenting with names) departed Virginia this morning for the company of her grad school compatriots and better ice cream and cheddar cheese in Vermont. It’s the first time since summer started that the Grillmaster has been alone in the newly unpacked house without the immediate prospect of company. Grillin’ for one just ain’t as much fun.

Will be back with more regular posts (I promise), now that the summer is coming to an end...

Two Speeches a World Apart

EJ Dionne in the Washington Post is almost always worth one's time, and this morning is must read material. He calls Sen. Obama's Wednesday address on faith and politics,

what may be the most important pronouncement by a Democrat on faith and politics since John F. Kennedy's Houston speech in 1960 declaring his independence from the Vatican.

High praise, and almost certainly not the last time that the junior senator from Illinois will be compared to the man who was once the junior senator from Massachusetts.

It's telling to contrast what made those two speeches groundbreaking. Kennedy was set to run for the presidency, to become our nation's first Catholic president. Worried about anti-Catholic attacks on his loyalty to country like those that hampered Gov. Al Smith of New York in the presidential election of '28, Kennedy delivers an address to Southern Baptist leaders that underscored the limits of his faith. It essentially boils down to, 'I'm a Catholic, but I'm not going to take orders from the pope.' Imagine that, a Democrat needing to convince voters that his faith wouldn't matter TOO MUCH.

Fast forward almost fifty years to Wednesday at the Call to Renewal conference in DC. A lot has changed in the party of Kennedy, so much so that conservative Catholics like to make the near-blasphemous claim that JFK would have run as a Republican today. Sen. Obama delivers his address not to assure Americans that he'll maintain the separation of church and state, but to reassert that progressives don't need to advocate a public square stripped of all faith and values.

There's a lot to say about the particulars of Obama's speech, but the contrast between these two historic speeches makes it crystal clear how necessary the senator's words were on Wednesday. If his call for fairminded dialogue is heeded, America and all working of the common good will be stronger for it.

Welcome to the big leagues...

So THAT'S what happens when a top flight European squad takes you seriously in a match in a World Cup. See, the US apparently thought that its experience with Portugal in the opener of the last cup was standard fare. Not so much. In the ever encouraging words of the ESPN commentators, 'the US got smoked.'

The unfortunate thing is that right up until that second beautiful goal rocketed into the side netting from about 80 yards away, the US was right in the thing. Controlling possession. Down 1-0, but on an early goal. The Czechs hadn't looked particularly strong since then. Reyna just had an incredible strike come within two or three inches of tying up the game. All was well in the world.

And then, bad clearance by central defense, and BOOM, 2-0. It was a clean right hook to the jaw, and we went down just like Michael Warrick in the 9th round last Wednesday. Doctors reported only weak signs of life for the remainder of the game.

I read somewhere after our loss to the Germs in the quarterfinals in '02 something like this: 'Congrats America, you've truly arrived. Today you outplayed another team, but got beat anyway. Welcome to World Cup football.' Well, maybe this is another step in our development. Congrats America, you're on your way. Today a European team took you seriously, and beat you mercilessly up and down the pitch. Welcome to World Cup football.

Back to the Land of Guinness and Old Friends

This time there's a good reason for my absence! The Grillmaster returned to his Irish/Northern Irish/[insert Anglo-national reference here] stomping grounds last week for a much needed vacation. Nothing sounded better than a week of quiet countryside, welcoming people, and stirred memories.

HA! The only moments of quiet were while in the pub toilet. Aside from that, the Guinness and old friends kept me well occupied. Such a different experience to cross the ocean and feel like you're going home again. Too many highlights to list them all, but I'll do my best with a top 10 list.

10. An open bar banquet in the Guinness Storehouse in Dublin. Miraculously, less intoxicating than you might think.

9. Sharing R. Kelly's 'Trapped in the Closet' with an international crowd, thus further damaging Euro-American relations.

8. Holding it down in the best table in Belfast, the corner booth at the Duke of York.

7. Defending the honor of the Mitchell class of 2005 by winning the innaugural Guinness chug-off.

6. A glorious lunch with old friends at the best Middle Eastern cafe you've never heard of in Dublin's Chester Beaty Library.

5. Seeing the future of world theatre in '100 Minutes.' Amazingly successful even with so many frightening man-killers...

4. Discovering a whole new painful variety of cider with a crowd sophisticated enough to appreciate the complicated nuances of the cider pallette.

3. Rambling the beautiful emptiness of the Donegal roads with our intrepid and fearless American driver.

2. Meeting young Master James Walker for the first time, and seeing his parents sane and well.

1. Returning to our little piece of paradise at Downhill Hostel. And the fact that if I ever need to start an alternate life as someone named Daniel, I'll have an innkeeper to vouch for me.

Dear George...

So it has come to this: the leader of the free world is upstaged by a two-bit faux-populist anti-Semite from Iran. The letter from Mahmood Ahmadinajad exemplifies that ever so fine line between insanity and genius. It's a brilliant tactical stroke, in all likelihood actually made a difference at the UN yesterday thanks to our cowardly friends in Russia and China, and has at least temporarily put Bush on the defensive.

If you need any more proof that our President has made this country less safe, think of this: he has so little international credibility that a semi-coherant rant on Christian theology from a repressive Islamist dictator is all it takes to tip the global balance of power against US interests. Mission accomplished.

Strength through Conviction

Peter Beinhart has an interesting piece in this weekend's New York Times magazine. The title, 'Rehabilitation of the Cold-War Liberal,' is somewhat misleading (the article barely touches on the Cold War liberal in question, Reinhold Neibuhr), but the content is provocative and challenging on a couple of fronts. My friend Paul Musgrave is too caught up in New York cynicism to see the truth in Beinhart's arguments, but I'll let it go this time without imposing Calvinball-related penalties on him.

Beinhart seems to have two points that are most worth pondering. First, he dares to argue that liberal foreign policy ought to draw strength from its convictions. This is no small contention these days. A sizable chunk of liberal elites is thrilled that simply embracing realistic self-interest can make liberals come off like trust-worthy world stewards in comparison with the ideological wrecklessness of King George. But is this enough? Beinhart argues convincingly that it is not only inadequate to the world we face, but a betrayal of the greatest achievements of liberals in foreign policy in the early days of the Cold War. Neibuhr had a deeply calculating, pragmatic streak, but it was grounded in principles far more meaningful than simple 'realistic' self-interest.

Which brings us to his second argument, equally contentious although quite different. What should these neo-liberal principles look like? Beinhart pushes his Cold War analogy in ways that aren't entirely satisfying, but are certainly provocative. In short, Cold War liberals were wise enough to realize that the foreign policy of a democracy must allow for difference in the world if that policy actually believes in its democratic ideals. Thus, the analogue to the socialist allies of Europe (which never fully yielded to communism) is today's popularly supported Islamist parties throughout the Middle East.

The challenge then becomes to determine WHY those European socialists never yielded to the USSR, and replicate those circumstances with contemporary Islamist parties. I'm no Cold War expert, but I'd posit that two features that helped America's cause in Europe do in fact exist today in the world of Islamist politics. First, ethno-nationalism never died in Western Europe. Nations wished to maintain national distinctiveness in a way that prevented submission to the heavy-handed USSR. A similarly enduring national strength remains in the Middle East. Pan-Arabism remains discredited, which ought to limit the threat that Islamist parties will unite in any meaningful way to control the region by force.

Second, I would imagine that US policy-makers indulged the socialistic experiments of Western European leaders, while establishing bright lines that could not be crossed without consequence. Why couldn't such an arrangement allow for engagement of Islamist parties? The United States will tolerate a great deal of internal diversity and autonomy within Islamic democracies, so long as nations eschew things like overtly calling for Israel's destruction, denying basic human rights (especially to women), and fostering terror groups intent on attacking the US.

This list of bright lines is clearly incomplete, but I think it is a viable path for engaging the very real and growing strength of political Islam. It would push liberals beyond short-sighted realistic calculation, indicate to the world that America can balance self-interest with local democracy, and remind us of some of the ideals that gave real strength to liberal foreign policy in the not-so-distant past.

Martick's Restaurant Francais

The best restaurants scare you. You wouldn't set foot in the place unless a trusted friend took you there first. You're a little nervous during your first visit, but after that you relish the chance to be the person bringing your friends there, to watch them while they nervously shift in their seats and wonder, 'What the hell am I doing here?" These places are never crowded, but always seem to be open. You leave for long periods, neighborhoods change, but the scene inside is always more or less the same.

The Grillmaster knows of a few such places, and had the chance to dine in one of my favorites this past Friday. Martick's Restaurant Francais has a bit of a deceptive name. Continental? Sort of. Classy? Eh, well, no. Sophisticated? After a fashion.

Martick's is a Baltimore landmark, and anybody who has the chance ought to get the to appreciate it before the octogenarian crank who runs the place hangs up his apron. He's Mr. Martick (his dad was THE Martick). He was born in the place. It was a speakeasy during Prohibition, a bohemian hip spot after that, a dark shell while Martick fled to France to learn to cook, and now a run-down speakeasy look-alike that just happens to serve some of the best French food in the area code.

You walk up to the door and wonder if you're in the right place. There are no signs of life, just a broken looking doorbell. When you give it a ring you'll either be greeted by a muffled bark or else just silence. After a little while the heavy wooden Prohibition-era door will swing open. If you're lucky, an eccentric host or hostess will ask you what the password is. If you're not, Mo Martick will be there in his boxers asking you what you want.

As your eyes readjust to the dim light, you can hardly believe your eyes. Baroque nude statues. Snakeskin wallpaper. Velvet curtains. Tile floors and a tin roof. The odds are that a half dozen other patrons of varying degrees of uniqueness are scattered across the small room. The menus are handwritten, the air is still, and you swear you don't know where the hell this place came from.

Then the food comes, and you realize why your friend brought you to what upon your arrival you took for the anteroom to Hell. It's French country cooking at its best. Fairly simple, moderately priced, hearty, and fantastically good. It still doesn't make sense, this infernal place with heavenly food. But that's what makes it great and rare. That kind of unsettling juxtaposition is tough to find, especially in these days of exurbs and urban renewal. Take the time to enjoy it while you still can. And try not to let it show that you're a little bit scared.

Mr. Hu Goes to Washington

This morning, the Grillmaster had the opportunity to witness the arrival and formal welcome of Chinese President Hu Jintao. The whole event was quite impressive. Two of my pictures from the morning pretty much sum up my ambivalence towards China. First, the formal shake of the two executives, perhaps the two most powerful men in the world. Second, the protestor who was hauled off right in front of us. Quite the day.

I've recently come across the following thank you note intercepted by the AP...

From: President Hu Jintao
To: President George W. Bush

Dear G-Dubs,

I very much enjoyed my visit to the White House today. Your troops are most impressive, although the ones in white wigs I found a bit curious. Laura is quite the catch! State-sponsored TV doesn't do her justice.

I was a bit put off by the screeching protestor that your officials somehow allowed to infiltrate the press corps. I mean, she writes for the damn Falun Gong newspaper! I have seen your Fox News, so surely you know that all journalists are not objective reporters of the truth. My police would surely have made life quite unpleasant for her and her relatives, but I suppose you all have your democratic processes that must be respected. Perhaps you can find room for her at Gitmo? I kid!

Seriously though, great show yall put on today. It was an honor to be received in such fashion. In a country of less than 300 million people, I can see how a crowd of 2,000 is a sign of respect. Of course, in China we could have convinced at least 25,000 of our 1.3 BILLION people to make an appearance, but hey, who's counting!

I hope we can continue the cordial relationship that we have fostered over the past years. I'm told that you're agenda is fairly open for the next three years, so perhaps you'll have time to pay Beijing a visit. I'll make sure the protestors keep their distance.

Your Comrade,
Hu

The Joys of Spring

Bourbon on the roof, Chipotle with friends, and now the O's have put up 13 on the Indians. Ain't Spring grand. No particularly profound thoughts other than that. I'll leave those to Walker Percy. This is from his classic essay on the aesthetic experience, aptly titled 'Bourbon'

"The pleasure of knocking back Bourbon lies in the plain of the aesthetic but at an opposite pole from connoisseurship. My preference for the former is or is not deplorable depending on one's value system--that is to say, how one balances out the Epicurean virtues of cultivating one's sensory end organs with the greatest discrimination and at least cost to one's health, against the virtue of evocation of time and memory and of the recovery of self and the past from the fogged-in disoriented Western world. In Kierkegaardian terms, the use of Bourbon to such an end is a kind of aestheticized religious mode of existence, whereas connoisseurship, the discriminating but single-minded stimulation of sensory end organs, is the aesthetic of damnation."

Out of the Desert

WARNING: SHAMELESS PLUG

The Grillmaster finds the desert troubling (too much sand, not enough meat). Nevertheless, it has been fertile metaphorical ground in the past for my writing, and seemed fitting in this piece just published through the Center for American Progress. Hope you enjoy.

Lax Standards

The Grillmaster has been resisting the urge to post on the Duke lacrosse saga. It's a story that has left me torn from the beginning, and hasn't gotten any less troubling now that the defense claims that DNA tests have cleared all their clients.

Like most white middle class kids in Baltimore, I played lacrosse early. From 6-16 I played in some form, from winter soft stick clinics through a brief and hilariously injury prone high school goalie career. I love the speed, power, and skill of the game. I love watching goalies throw themselves in front of shots that hurtle towards net in excess of 100 mph. I love that the first warm Saturday afternoons of spring mean lacrosse season is in full swing. And I love that both my alma maters (Loyola High School Baltimore and UVA) are at the top of the lacrosse world year after year.

But there's no getting around the fact that many of the best lax players are rich white guys who can be loosely described as 'assholes'. The Grillmaster has himself certainly done some asshole things in his day, but lax guys tend to take it to another level. This is a long way from saying that they are all aspiring sex offenders, but there's no doubt in my mind that a sizable chunk of the best players in the high school and college game cultivate an air of preppy jock untouchableness. Dave Jamieson's article over at Slate is WAY over the top (at least based on living in the lax mecca that is Baltimore), but most honest players would probably acknowledge he has a bit of a point.

All of these thoughts jumbled together when the initial allegations around Duke's excellent men's team came into the open. I wasn't particularly surprised, although I was really saddened for the sport and most of the guys on the team. I thought that some sexual assault probably did occur, although I was sure they'd have lawyers who would fight tooth and nail to protect them. Now it looks as if the evidence is pointing away from sexual assault, although we'll have to see how the story plays itself out.

It's been morbidly amusing to watch every social theorist in the country link this incident to their cause celebre. When guilt seemed assured, race theorists ranted, feminists fumed, and Marxists muttered. Even conservatives like David Brooks got in on the act, linking this incident to the fall of values-based education. If these allegations are dismissed in coming days, you can rest assured that other 'theorists' will chalk this up to the fact that poor black folks just can't be trusted.

Regardless of what happens at the end of this case, a lot of damage has been done to a good sport and the vast majority of good guys who play it. When over 40,000 fans crowd Ravens' Stadium to watch the Final Four, this will rival the main storyline. 'What if Duke's season hadn't been cut short,' commentators will ask to no end. 'Will the sport's image ever recover,' an earnest sideline reporter might ask. Virginia has one of the most dominant teams in men's lacrosse history (knock on wood), but no one will remember that as the top story of the 2006 season.

And probably most depressingly, this story will set back some of the progress that had been made towards diversifying the game geographically, racially, and economically. You probably haven't heard this on CNN or MSNBC, but lacrosse was actually becoming less of an elite-cornered market. Kids beyond Baltimore and Long Island are starting to play at earlier ages, which in a decade or so almost certainly means that the best players will come from a much more diverse pool. Hopefully the universally despicable actions of one night won't do irreversible damage to the game that reminds me so much of home.

Neuhaus Naked in the Square

If you don't know who Richard John Neuhaus is, you probably should. More than anyone, he has provided the intellectual heft behind contemporary religious conservatism, built the brainy foundation upon which Scalia, Thomas, Alito, and others now rest. Damon Linker, a former editor of Neuhaus' journal First Things, has a comprehensive, somewhat sympathetic, and eventually damning account of Fr. Richard's goals in this week's New Republic (free subscription required). I don't know the story of how Linker parted ways with his former boss, but it makes for one hell of an article.

The Soundtrack

Dear and loyal readers (perhaps that should be singular?):

My apologies for neglecting the grill these past two weeks. I can only plead the combination of much work with a great extended visit from the Grillmistress. I very much enjoy tending this little corner of cyberspace, but certain things have a happy habit of distracting one during free hours at home. As the Grillmistress has returned to the great North for a little while, I can get back to my monastic discipline of blogging.

There have been dozens of newsworthy events during the past weeks, which I may get to in time. But there is pressing business of the musical variety that I simply must put on the grill. After all, every cookout needs background music. The Grillcouple saw both at the Strathmore in Bethesda last week. Think of the USS Constellation meets the Starship Enterprise, and you start to get the Strathmore.

If you don't know who Kurt Elling is, find out, and see him in concert if he ever comes through your neck of the woods. His hipster schtick would be a little over the top if he wasn't so damn good. His lyrics probe philosophical depths, his voice pushes the extremes of pitch and pace, and his band is TIGHT. Listen to his arrangement of My Foolish Heart, and get ready to testify. I'm forever in debt to my first year philosophy of religion teacher who introduced me to this dynamic talent. The old farts at the Strathmore didn't know how good they had it.

The crowd was much younger and more in the know on Wednesday night. You might not have heard of the SFJazz collective, but you probably have heard of some of its members. Joshua Redman, Nicholas Payton, Bobby Hutcherson, and five other world-class musical talents in one band. 8 original compositions from band members. Oh yeah, and 6 covers from some obscure guy named Herbie Hancock. It is a true treat to see a group made up of such explosive individual musicians who know how to play as a band and obviously care about entertaining their audience. Class professionals. And DAMN can Mr. Payton blow that horn.

The River City might not always have the most character, but with regular doses of music like this, there might just be enough soul in my life to get by.