Beginning Backgammon

In a far-away land, in a seedy, smoke-ridden establishment filled to the rafter with the seedy underbelly of the world's lowest classes, I learned how to play backgammon.

I learned from a fat sheik, from the lands far to the east, where the sands spread out like oceans and the noon-day sun boils a man's brains.I sipped watered-down beer and he smoked from a some sort of device made from hoses and bottles. His eyelids dropped behind shaded, half-moon spectacles. He smelled of salt and chamomile and sand. I could not tell if The rough tears in my eyes could have been from his noisome turban, or the sooty atmosphere.

I had met the sheik earlier in the evening,. I do not remember exactly how, and in all frankness I do not wish to. Some details are best left forgotten. But we had spoken of many things together, of loves lost and wars won; and, our conversation had led us into the game. The sheik carried a backgammon set with him, and as I had never played before, he kindly offered to teach me the game. I acquiesced.
He chuckled as he moved the ivory pieces across the inlaid board of his Backgammon set.

"Long ago", he told me. "In the lands of my great fathers there was a beautiful city. This was the most beautiful city in all of the world, filled with poets and scholars and artists. It was a peaceful city, for the people abhorred violence. They much preferred to sing, or to dance, or to ponder the inexplicable mysteries of the universe. Nowhere in the city was there anything more than a polite disagreement. It was a tranquil city, and because of this it was also happy."

I moved two of my pieces into a scoring position as he drew a long haul from his strange smoking apparatus.

"Then on day, "he continued. "There came to the city a messenger. The messenger wore strange clothes made from the hides of beasts, the messenger spoke with a strange accent, and the messenger carried a sword. This last was the most odd, for the peaceful people of this city never carried swords through their streets, as they had no need to. The messenger came to the lords of this city and he spoke thus:

'I come bearing word to you, the Lords of this city, from the great Kha Khan, which is Great King. The Kha Khan sends word that he is coming westward. He sends word that he is coming here. The Kha Khan has conquered many cities: cities of warriors and cities of sages. All of these have fallen before his mighty sword. But my Kha Khan is merciful and he makes you an offer. In the east, my Kha Khan has learned many games of strategy and skill. He has learned of the game chess, and his scholars tell him it is the game that most captures the true glory of battle. And so, the Great King has spread the knowledge of this game, and with it he test his generals and captains. The Kha Khan's scholars says that chess is most like life, of all games. As you are men of wisdom and learning, the Kha Khan makes you this offer: If you can create a game more like life than chess, then he shall be merciful, else wise he shall burn your city to ash, and salt the earth upon which it stand.' "

The sheik captured one of my unguarded pieces. I had taken a chance in my position, relying on luck. This time it had failed me.

"The messenger left, saying that he would return in five days for their answer. The Lords of the City considered his words. For many days they pondered, reflecting on the nature of life. They considered justice, mercy, honour, love, and duty. The things that sages try for, the things that young men die for, and the things that maidens sigh for, They thought in silence, they spoke in hast, and they debated in heat."

I considere my next move.

"Time passed." I rolled a double, releasing my captured piece.

"The messenger returned for the pious men's answer; and, they gave it to him. The messenger was bemused, and he returned ot his Khan. The khan looked at the game the scholars had sent him. He played it deep into the night, considering it's aspects, its strategies, it's nuances." The sheik moved two more pieces, scoring once and positioning himself well for the next gambit.

"In the morning he summoned his general's and advisers. 'Look,' he told them. "What do you think of this game?' This scholars considered. 'My great lord,' they said. 'This game is surely inferior to chess, the game of our generals. Chess requires constant strategy, a manipulative mind that sees far into the future. This game depends as much on the luck of dice as it does the sharpness of a man's wits.For this reason, Chess is the greater game, more mirroring the needs of life and battle' The khan nodded. 'Is this your answer, then,' he asked. 'Surely it is, great lord.' And the Kha Khan nodded."

I rolled again. A four and a six. A lucky roll, allowing me to move two pieces in unison.

" 'Indeed,' spoke the Great Khan from his high throne. 'Chess, the game of our generals and wise men, is a game of pure strategy. But in the heat of battle, victory often hinges upon the luck of a single man. A single misplaced step, a fortunate sword thrust, or a stray arrow can lead to defeat with but a moments notice. Truly, the greatest strategist will know only failure without the blessing of Fortune. Thus, it is this game that truly captures the essence of battle. Of life.'' The Khan's advisers bowed their heads at this, for the knew the wisdom of the Kha Khan's words and the folly of their own. The Kha Khan moved his armies, and spared the city. And this is how the game of Backgammon came to be." The sheik finished his story, moving his final piece into position. His strategy was perfect, leaving me no openings.

I rolled the dice.

Biblical Truthiness

One of the tenants of Christianity that causes quite a bit of fuss is the assertion that the Bible represent the literal Word of God. This tenant of the faith never fails to stir up men's emotions, causing harsh and even bitter arguments, even among the truest of friends. While I have come to understand the positions of those on both sides of the issue, I've reached a point in my life at which I can confidently say that I just don't care.

My position, one that I believe to be unique amongst both the Faithful and the Godless, is that the question of whether or not the Bible comes unadulterated from the word of the Almighty is moot. It simply has no practical implications for me. and my reasoning is quite simple: It's because I've READ the Bible.

I know what's good about the Good Book; and to be utterly fair, it really is good. The message carried by the New Testament: one of Faith, Hope and Love (I usually ignore Leviticus) is one so profound that I think it speaks for itself. I think the words stand on their own.

I don't think the Bible needs the additional credibility associated with Divine Mandate. The lessons learned from it's parables carry no more weight when narrated by the Angels than by a Jewish carpenter who never went to work. It makes absolutely no difference to me. I don't agree with the Bible because of Heavenly Writ, I agree with the Bible because I think it's right: an opinion utterly unaffected by it's origin.

I treat the Bible as a useful moral and philosophical tool, providing insight in moments when I find myself sucked into a the depths of a moral quagmire. I don't care if I buy a hammer from Home Depot or Lowe's. I care if the hammer helps me build a fence. By the same logic, I don't care with from whence the Bible comes. It's there. It's useful. I'll use it.

If the issue of it's authorship is really so crucial to your Faith, then by all means continue the arguments; but I'm going to grab a beer, I've got a fence to finish.

I recently gave a speech at a memorial for Howard Terry, the founder of the Terry Foundation, which provides scholarships for students to attend Texas Public Universities:

My name is Charles Cliff.
Some of you may know me. Some of you may simply know of me. Some of you may be surprised that I am speaking to you today; I confess I'm a bit surprised myself.
When Blythe asked me to speak on behalf of the Terry Scholar Alumni, I set ut to collect my thoughts and compose an epitaph to honour Howard Terry.

But, to be honest, I found this extremely difficult. I met Howard Terry only in short, sparse encounters. I cannot honestly say that I knew the man; and, I have never been entirely comfortable speaking on subjects with which I am so unfamiliar.

So I found myself doing something I had not done in several years: I opened my Bible.

And in Mathew, I found something not entirely unlike an answer.

This particular verse says: "Thus you will know them by their fruits".

Reading this, I realized that perhaps I knew Howard Terry better than I thought. If I wish to know Howard Terry, I need only look to the young men and women here today.

Because I know Chris Moore, I know Howard was hard-working.
Because I know Alexandra Wilson, I know Howard was kind.
Because I know Tania Foster, I know Howard was a bit bossy.

But above all these things, I know Howard was immensely proud of each of you, because I am proud of you.

I have seen each of you grow into bright and strong men and women. The works that you have done leave a testament that can never be over-written.

Howard Terry's memorial will extend beyond this one day to the rest of ours.

Howard Terry will be known through the lives you scholars choose to lead.

The Things we do will continue to etch his story into the pages of history.

My friends, let's make that story a good one.