Posts
I finished Richard Reeves' President Nixon: Alone in the White House.
The book has an excellent bibliographic essay at the end, written by
Jonathan Cassidy, who assisted Reeves in his research. Although there
are a variety of gems in that essay, I would like to highlight something
that Cassidy says on page 669, as Cassidy comments on a book about
President Richard Nixon's drug policy:
"Michael Massing's The Fix
(New York: Simon & Schuster, 1998) is an interesting look at
American drug policy under Nixon. On drugs, Nixon wasn't easy to
stereotype. Though he raged about government officials who were
publicly soft on drugs, he drew fine distinctions that were lost on
contemporary demagogues. For example, in one memo he worried that a
tough new law on pushers would be unfairly harsh to those who sold just
to support their habit. Massing's book shows that current policy makers
could learn a lot from Nixon's realpolitik."
I don't know much
about President Nixon's drug policy, but I think that any drug policy
should be compassionate, yet tough. Insofar as Nixon pursued that
approach, I applaud him.
Many people whom I respect argue that the
government should not have a drug policy, and that drugs should be
legalized. I'm hesitant to go that far, for I have problems envisioning
marijuana and cocaine being sold at the local supermarket! But I do
recognize that there have been problems with the war on drugs: it has
cost a lot, plus it has arguably been unfair, in that African-American
drug abuse has been punished more harshly than white drug abuse.
Moreover, there are people who have been stiffly punished for taking a
puff of marijuana, and I have heard and read that this punishment can
have long-standing effects.
I could say that drug policy should
focus on treatment and rehabilitation more than punishment, but that's
easier said than done. The thing is, people have to want to
recover before they recover. I have heard in recovery groups that you
can't make people recover. But maybe it wouldn't do addicts harm at
least to be exposed to a recovery program: to hear the view that
recovery is positive, to be given a chance to share their problems with
someone who is understanding, to listen to the stories of people who are
trying to recover. Hopefully, something positive would sink in.
Plus,
do we want to take punishment off of the table? I am reluctant to
propose this, since drug policy may need a carrot and a stick. I
wonder, however, how strict a drug policy should be, and I question the
value of mandatory minimums.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Drinking Christians, Tee-Totaling Christians, and Being Understanding
I was recently reading Richard Beck’s post, Drinking Christians,
and that made me think about the different stances towards alcohol that
I have encountered among Christians over the course of my life.
I grew up in an Armstrongite offshoot, and it was pro-drinking. Some liked to call the Feast of Tabernacles (which the church observed every year) “The Feast of Booze.” You may recall Deuteronomy 14:26, which states: “And thou shalt bestow that money for whatsoever thy soul lusteth after, for oxen, or for sheep, or for wine, or for strong drink, or for whatsoever thy soul desireth: and thou shalt eat there before the LORD thy God, and thou shalt rejoice, thou, and thine household” (KJV).
Was I aware of any tee-totaling Christians? Well, on some level, yes. There were some Baptists and Pentecostals on my Dad’s side of the family, and we were aware that they frowned on drinking. In response to their sentiments, my Dad one time explained to me how their biblical exegesis was rather inconsistent: that they applauded the biblical passages that criticized drinking alcohol in excess, while interpreting the wine in the pro-drinking passages as grape juice. My Dad said that the biblical position is moderation. I also knew some tee-totaling Christians in a high school Christian group that I was in, as someone talked about the challenges of being pressured to drink at parties. And a Christian teacher of mine presented the “grape juice” interpretation to his biology class. (How we got onto that topic, I have no idea!)
As an undergraduate in college, it seemed as if tee-totaling was practically considered a doctrine of Christianity. The Christians I knew did not drink. When a person became a Christian, one practice that went out the door for that person was drinking alcohol. This tee-totaling stance was not questioned that often, as far as I could see, but, on the rare occasions that it was, the wine that Jesus drank was said to be grape juice. Meanwhile, I was attending a Seventh-Day Adventist church, which was tee-totaling, and one of the elders there testified about how God delivered him from alcoholism.
At two of the graduate schools that I attended, I sometimes came across the tee-totaling position. I was attending an independent Seventh-Day Adventist church, and it was anti-drinking. At the Intervarsity that I attended, however, the topic of drinking rarely came up. There was one time when a lady in the group criticized the hypocrisy of Christians she knew who went to the school’s drinking parties. Also, one of the members called me up and asked me if I wanted to have a beer with him (which was nice of him). But, otherwise, I didn’t hear about drinking in the group.
At another graduate school that I attended, there were a lot of evangelical Christians. Some of them did not drink, but they were tolerant of those who did. And some of them liked to brag about their drinking exploits. I’ve seen the same sort of attitude on some Christian blogs that I read. “Oh, I love to discuss theology over a nice brew!” What usually goes through my mind is, “Okay, you drink, I get it.”
At the church that I attend now, the topic of drinking rarely comes up. Well, it did once, when one guy in the church’s Bible study group remarked that he drank before he became a Christian, but now he doesn’t. And there was another time when an elderly gentleman who sits in front of me said that he used to be on the beer-wagon, but now he’s on the water-wagon. And someone else said to me that he sympathizes with people in Alaska who drink because they’re so depressed on those cold, dark days. But, other than that, the topic of drinking does not come up!
In terms of Richard Beck’s post, I think that it gave me a fresh perspective on passages in the New Testament about not offending the weaker brother (not that I like that term, but I’ll use it now because I can’t think of another term to use at the moment). I used to hate those passages. They seemed to imply to me that I should let some judgmental Christian get on his or her high horse and dictate to me how I live my life. I thought that tee-totaling Christians should realize that there are different perspectives about issues, such as drinking and going to the movies, and that it is the height of arrogance for them to presume that all Christians must live according to their demands, just so they’re not offended.
But Beck told a story about a young couple who came out of a lifestyle of heavy drinking, and, now that they were Christians, they were looking forward to a party without alcohol. But alcohol was served at the party. Beck exhorts people to remember those who are in that sort of situation: “Church in a bar isn’t always a good idea when there are people struggling with alcoholism. I spend some time mentoring men struggling with addictions. I can’t imagine inviting them to church in a bar or for theological talk over microbrews.”
I think what’s important is for people on all sides of the issue to be understanding about where people are.
I grew up in an Armstrongite offshoot, and it was pro-drinking. Some liked to call the Feast of Tabernacles (which the church observed every year) “The Feast of Booze.” You may recall Deuteronomy 14:26, which states: “And thou shalt bestow that money for whatsoever thy soul lusteth after, for oxen, or for sheep, or for wine, or for strong drink, or for whatsoever thy soul desireth: and thou shalt eat there before the LORD thy God, and thou shalt rejoice, thou, and thine household” (KJV).
Was I aware of any tee-totaling Christians? Well, on some level, yes. There were some Baptists and Pentecostals on my Dad’s side of the family, and we were aware that they frowned on drinking. In response to their sentiments, my Dad one time explained to me how their biblical exegesis was rather inconsistent: that they applauded the biblical passages that criticized drinking alcohol in excess, while interpreting the wine in the pro-drinking passages as grape juice. My Dad said that the biblical position is moderation. I also knew some tee-totaling Christians in a high school Christian group that I was in, as someone talked about the challenges of being pressured to drink at parties. And a Christian teacher of mine presented the “grape juice” interpretation to his biology class. (How we got onto that topic, I have no idea!)
As an undergraduate in college, it seemed as if tee-totaling was practically considered a doctrine of Christianity. The Christians I knew did not drink. When a person became a Christian, one practice that went out the door for that person was drinking alcohol. This tee-totaling stance was not questioned that often, as far as I could see, but, on the rare occasions that it was, the wine that Jesus drank was said to be grape juice. Meanwhile, I was attending a Seventh-Day Adventist church, which was tee-totaling, and one of the elders there testified about how God delivered him from alcoholism.
At two of the graduate schools that I attended, I sometimes came across the tee-totaling position. I was attending an independent Seventh-Day Adventist church, and it was anti-drinking. At the Intervarsity that I attended, however, the topic of drinking rarely came up. There was one time when a lady in the group criticized the hypocrisy of Christians she knew who went to the school’s drinking parties. Also, one of the members called me up and asked me if I wanted to have a beer with him (which was nice of him). But, otherwise, I didn’t hear about drinking in the group.
At another graduate school that I attended, there were a lot of evangelical Christians. Some of them did not drink, but they were tolerant of those who did. And some of them liked to brag about their drinking exploits. I’ve seen the same sort of attitude on some Christian blogs that I read. “Oh, I love to discuss theology over a nice brew!” What usually goes through my mind is, “Okay, you drink, I get it.”
At the church that I attend now, the topic of drinking rarely comes up. Well, it did once, when one guy in the church’s Bible study group remarked that he drank before he became a Christian, but now he doesn’t. And there was another time when an elderly gentleman who sits in front of me said that he used to be on the beer-wagon, but now he’s on the water-wagon. And someone else said to me that he sympathizes with people in Alaska who drink because they’re so depressed on those cold, dark days. But, other than that, the topic of drinking does not come up!
In terms of Richard Beck’s post, I think that it gave me a fresh perspective on passages in the New Testament about not offending the weaker brother (not that I like that term, but I’ll use it now because I can’t think of another term to use at the moment). I used to hate those passages. They seemed to imply to me that I should let some judgmental Christian get on his or her high horse and dictate to me how I live my life. I thought that tee-totaling Christians should realize that there are different perspectives about issues, such as drinking and going to the movies, and that it is the height of arrogance for them to presume that all Christians must live according to their demands, just so they’re not offended.
But Beck told a story about a young couple who came out of a lifestyle of heavy drinking, and, now that they were Christians, they were looking forward to a party without alcohol. But alcohol was served at the party. Beck exhorts people to remember those who are in that sort of situation: “Church in a bar isn’t always a good idea when there are people struggling with alcoholism. I spend some time mentoring men struggling with addictions. I can’t imagine inviting them to church in a bar or for theological talk over microbrews.”
I think what’s important is for people on all sides of the issue to be understanding about where people are.
President Nixon: Alone in the White House 19
On pages 600-601 of President Nixon: Alone in the White House,
Richard Reeves talks about the time that President Richard Nixon was
about to ask his close aides, H.R. Haldeman and John Ehrlichman, to
resign. Nixon did not like unpleasant interactions, so this was
especially hard for him. White House Press Secretary Ron Ziegler told
Haldeman before Haldeman met with Nixon that Nixon himself had decided
to resign. But Haldeman did not believe that. Haldeman said: "He's
just steeling himself to meet with us. He's creating a big crisis he
can't meet, so that he can meet the lesser crisis of dealing with us."
That's actually an interesting way of coping: to create a big crisis (even if it's in one's mind), to cope with a smaller crisis. Indeed, big crises can put small crises into perspective. Whenever I have had a crisis that was big (for me, that is), that has tended to alleviate my petty resentments and bitterness. Of course, those things return once the crisis is gone! I wouldn't create a big crisis to deal with a smaller crisis, but I would remind myself that, however hard life may be now, it could be worse.
That's actually an interesting way of coping: to create a big crisis (even if it's in one's mind), to cope with a smaller crisis. Indeed, big crises can put small crises into perspective. Whenever I have had a crisis that was big (for me, that is), that has tended to alleviate my petty resentments and bitterness. Of course, those things return once the crisis is gone! I wouldn't create a big crisis to deal with a smaller crisis, but I would remind myself that, however hard life may be now, it could be worse.
Monday, December 2, 2013
Book Write-Up: The Future of Biblical Interpretation
Stanley E. Porter and Matthew R. Malcolm, ed. The Future of Biblical Interpretation: Responsible Plurality in Biblical Hermeneutics. Downers Grove, Illinois: IVP Academic, 2013.
I would like to thank Intervarsity Press for my review copy of this book. See here for information about it on Intervarsity Press’s web site.
This book includes essays from scholarly contributors, all of them pertaining to biblical interpretation. Many of the questions that they address are not particularly new: Is the biblical text’s original meaning, as intended by its original author for its original audience, its only meaning, or can it have different meanings for subsequent people and contexts? (Interestingly, more than one person in the book stated that the issue is more complex than saying that there was an original author.) Can the church adopt a critical methodology and actually be faithful to that methodology, without compromising it for the sake of theology? If so, can the church then be edified when that methodology is accepted, considering that aspects of that critical methodology may lead to conclusions that are uncomfortable for certain Christians (i.e., Paul did not write the Pastoral Epistles)?
Overall, the book was rather abstract. If I were to offer a suggestion to people who want to read it, it would be to read the book’s conclusion before tackling the essays. That way, the reader can have a map in his or her mind of where the authors are going with their arguments.
I enjoyed Stanley Porter’s essay on “Biblical Hermeneutics and Theological Responsibility” because it was taking apart some of the ways that Christians have tried to interpret the Bible theologically. I have to admire someone who tackles uncomfortable issues (for a number evangelicals) with honesty! But, if there was one contribution to the book that I really appreciated, it was R. Walter L. Moberly’s “Biblical Hermeneutics and Ecclesial Responsibility.” Overall, the essay was rather abstract, but I liked Moberly’s concrete example of his own struggle to find how the church can be edified by the Pastoral Epistles, considering the claim of many scholars that Paul did not even write them. Moberly shares his conclusion on page 156:
“Finally, how do I think about the Pastorals some thirty-five years later? In terms of authorship, I am agnostic; the distinctiveness of tone and content in relation to the undisputed Pauline letters is not in doubt, but arguments as to how best to account for this in terms of origins are inconclusive. However, the authority of the letters is secured not by their authorship as such, but by their canonical status, historic reception and historic fruitfulness. If Paul in the Pastorals had undergone an interpretive process somewhat analogous to that of Jesus in John’s Gospel, then I take the fruit of that process as a witness to the multifaceted depth of its subject matter. In any event, literary theory makes it possible to take the first-person voice of the letters with full imaginative seriousness, and one can unreservedly inhabit the imaginative world of the text in preaching, while leaving open the relation between literary voice and historical author.”
Christians may disagree about whether Moberly’s approach here is satisfactory, but I do like his openness to historical-criticism as well as his attempts to draw upon scholarly tools and methodology to think of ways to preserve the Pastorals’ homiletical value. Do I think that it matters whether or not Paul wrote the Pastorals? I do believe that something is robbed when we take away Paul’s personal voice from the Pastorals: can we be edified by Paul’s mentoring relationship with Timothy and encouragement of Timothy through hard times, if Paul did not even write those words to Timothy? At the same time, I have been edified by fiction. Moreover, I am open to seeing John’s Gospel as a later interpretation of Jesus, so why not regard the Pastorals as a later interpretation of Paul? In any case, this is a thought-provoking topic.
I would like to thank Intervarsity Press for my review copy of this book. See here for information about it on Intervarsity Press’s web site.
This book includes essays from scholarly contributors, all of them pertaining to biblical interpretation. Many of the questions that they address are not particularly new: Is the biblical text’s original meaning, as intended by its original author for its original audience, its only meaning, or can it have different meanings for subsequent people and contexts? (Interestingly, more than one person in the book stated that the issue is more complex than saying that there was an original author.) Can the church adopt a critical methodology and actually be faithful to that methodology, without compromising it for the sake of theology? If so, can the church then be edified when that methodology is accepted, considering that aspects of that critical methodology may lead to conclusions that are uncomfortable for certain Christians (i.e., Paul did not write the Pastoral Epistles)?
Overall, the book was rather abstract. If I were to offer a suggestion to people who want to read it, it would be to read the book’s conclusion before tackling the essays. That way, the reader can have a map in his or her mind of where the authors are going with their arguments.
I enjoyed Stanley Porter’s essay on “Biblical Hermeneutics and Theological Responsibility” because it was taking apart some of the ways that Christians have tried to interpret the Bible theologically. I have to admire someone who tackles uncomfortable issues (for a number evangelicals) with honesty! But, if there was one contribution to the book that I really appreciated, it was R. Walter L. Moberly’s “Biblical Hermeneutics and Ecclesial Responsibility.” Overall, the essay was rather abstract, but I liked Moberly’s concrete example of his own struggle to find how the church can be edified by the Pastoral Epistles, considering the claim of many scholars that Paul did not even write them. Moberly shares his conclusion on page 156:
“Finally, how do I think about the Pastorals some thirty-five years later? In terms of authorship, I am agnostic; the distinctiveness of tone and content in relation to the undisputed Pauline letters is not in doubt, but arguments as to how best to account for this in terms of origins are inconclusive. However, the authority of the letters is secured not by their authorship as such, but by their canonical status, historic reception and historic fruitfulness. If Paul in the Pastorals had undergone an interpretive process somewhat analogous to that of Jesus in John’s Gospel, then I take the fruit of that process as a witness to the multifaceted depth of its subject matter. In any event, literary theory makes it possible to take the first-person voice of the letters with full imaginative seriousness, and one can unreservedly inhabit the imaginative world of the text in preaching, while leaving open the relation between literary voice and historical author.”
Christians may disagree about whether Moberly’s approach here is satisfactory, but I do like his openness to historical-criticism as well as his attempts to draw upon scholarly tools and methodology to think of ways to preserve the Pastorals’ homiletical value. Do I think that it matters whether or not Paul wrote the Pastorals? I do believe that something is robbed when we take away Paul’s personal voice from the Pastorals: can we be edified by Paul’s mentoring relationship with Timothy and encouragement of Timothy through hard times, if Paul did not even write those words to Timothy? At the same time, I have been edified by fiction. Moreover, I am open to seeing John’s Gospel as a later interpretation of Jesus, so why not regard the Pastorals as a later interpretation of Paul? In any case, this is a thought-provoking topic.
President Nixon: Alone in the White House 18
On page 572 of President Nixon: Alone in the White House, Richard Reeves says the following:
"What America did not seem to want was the aid Nixon had pledged to Vietnam, both South and North, in the peace agreement...[E]ven J. William Fulbright said aid should not be considered until after impounded domestic funding was released by the President...[Newsweek] quoted a Republican leader in the Senate as saying privately: 'It won't wash. How can a senator support cuts in hospital, flood and education spending at home and then vote money for the same thing in Hanoi?'"
The conflict between domestic and foreign policy has perplexed more than one Administration. That Republican Senator wondered how a Senator could support cuts in government spending for hospital, flood, and education, while voting to increase spending on those very same things in Vietnam. Well, more than one person asked during Hurricane Katrina how our government could get supplies so quickly and efficiently to Afghanistan, but not to people suffering from the effects of Katrina. More than one person has asked how the U.S. Government under President George W. Bush could spend money on universal health care in Iraq (see here), while opposing the notion that health care is a right here in the U.S. And Richard Nixon, in No More Vietnams, argues that President Lyndon Johnson held back from waging the Vietnam War aggressively because he was trying to safeguard his Great Society legacy.
Those who support spending money on programs abroad, while not supporting the spending of more money on similar programs at home, could perhaps argue that they're not supporting foreign aid programs just because they are nice people. Rather, they're doing so because those other countries that they want to support have a strategic importance. I'm not certain that they argue this, but I can imagine it. Perhaps they would have a point about those countries' strategic or geopolitical significance, and yet I still can't help but ask: Why are certain programs acceptable for people in foreign countries, but not for people in the United States?
The thing is, do we have to choose between foreign aid and domestic programs? There are times when we do feel that we have to choose. I remember watching the West Wing, and President Jed Bartlet told Zoey's French boyfriend that the reason the U.S. does not spend as much money as France on domestic programs is because the U.S. is spending money protecting Europe! Do we have to choose? Well, if universal health care actually saves money, as some progressives like to argue, maybe we can have our cake and eat it, too. I don't know.
"What America did not seem to want was the aid Nixon had pledged to Vietnam, both South and North, in the peace agreement...[E]ven J. William Fulbright said aid should not be considered until after impounded domestic funding was released by the President...[Newsweek] quoted a Republican leader in the Senate as saying privately: 'It won't wash. How can a senator support cuts in hospital, flood and education spending at home and then vote money for the same thing in Hanoi?'"
The conflict between domestic and foreign policy has perplexed more than one Administration. That Republican Senator wondered how a Senator could support cuts in government spending for hospital, flood, and education, while voting to increase spending on those very same things in Vietnam. Well, more than one person asked during Hurricane Katrina how our government could get supplies so quickly and efficiently to Afghanistan, but not to people suffering from the effects of Katrina. More than one person has asked how the U.S. Government under President George W. Bush could spend money on universal health care in Iraq (see here), while opposing the notion that health care is a right here in the U.S. And Richard Nixon, in No More Vietnams, argues that President Lyndon Johnson held back from waging the Vietnam War aggressively because he was trying to safeguard his Great Society legacy.
Those who support spending money on programs abroad, while not supporting the spending of more money on similar programs at home, could perhaps argue that they're not supporting foreign aid programs just because they are nice people. Rather, they're doing so because those other countries that they want to support have a strategic importance. I'm not certain that they argue this, but I can imagine it. Perhaps they would have a point about those countries' strategic or geopolitical significance, and yet I still can't help but ask: Why are certain programs acceptable for people in foreign countries, but not for people in the United States?
The thing is, do we have to choose between foreign aid and domestic programs? There are times when we do feel that we have to choose. I remember watching the West Wing, and President Jed Bartlet told Zoey's French boyfriend that the reason the U.S. does not spend as much money as France on domestic programs is because the U.S. is spending money protecting Europe! Do we have to choose? Well, if universal health care actually saves money, as some progressives like to argue, maybe we can have our cake and eat it, too. I don't know.
Sunday, December 1, 2013
The Second Coming of Christ, and Ambivalence
At church this morning, the pastor preached on Matthew 24:42. In the
King James Version, this passage states: “Watch therefore: for ye know
not what hour your Lord doth come.” The pastor noted, however, that the
word often translated as “Watch” is translated differently in some
versions. For example, the New Revised Standard Version has: “Keep
awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.”
The pastor was saying that watching or keeping awake is intended to be something positive. Jesus’ second coming, after all, is something that’s positive, in that it brings about forgiveness and renewal. When we watch, the pastor was saying, we’re like kids, eagerly anticipating Christmas and the presents that we will get.
I’m rather ambivalent when it comes to the topic of the Second Coming of Christ. On the one hand, I definitely realize that this world is in need of renewal—-and end to poverty, environmental devastation, war, natural disasters, exploitation of others, and the list goes on. On the other hand, I tend to recoil from certain tendencies that often accompany a belief in the Second Coming of Christ: belief that most people in the world are deceived and will suffer God’s wrath, discouragement of people from participating in politics on the basis of the idea that this world is bad and only Christ’s coming will solve problems, the spiritual stress the concept places on me to get my spiritual act together right now, etc.
The pastor was saying that watching or keeping awake is intended to be something positive. Jesus’ second coming, after all, is something that’s positive, in that it brings about forgiveness and renewal. When we watch, the pastor was saying, we’re like kids, eagerly anticipating Christmas and the presents that we will get.
I’m rather ambivalent when it comes to the topic of the Second Coming of Christ. On the one hand, I definitely realize that this world is in need of renewal—-and end to poverty, environmental devastation, war, natural disasters, exploitation of others, and the list goes on. On the other hand, I tend to recoil from certain tendencies that often accompany a belief in the Second Coming of Christ: belief that most people in the world are deceived and will suffer God’s wrath, discouragement of people from participating in politics on the basis of the idea that this world is bad and only Christ’s coming will solve problems, the spiritual stress the concept places on me to get my spiritual act together right now, etc.
President Nixon: Alone in the White House 17
On page 519 of President Nixon: Alone in the White House, Richard Reeves quotes a diary entry in which Richard Nixon said the following:
"The American leader class has really had it in terms of their ability to lead. It's really sickening to have to receive them at the White House as I often do and to hear them whine and whimper and that's one of the reasons why I enjoy very much more receiving labor leaders and people from middle America who still have character and guts and a bit of patriotism....Frankly, I have more in common with them from a personal standpoint than does McGovern or the intellectuals generally. They like labor as a mass. I like them individually...."
This makes me think about those with whom I connect, and those with whom I don't. I'd say that I have a hard time connecting with both your average working-Joe, and also with many of the intellectual types. But I do respect both----and not just because I as a Christian am obligated to respect all human beings, but also because both work hard and try to cope with the world, with all of their vulnerabilities.
"The American leader class has really had it in terms of their ability to lead. It's really sickening to have to receive them at the White House as I often do and to hear them whine and whimper and that's one of the reasons why I enjoy very much more receiving labor leaders and people from middle America who still have character and guts and a bit of patriotism....Frankly, I have more in common with them from a personal standpoint than does McGovern or the intellectuals generally. They like labor as a mass. I like them individually...."
This makes me think about those with whom I connect, and those with whom I don't. I'd say that I have a hard time connecting with both your average working-Joe, and also with many of the intellectual types. But I do respect both----and not just because I as a Christian am obligated to respect all human beings, but also because both work hard and try to cope with the world, with all of their vulnerabilities.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)