. . . is Luther turning over in his grave . . .

Well, what difference does doctrine make to the ELCA these days? It’s already in full communion with TEC, which starting taking a blue pencil to the Thirty-nine Articles before the confession’s ink was dry, and with the Reformed Church in America, whose theology is a typical American hodge-podge of evangelical minimalism and mainline reductionism. (A Belgic Confession to the average RCA pew-sitter is something that happens under duress before the European Parliament in Brussels.)

So the discrepancies in the traditional understanding of the sacraments—real presence vs. real absence, baptismal regeneration vs. covenant sign vs. church membership—much ado about nothing? Forget about the old synergism vs. monergism debate: The mainline verges on universalism, so the distinction is meaningless.

Why not merge the churches and be done with it—they’re already bleeding more members than a convention of mohelim. One great pan-Protestant denomination—First Church of the Grand High Exalted Mystic Vague—where all are welcome, because all are one, and between self and nonself exists only an unpaid student loan. The gospel, like Gaul, will be divided into three parts: The Law, the Gospel, and the Adorable Huggables. And the only moral theology will consist of being overdrawn on your carbon credits . . .

I will let Herr Luther have the last word: “But Christ tells you and me something far different. He says: My church is where my Word is preached purely and is unadulterated and kept. Therefore St. Paul warns that we should flee and avoid those who would lead us away from God’s Word, for if anyone defiles God’s temple, which we are, God will destroy him (1 Cor. 3:17). And St. Peter also says: Take heed, if you are going to preach, then you should preach nothing but God’s Word (1 Pet. 4:11), otherwise you will defile God’s church.”

I was just looking at the Wikipedia article on Capablanca, Anthony, and it quotes an interesting evaluation of Capablanca given by Bobby Fischer in a 2006 (!) radio interview. Here’s what Fischer said:

Morphy and Capablanca had enormous talent, Steinitz was very great too. Alekhine was great, but I am not a big fan of his. Maybe it’s just my taste. I’ve studied his games a lot, but I much prefer Capablanca and Morphy. Alekhine had a rather heavy style, Capablanca was much more brilliant and talented, he had a real light touch. Everyone I’ve spoken to who saw Capablanca play still speak of him with awe. If you showed him any position he would instantly tell you the right move. When I used to go to the Manhattan Chess Club back in the fifties, I met a lot of old-timers there who knew Capablanca, because he used to come around to the Manhattan club in the forties—before he died in the early forties. They spoke about Capablanca with awe. I have never seen people speak about any chess player like that, before or since.” —Bobby Fischer, Icelandic Radio Interview, 2006

My father, when he was in his teens, actually saw Capablanca give a simultaneous exhibition at the Manhattan Chess Club. Oh! What I would have given to have seen that! I did see Fischer give a simultaneous once. And on another occasion, I narrowly missed the opportunity of playing him! Not competitively, needless to say. It happened like this. I was a lad of about 15, I had a few bucks to spend on a Saturday morning. “Should I buy that copy of Pillsbury’s Chess Career that I’ve been wanting to get, or shall I go and play at Chess House?” I decided to buy the book and play at Chess House Sunday. When I showed up at Chess House on Sunday afternoon, I learned that Fischer had been there the day before and was playing all comers!

The habitués of Chess House (which was on 72nd Street, but no longer exists) were mostly elderly Jewish men. The air was dense with pipe and cigar smoke. Opponents did not talk to each other much, but it was the custom to engage in incessant thinking aloud, chattering to oneself, and verbigeration. Once, when I blundered by leaving a knight en prise (meaning undefended and liable to capture)—or in the chess slang “hanging”—my elderly opponent wondered aloud, “Why is this knight different from any other knight?” I thought he was just making a sarcastic comment about my play, until ten years later I finally got the joke while watching a TV show about Passover!

David Warren at Real Clear Politics has a very good article on Canada’s “human rights commissions,” which put people on trial for saying things that these human rights commissions dislike. That’s a bit glib, but only a bit. Ezra Levant published the Danish cartoons on the Prophet Mohammed to show his readers that all the fuss was overblown. He is now on trial before an Alberta human rights tribunal. Catholic Insight, a monthly magazine published in Toronto, is being prosecuted by a man in Edmonton for upholding the Church’s teaching on marriage and homosexual behavior. Even if he differs with the content or tone of such publications, an American can be grateful for the freedom of speech. Not so for Canadians, it would appear. Warren describes the situation as follows:

There are other meandering cases in the works, or that were in the works, often against Internet website owners or the contributors to their online forums. It is almost impossible to get clear information about these. In the notification process, the recipient of a human rights complaint need not be told who the complainant is, or what he is alleging. The recipient is just left to guess for a while, as the bureaucratic machinery of quasi-legal “justice” proceeds at its glacial pace. Truth and rumours become hard to distinguish in this kafkaesque environment.

These human rights commissions are worth keeping an eye on. Though a healthy respect for the freedom of speech exists in most of America, let us hope that these “human rights” commissions can be quarantined and eliminated in Canada lest they spread south.

The search has begun. Maybe you’ve seen the ad in the last issue, the announcement online, Jody’s notice, or Nathaniel’s blog post: First Things is now accepting applications for next year’s junior fellows.

Not sure you fit the bill? Take the quiz below to find out!

1) My bookshelves are (a) double-stacked and collapsing under the weight; (b) the perfect place for my heirloom shot-glass collection; (c) who needs books in the Age of the Internet?

2) Writing college essays made me (a) energized, even if due in part to late-night over-caffeination; (b) stiff-fingered and queasy-stomached; (c) how many pages left?

3) New York City: (a) Opera and theater and concerts, oh my! (b) Sirens and screeching and subways, oh no! (c) Give me a home where the buffalo roam…

4) Reading and talking about great ideas 40+ hours a week: (a) when can I start? (b) second only to paintball; (c) zzzzzzzzzz.

5) The nation’s leading journal of religion, culture, and public life: (a) First Things; (b) The New York Times; (c) The Onion.

Mostly A’s—The few, the proud, the junior fellows: Send your application today!
B’s and C’s—Explore further options: here and here.

[N.B. Mary and Nathaniel beg to add that The Onion is a fine and estimable journal. Ryan reminds me that he avoids all NY culture which does not fall within his 5-block radius. And have you ever seen my heirloom shot-glass collection?]
Apply here, apply now.

Funny you should mention Capablanca, Steve. I’m almost finished with Michael Chabon’s The Yiddish Policeman’s Union, which focuses on the murder of a chess prodigy (who may also be the Messiah; it helps to have a Plan B should the board game thingee not work out). Capablanca’s name surfaces more often than any other historical chess champ in the book, which is unusual, as the Cuban master is usually usurped in such discussions by Fischer and the later Russians.

And speaking of Nabokov . . . if you want to check out a fairly decent adaptation of his The Defense— about a chess master who is on the ragged edge of sanity and too easily played by friends turned opponents—then rent The Luzhin Defence. Warning: The ending has been Hollywooded, and would undoubtedly have made Nabokov contemplate self-defenestration. (Can one, technically, self-defenestrate? Or by definition is it always an act one person performs on another?)

“We regret to announce that due to unforeseen circumstances beyond our control, the publication of The Astrological Magazine will cease with the December 2007 issue.”

(Hat tip: The Volokh Conspiracy.)

Driving around Las Vegas this morning and listening to the radio, I heard a news item on Bobby Fischer’s death, which reminded me why conservatives are so often infuriated by National Public Radio: The news reader noted Fischer’s death, called him the greatest chess player of all time, and then said that Fischer had, later in life, become “critical of the American government” and moved to Iceland. The abstraction made Fischer sound like a stately dissident, not the anti-Semitic, mentally ill crazy he actually is. I suppose that for NPR, being critical of the American government is enough; the how or why is unimportant.

Stephen Barr’s item about Fischer here on the First Things website is quite excellent—and much more thoughtful.

In other NPR news, the item immediately following the Fischer notice was a summary of Andy Roddick being upset early this morning at the Australian Open. They said that Roddick was “picked apart” by an “unheralded” German player.

With my body still stuck on East Coast time, I stayed up and saw most of the match. It was a thrilling 5-set affair, going 8-6 in the fifth. It was also some of the highest level tennis you’ll ever see: Roddick finished with more than 40 aces and both players had something like 4 winners for every unforced error. I was a little bleary, but I think there were only three breaks of serve for the entire match. It was the type of epic match that will be talked about for years; nobody got “picked apart.” Oh, and the “unheralded” German was Philipp Kohlschreiber, who’s actually the 29th seed and the most promising German player since Michael Stich.

Not that any of that matters, I suppose.

Bobby Fischer was one of my many childhood heroes. Of course, there is no getting away from the strange and, with the years, increasingly ugly side of his personality. And yet there was another side of Fischer that should not be forgotten, and by chess players never will be. He was the creator of immortal masterpieces, works of sublime beauty.

Chess players have long debated whether chess is an art, a science, or a sport. It is obviously none of those things, though it has some of the elements of each. It is geometry brought to life, a battle of wills conducted in the realm of pure mathematical form. There are certain kinds of beauty that every normal person can appreciate: that of a sunset, a flower, a piece of music, a beautiful woman. There are other kinds that are accessible to very few—only to those with specialized skill and technical knowledge. The beauty to be found in the higher reaches of mathematics and physics are prime examples. When the eminent physicist Edward Witten rhapsodized to an uncomprehending science journalist about the mathematical structure of superstring theory (“I don’t think I have succeeded in conveying to you its wonder, incredible consistency, remarkable elegance and beauty”), he was expressing a delight that only a handful of people in the world could ever share. While the number of those who can appreciate the beauty of a chess masterpiece is far greater, it is still a tiny minority of the human race. “Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.” What Keats meant by that, I am not sure; but, sadly, some of the most sublime works of human genius must of their nature remain unheard by all but a few.

The word genius is thrown about too easily. There are some people, however, whose gifts are so prodigious that they seem to lie far beyond human limits. How can one explain a Mozart? The music poured out of him without effort. As a boy, he wrote to his father, “Papa, I piss music.” According to Einstein’s biographer Banesh Hoffmann, when someone suggested to Einstein that Beethoven was a greater composer than Mozart, “He would have none of it. He said that Beethoven created his music, but Mozart’s music was so pure that it seemed to have been ever-present in the universe waiting to be discovered by the master.”

The “Mozart of chess” is often said to be the great Cuban genius Jose Raul Capablanca (1888–1942), perhaps the greatest natural chess talent of all time. The great American grandmaster Rueben Fine wrote of Capablanca: “What others could not discover in a month’s study he saw at a glance. Everything [in chess] came to him as naturally as walking: effort, exertion, study were for him superfluous. . . . Others might gape and wonder, and try in vain to analyze how he did it . . . to Capa [it was] as easy as breathing.” The rapidity of his play astonished everyone. Fine, who at “blitz” play (where the whole game must be played in a time limit of a few minutes for each side) was able to hold his own against even world champions like Alekhine, recalled that Capablanca always used to beat him “with ridiculous ease.” The comparison with Mozart is apt in other ways. Capablanca’s style is regarded as the most “pure” among the great champions. It had an appearance of simplicity and ease that was deceptive. In the words of a later world champion, Mikhail Botvinnik, “Capablanca’s play produced and still produces an irresistable artistic effect. In his games a tendency towards simplicity predominated, and in this simplicity there was a unique beauty of genuine depth.”

Fischer’s genius was on the same scale as Capablanca’s. But whereas Capablanca was notoriously lazy, and devoted almost no study to the game (which was eventually his undoing), Fischer throughout his career worked at developing his skill with single-minded intensity and was possessed by a ferocious will to win. These factors made him, in the words of Garry Kasparov, “an all-conquering titan.” But beyond the competitive aspect of the game, there is the artistic side. The two, of course, are not unrelated. Fischer himself wrote: “Chess is an art, of course. But I wasn’t thinking of that. Only accurate, strong play can be pretty . . .”

How to explain the Einsteins, the Mozarts, the Capablancas, the Fischers? Can one explain them with natural selection, and bell-shaped curves, and neurotransmitters? Can one explain them at all? True genius is like something fallen from the heavens into our world. We can only “gape and wonder.” Of course, it is not related to wisdom, or moral goodness, or even mental health. The loathsome aspects of Fischer’s behavior and beliefs are plain for all to see. But let us not forget that he also enriched the world with works of enchanting beauty.

Next Tuesday, January 22, is the 35th annual March for Life. I was fortunate to make it down to D.C. for the march (and the weekend conferences leading up to it) several times when I was a student at Princeton and in the years immediately thereafter. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to make it this year, but for those of you who might be able to make it, here is a schedule of pro-life events for the long weekend–it highlights the Students for Life of America Conference, Rock for Life Training & Activism Weekend, Cardinal O’Connor Conference, National Prayer Vigil for Life at the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, Rally for Life and Youth Mass 2008, Lutherans for Life worship service, Silent No More rally, and much more. It really is a great weekend and a great march for a great cause.

Also, something new this year, the Catholic Information Center will be offering a pro-life bloggers discount. But contact them soon, because you have to register by the end of today. Dawn Eden sends along this note:

The Catholic Information Center, downtown Washington’s “street parish” — thought to be the first U.S. Catholic bookstore on Facebook — is poised to be “Blogger Central” on the day of the 2008 March for Life, with free wireless Internet, a 15% discount for pro-life bloggers, and a tea party, plus celebrity book and DVD signings.

“Our store and chapel have traditionally been a respite stop for March-for-Life participants,” noted CIC manager Kevin Jones. “This year, we wanted to do something more, so—since we already offer free wireless internet—we decided to create some special incentives to encourage marchers to show their support for the Culture of Life on the web.”

The 15% discount for pro-life bloggers will apply all day on January 21-22. To receive the discount, pro-life bloggers must register in advance by e-mailing their name and blog URL to info@cicdc.org by Friday, January 18. On the day of the march, those who have registered may give their name to the CIC cashier to receive the discount on anything the store sells, including books, rosaries, jewelry, prayer cards, religious decorations, and stationery.

For the purpose of this discount, and to encourage pro-lifers to have a strong Web presence, the CIC is defining a “pro-life blog” as any family-friendly Web site that actively promotes the culture of life. This includes MySpace and Facebook pages, so long as they contain a prominently displayed pro-life item.

The bookstore recently augmented its own Web site, www.cicdc.org, with a “Catholic Information Center” Facebook page — believed to be the first-ever Facebook fan club for a U.S. Catholic bookstore.

Bloggers who visit the CIC during the afternoon of January 22 will find a special treat: a tea party immediately following the March for Life, from 3-6 p.m., hosted by Dawn Patrol blogger Dawn Eden. Eden, who has appeared on EWTN’s “Life on the Rock,” will be signing copies of her book The Thrill of the Chaste: Finding Fulfillment While Keeping Your Clothes On, which will be available for 25% off the cover price.

Christopher Hitchens has a thought-provoking column on these issues in today’s Wall Street Journal. A taste:

Here again, the problem is that Sen. Obama wants us to transcend something at the same time he implicitly asks us to give that same something as a reason to vote for him. I must say that the lyricism with which he does this has double and triple the charm of Mrs. Clinton’s heavily-scripted trudge through the landscape, but the irony is still the same.

What are we trying to “get over” here? We are trying to get over the hideous legacy of slavery and segregation. But Mr. Obama is not a part of this legacy. His father was a citizen of Kenya, an independent African country, and his mother was a “white” American. He is as distant from the real “plantation” as I am. How — unless one thinks obsessively about color while affecting not to do so — does this make him “black”?

Far from taking us forward, this sort of discussion actually keeps us anchored in the past. The enormous advances in genome studies have effectively discredited the whole idea of “race” as a means of categorizing humans. And however ethnicity may be defined or subdivided, it is utterly unscientific and retrograde to confuse it with color. The number of subjective definitions of “racist” is almost infinite but the only objective definition of the word is “one who believes that there are human races.”

For years, I declined to fill in the form for my Senate press credential that asked me to state my “race,” unless I was permitted to put “human.” The form had to be completed under penalty of perjury, so I could not in conscience put “white,” which is not even a color let alone a “race,” and I sternly declined to put “Caucasian,” which is an exploded term from a discredited ethnology. Surely the essential and unarguable core of King’s campaign was the insistence that pigmentation was a false measure: a false measure of mankind (yes, mankind) and an inheritance from a time of great ignorance and stupidity and cruelty, when one drop of blood could make you “black.”

Hitchens deals with the Democrats running identity campaigns, Rich Lowry has a column on Huckabee’s identity politics here:

There are enough evangelicals in South Carolina and Florida for Huckabee to do well in the weeks ahead, but, ultimately, he is bound by the limits of his own Christian identity politics.

He was 64.

If you were a chess obsessive, especially a kid chess obsessive like me, you replicated with robotic obedience Fischer’s wild championship games with Boris Spassky back in 1972. Fischer defeated the Russian champion after a series of famously goofy delays in which Fischer complained of, among other things, being spied upon and the offensively shiny veneer of the chess table.

Fischer walked away from a 1975 championship match with Anatoly Karpov, demanding an unlimited number of games, as opposed to the set number that had become the FIDE standard. Karpov was eventually named world chess champion by default. Fischer did not play again for twenty years, all the while boasting he had never lost a championship game.

The cranky monomaniac extraordinaire, Fischer’s eccentricities turned antisemitic, Holocaust-denying, and conspiratorial. He was for a time a member of the late Herbert W. Armstrong’s now fragmented Worldwide Church of God. He spent his later years hopping from one country to another, denouncing the U.S. as a Jewish-controlled dictatorship, taking glee in the September 11 terrorist attacks, and finally finding asylum in Reykjavik, the site of his original chess bout with Spassky. (A U.S. arrest warrant had been issued for Fischer after he participated in a rematch with Spassky in Yugoslavia in 1992. An embargo had been placed on “sporting events” in the former East European republic.)

The subject of much amateur psychoanalysis and at least a couple of movies/videos, Fischer both fascinated and repelled. There will be much more to say about him by chess enthusiasts and psychologists alike. One wonders if postmortems will include talk of some form of bipolar disease (think Howard Hughes).