The Ethical And Moral Issue - 945 Words

Recent research suggests that human beings have the technology to revert species extinction. Scientists are able to reassemble the DNA in a dead tissue of extinct animals. However, the DNA is not perfect because it contains bacteria, fungi, or other micro-organism’s DNA. Scientists have to find their closest living relative and reassemble the missing gene to form a hybrid gene. These technique can potentially bring any extinct animal back as long as we have its DNA. For this new technology, we will be using the theory of Utilitarianism to examine the ethics behind it. The main ethical and moral issue comes with the out come of the extinct species enter the wild. Firstly, my view is that recreated extinct species equals alien species. My definition of alien species is plant, animal, or microorganism that is not currently living in a place but are transported into the area. This means, all extinct species are alien species to our current environment if we bring any of them back. They might be the most abundant species on the area when they were alive, for example, the passenger pigeon was once the most abundant species in North America. However, once they went extinct, the food chain and ecosystem began to not depend on their existence. Therefore, the question will be, what happen when we introduce there extinct species into wild? And does the happiness outweigh the risk? What might happen when introducing an alien species to an area? For the native species, these alienShow MoreRelatedMoral and Ethical Issues1713 Words   |  7 PagesMoral and ethical issues greet us each morning in the newspaper, confront us in the fundamentals of our daily jobs, encounter us from our childrens daily school activities, and bid us good night on the evening news. We are bombarded daily with discussions of drug abuse, the morality of medical technologies that can prolong our lives, the rights of the homeless and abortion, the fairness of our childrens teachers to the divers e students in their classrooms, and sexual morality. Dealing with theseRead MoreEthical And Moral Issues Relevant963 Words   |  4 Pagesnot communicate well in English, the doctor assumes he is Vietnamese. The doctor wants to let the police and Child Protective Services know about this case, but she came to the Ethics Committee and now it is up to us to make our decision. Ethical or Moral Issues Relevant in the Case: Social contract theory does apply to this case in a small variation which is explained by Kymlicka by, â€Å"One approach stresses a natural equality of physical power, which makes it mutually advantageous for people to acceptRead MoreThe Problem Of Moral And Ethical Issue986 Words   |  4 Pagesby her doctor on November 1 surrounded by her family. Her story has gone viral. Millions have been inspired by her strength and bravery. Also there are many arguments for death with dignity and against it. There are many concerning about moral and ethical issue. Is it â€Å"Right to die† or â€Å"Right to live†? What about Medical World’s opinion? Keep the Hippocratic Oath or Respect Patient’s Dignity? Religious aspect is also important, is your belief can get over the life-end suffering? In 1994 Oregon StateRead MoreThe Ethical And Moral Issues Of The Adoption Essay2140 Words   |  9 Pages With adoption there are often many issues that can arise. The issues during an adoption can range from ethical, moral, to legal issues. One might think there could be many legal issues when it comes to an adoption, but not many may think of the ethical and moral issues that can come about in the adoption process. Ethical issues can arise in the post adoption process by the way of wrongful adoption liability. This issue pertains to two categories, fraud as the basis for wrongful adoption, and negligenceRead MoreThe Moral And Ethical Issues Of Artificial Intelligence1151 Words   |  5 Pagesfertilization, surrogate motherhood, and human cloning once were considered immoral, but since moral codes changed due to cultural settings, they became interweaved into the culture’s fabric and became acceptable. The key to understanding the moral and ethical issues raised by artificial intelligence are the four levels on which intelligent artifacts raise ethical and moral problems. The first level concerns the ethical uses of computers and how humans respond to a world that is constantly being transformedRead MoreThe Ethical And Moral Issues Of Organ Transplantation1014 Words   |  5 Pagesas well as an increasing number of deaths while waiting. These events have raised many ethical, moral and societal issues regarding supply, the methods by which the organs are being allocated, and the use of living donors as volunteers. This paper will talk about the ethical and moral issues generated by the current advances in organ transplantation, the problem of organ supply versus organ demand, and the ethical dilemma behind allocating of the small amount of available organs being donated. TheRead MoreEssay on Moral and Ethical Issues of Euthanasia1521 Words   |  7 PagesMoral and Ethical Issues of Euthanasia    As we all know, medical treatment can help save lives. But is there a medical treatment that would actually help end life? Although its often debated upon, the procedure is still used to help the aid of a patients death. Usually dubbed as mercy killing, euthanasia is the practice of ending a life so as to release an individual from an incurable disease or intolerable suffering (Encarta). My argument over this topic is that euthanasia should haveRead MoreAnimal Cruelty Is An Ethical And Moral Issue Essay1273 Words   |  6 PagesHow is this an ethical and moral issue? What are the different opinions about the actual issue or how to solve the issue? Animal cruelty can be either deliberate abuse or simply the failure to take care of an animal. Either way, or whether the animal is a pet, a farm animal or wildlife, the victim can suffer terribly. Animal cruelty is an ethical and moral dilemma as there is no clear right or wrong answers that can solve all of the issues. There are numerous opinions on how this issue can be solvedRead MoreEthical And Moral Issues With Vitro Fertilization1517 Words   |  7 PagesToday I will be showing and comparing the Ethical and Moral issues with in-vitro-fertilization. In-vitro-fertilization is reproductive technology referred to as IVF. IVF is the process of fertilization by combining an egg and sperm in a laboratory dish (outside the human body) then transferring the embryo(fertilized egg) to the uterus. Other forms of reproductive technology are gamete intrafallopian transfer (GIFT is an assisted reproductive procedure which involves removing a woman’s eggs, mixingRead MoreMoral and Eth ical Issues in Gene Therapy5753 Words   |  24 PagesMoral and Ethical Issues in Gene Therapy Introduction Genetic research has advanced in a dramatic fashion in the last decade or so, to the point where it has now become possible to attempt therapeutic genetic modification, in a few cases of human genes, where a defects exists which manifests itself in certain serious diseases. This possibility, known as gene therapy, is only in its infancy. At present, no one knows how effective it will prove to be, even in the few conditions on which it is being

The Role of Sight, Scent, and Sound by the White-tailed Deer

Use and relative role of sight, scent, and sound by white-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus) to locate and select between different types of foods Introduction The foraging habits of white-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus; hereafter deer) have been extensively researched. Studies have evaluated seasonal influence as well as other environmental influences on forage selection by deer (Moen 1981, Rogers et al. 1981, McCullough 1985, and others). However, no such research has ever tested to determine what senses deer use to locate and select between different food types or the relative importance of each sense involved in that process. We are missing much of the basic knowledge of physiology and anatomy related to the sensory capabilities of deer (D’Angelo et al. 2006). Information from this type of research is becoming increasingly important to wildlife biologists, as they can use it to improve other forage selection studies aimed at reducing crop depredation or other wildlife damage. So little is known about the role of sight, smell, and sound in deer ability to locate and select between forage types, therefore quantitative in formation in this area of research needs further attention (Sayre et al. 1992). By understanding the importance of each sense in the location and selection of different food types by deer, new studies can be set up that focus on the most important sense, while also considering what effects the other senses have on their behavior. As

Lamb The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal Chapter 1 Free Essays

Prologue The angel was cleaning out his closets when the call came. Halos and moonbeams were sorted into piles according to brightness, satchels of wrath and scabbards of lightning hung on hooks waiting to be dusted. A wineskin of glory had leaked in the corner and the angel blotted it with a wad of fabric. We will write a custom essay sample on Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal Chapter 1 or any similar topic only for you Order Now Each time he turned the cloth a muted chorus rang from the closet, as if he’d clamped the lid down on a pickle jar full of Hallelujah Chorus. â€Å"Raziel, what in heaven’s name are you doing?† The archangel Stephan was standing over him, brandishing a scroll like a rolled-up magazine over a piddling puppy. â€Å"Orders?† the angel asked. â€Å"Dirt-side.† â€Å"I was just there.† â€Å"Two millennia ago.† â€Å"Really?† Raziel checked his watch, then tapped the crystal. â€Å"Are you sure?† â€Å"What do you think?† Stephan held out the scroll so Raziel could see the Burning Bush seal. â€Å"When do I leave? I was almost finished here.† â€Å"Now. Pack the gift of tongues and some minor miracles. No weapons, it’s not a wrath job. You’ll be undercover. Very low profile, but important. It’s all in the orders.† Stephan handed him the scroll. â€Å"Why me?† â€Å"I asked that too.† â€Å"And?† â€Å"I was reminded why angels are cast out.† â€Å"Whoa! That big?† Stephan coughed, clearly an affectation, since angels didn’t breathe. â€Å"I’m not sure I’m supposed to know, but the rumor is that it’s a new book.† â€Å"You’re kidding. A sequel? Revelations 2, just when you thought it was safe to sin?† â€Å"It’s a Gospel.† â€Å"A Gospel, after all this time? Who?† â€Å"Levi who is called Biff.† Raziel dropped his rag and stood. â€Å"This has to be a mistake.† â€Å"It comes directly from the Son.† â€Å"There’s a reason Biff isn’t mentioned in the other books, you know? He’s a total – â€Å" â€Å"Don’t say it.† â€Å"But he’s such an asshole.† â€Å"You talk like that and you wonder why you get dirt-duty.† â€Å"Why now, after so long, the four Gospels have been fine so far, and why him?† â€Å"Because it’s some kind of anniversary in dirt-dweller time of the Son’s birth, and he feels it’s time the whole story is told.† Raziel hung his head. â€Å"I’d better pack.† â€Å"Gift of tongues,† Stephan reminded. â€Å"Of course, so I can take crap in a thousand languages.† â€Å"Go get the good news, Raziel. Bring me back some chocolate.† â€Å"Chocolate?† â€Å"It’s a dirt-dweller snack. You’ll like it. Satan invented it.† â€Å"Devil’s food?† â€Å"You can only eat so much white cake, my friend.† Midnight. The angel stood on a barren hillside on the outskirts of the holy city of Jerusalem. He raised his arms aloft and a dry wind whipped his white robe around him. â€Å"Arise, Levi who is called Biff.† A whirlwind formed before him, pulling dust from the hillside into a column that took the shape of a man. â€Å"Arise, Biff. Your time has come.† The wind whipped into a fury and the angel pulled the sleeve of his robe across his face. â€Å"Arise, Biff, and walk again among the living.† The whirlwind began to subside, leaving the man-shaped column of dust standing on the hillside. In a moment, the hillside was calm again. The angel pulled a gold vessel from his satchel and poured it over the column. The dust washed away, leaving a muddy, naked man sputtering in the starlight. â€Å"Welcome back to the living,† the angel said. The man blinked, then held his hand before his eyes as if he expected to see through it. â€Å"I’m alive,† he said in a language he had never heard before. â€Å"Yes,† the angel said. â€Å"What are these sounds, these words?† â€Å"You have been given the gift of tongues.† â€Å"I’ve always had the gift of tongues, ask any girl I’ve known. What are these words?† â€Å"Languages. You’ve been given the gift of languages, as were all the apostles.† â€Å"Then the kingdom has come.† â€Å"Yes.† â€Å"How long?† â€Å"Two thousand years ago.† â€Å"You worthless bag of dog shit,† said Levi who was called Biff, as he punched the angel in the mouth. â€Å"You’re late.† The angel picked himself up and gingerly touched his lip. â€Å"Nice talk to a messenger of the Lord.† â€Å"It’s a gift,† Biff said. Part I The Boy God is a comedian playing to an audience that is afraid to laugh. VOLTAIRE Chapter 1 You think you know how this story is going to end, but you don’t. Trust me, I was there. I know. The first time I saw the man who would save the world he was sitting near the central well in Nazareth with a lizard hanging out of his mouth. Just the tail end and the hind legs were visible on the outside; the head and forelegs were halfway down the hatch. He was six, like me, and his beard had not come in fully, so he didn’t look much like the pictures you’ve seen of him. His eyes were like dark honey, and they smiled at me out of a mop of blue-black curls that framed his face. There was a light older than Moses in those eyes. â€Å"Unclean! Unclean!† I screamed, pointing at the boy, so my mother would see that I knew the Law, but she ignored me, as did all the other mothers who were filling their jars at the well. The boy took the lizard from his mouth and handed it to his younger brother, who sat beside him in the sand. The younger boy played with the lizard for a while, teasing it until it reared its little head as if to bite, then he picked up a rock and mashed the creature’s head. Bewildered, he pushed the dead lizard around in the sand, and once assured that it wasn’t going anywhere on its own, he picked it up and handed it back to his older brother. Into his mouth went the lizard, and before I could accuse, out it came again, squirming and alive and ready to bite once again. He handed it back to his younger brother, who smote it mightily with the rock, starting or ending the whole process again. I watched the lizard die three more times before I said, â€Å"I want to do that too.† The Savior removed the lizard from his mouth and said, â€Å"Which part?† By the way, his name was Joshua. Jesus is the Greek translation of the Hebrew Yeshua, which is Joshua. Christ is not a last name. It’s the Greek for messiah, a Hebrew word meaning anointed. I have no idea what the â€Å"H† in Jesus H. Christ stood for. It’s one of the things I should have asked him. Me? I am Levi who is called Biff. No middle initial. Joshua was my best friend. The angel says I’m supposed to just sit down and write my story, forget about what I’ve seen in this world, but how am I to do that? In the last three days I have seen more people, more images, more wonders, than in all my thirty-three years of living, and the angel asks me to ignore them. Yes, I have been given the gift of tongues, so I see nothing without knowing the word for it, but what good does that do? Did it help in Jerusalem to know that it was a Mercedes that terrified me and sent me diving into a Dumpster? Moreover, after Raziel pulled me out and ripped my fingernails back as I struggled to stay hidden, did it help to know that it was a Boeing 747 that made me cower in a ball trying to rock away my own tears and shut out the noise and fire? Am I a little child, afraid of its own shadow, or did I spend twenty-seven years at the side of the Son of God? On the hill where he pulled me from the dust, the angel said, â€Å"You will see many strange things. Do not be afraid. You have a holy mission and I will protect you.† Smug bastard. Had I known what he would do to me I would have hit him again. Even now he lies on the bed across the room, watching pictures move on a screen, eating the sticky sweet called Snickers, while I scratch out my tale on this soft-as-silk paper that reads Hyatt Regency, St. Louis at the top. Words, words, words, a million million words circle in my head like hawks, waiting to dive onto the page to rend and tear the only two words I want to write. Why me? There were fifteen of us – well, fourteen after I hung Judas – so why me? Joshua always told me not to be afraid, for he would always be with me. Where are you, my friend? Why have you forsaken me? You wouldn’t be afraid here. The towers and machines and the shine and stink of this world would not daunt you. Come now, I’ll order a pizza from room service. You would like pizza. The servant who brings it is named Jesus. And he’s not even a Jew. You always liked irony. Come, Joshua, the angel says you are yet with us, you can hold him down while I pound him, then we will rejoice in pizza. Raziel has been looking at my writing and is insisting that I stop whining and get on with the story. Easy for him to say, he didn’t just spend the last two thousand years buried in the dirt. Nevertheless, he won’t let me order pizza until I finish a section, so here goes†¦ I was born in Galilee, the town of Nazareth, in the time of Herod the Great. My father, Alphaeus, was a stonemason and my mother, Naomi, was plagued by demons, or at least that’s what I told everyone. Joshua seemed to think she was just difficult. My proper name, Levi, comes from the brother of Moses, the progenitor of the tribe of priests; my nickname, Biff, comes from our slang word for a smack upside the head, something that my mother said I required at least daily from an early age. I grew up under Roman rule, although I didn’t see many Romans until I was ten. The Romans mostly stayed in the fortress city of Sepphoris, an hour’s walk north of Nazareth. That’s where Joshua and I saw a Roman soldier murdered, but I’m getting ahead of myself. For now, assume that the soldier is safe and sound and happy wearing a broom on his head. Most of the people of Nazareth were farmers, growing grapes and olives on the rocky hills outside of town and barley and wheat in the valleys below. There were also herders of goats and sheep whose families lived in town while the men and older boys tended the flocks in the highlands. Our houses were all made of stone, and ours had a stone floor, although many had floors of hard-packed dirt. I was the oldest of three sons, so even at the age of six I was being prepared to learn my father’s trade. My mother taught my spoken lessons, the Law and stories from the Torah in Hebrew, and my father took me to the synagogue to hear the elders read the Bible. Aramaic was my first language, but by the time I was ten I could speak and read Hebrew as well as most of the men. My ability to learn Hebrew and the Torah was spurred on by my friendship with Joshua, for while the other boys would be playing a round of tease the sheep or kick the Canaanite, Joshua and I played at being rabbis, and he insisted that we stick to the authentic Hebrew for our ceremonies. It was more fun than it sounds, or at least it was until my mother caught us trying to circumcise my little brother Shem with a sharp rock. What a fit she threw. And my argument that Shem needed to renew his covenant with the Lord didn’t seem to convince her. She beat me to stripes with an olive switch and forbade me to play with Joshua for a month. Did I mention she was besought with demons? Overall, I think it was good for little Shem. He was the only kid I ever knew who could pee around corners. You can make a pretty good living as a beggar with that kind of talent. And he never even thanked me. Brothers. Children see magic because they look for it. When I first met Joshua, I didn’t know he was the Savior, and neither did he, for that matter. What I knew was that he wasn’t afraid. Amid a race of conquered warriors, a people who tried to find pride while cowering before God and Rome, he shone like a bloom in the desert. But maybe only I saw it, because I was looking for it. To everyone else he seemed like just another child: the same needs and the same chance to die before he was grown. When I told my mother of Joshua’s trick with the lizard she checked me for fever and sent me to my sleeping mat with only a bowl of broth for supper. â€Å"I’ve heard stories about that boy’s mother,† she said to my father. â€Å"She claims to have spoken to an angel of the Lord. She told Esther that she had borne the Son of God.† â€Å"And what did you say to Esther?† â€Å"That she should be careful that the Pharisees not hear her ravings or we’d be picking stones for her punishment.† â€Å"Then you should not speak of it again. I know her husband, he is a righteous man.† â€Å"Cursed with an insane girl for a wife.† â€Å"Poor thing,† my father said, tearing away a hunk of bread. His hands were as hard as horn, as square as hammers, and as gray as a leper’s from the limestone he worked with. An embrace from him left scratches on my back that sometimes wept blood, yet my brothers and I fought to be the first in his arms when he returned from work each evening. The same injuries inflicted in anger would have sent us crying to our mother’s skirts. I fell asleep each night feeling his hand on my back like a shield. Fathers. Do you want to mash some lizards?† I asked Joshua when I saw him again. He was drawing in the dirt with a stick, ignoring me. I put my foot on his drawing. â€Å"Did you know that your mother is mad?† â€Å"My father does that to her,† he said sadly, without looking up. I sat down next to him. â€Å"Sometimes my mother makes yipping noises in the night like the wild dogs.† â€Å"Is she mad?† Joshua asked. â€Å"She seems fine in the morning. She sings while she makes breakfast.† Joshua nodded, satisfied, I guess, that madness could pass. â€Å"We used to live in Egypt,† he said. â€Å"No, you didn’t, that’s too far. Farther than the temple, even.† The Temple in Jerusalem was the farthest place I had been as a child. Every spring my family took the five-day walk to Jerusalem for the feast of Passover. It seemed to take forever. â€Å"We lived here, then we lived in Egypt, now we live here again,† Joshua said. â€Å"It was a long way.† â€Å"You lie, it takes forty years to get to Egypt.† â€Å"Not anymore, it’s closer now.† â€Å"It says in the Torah. My abba read it to me. ‘The Israelites traveled in the desert for forty years.'† â€Å"The Israelites were lost.† â€Å"For forty years?† I laughed. â€Å"The Israelites must be stupid.† â€Å"We are the Israelites.† â€Å"We are?† â€Å"Yes.† â€Å"I have to go find my mother,† I said. â€Å"When you come back, let’s play Moses and Pharaoh.† The angel has confided in me that he is going to ask the Lord if he can become Spider-Man. He watches the television constantly, even when I sleep, and he has become obsessed with the story of the hero who fights demons from the rooftops. The angel says that evil looms larger now than it did in my time, and that calls for greater heroes. The children need heroes, he says. I think he just wants to swing from buildings in tight red jammies. What hero could touch these children anyway, with their machines and medicine and distances made invisible? (Raziel: not here a week and he would trade the Sword of God to be a web slinger.) In my time, our heroes were few, but they were real – some of us could even trace our kinship to them. Joshua always played the heroes – David, Joshua, Moses – while I played the evil ones: Pharaoh, Ahab, and Nebuchadnezzar. If I had a shekel for every time I was slain as a Philistine, well, I’d not be riding a camel through the eye of a needle anytime soon, I’ll tell you that. As I think back, I see that Joshua was practicing for what he would become. â€Å"Let my people go,† said Joshua, as Moses. â€Å"Okay.† â€Å"You can’t just say, ‘Okay.'† â€Å"I can’t?† â€Å"No, the Lord has hardened your heart against my demands.† â€Å"Why’d he do that?† â€Å"I don’t know, he just did. Now, let my people go.† â€Å"Nope.† I crossed my arms and turned away like someone whose heart is hardened. â€Å"Behold as I turn this stick into a snake. Now, let my people go!† â€Å"Okay.† â€Å"You can’t just say ‘okay’!† â€Å"Why? That was a pretty good trick with the stick.† â€Å"But that’s not how it goes.† â€Å"Okay. No way, Moses, your people have to stay.† Joshua waved his staff in my face. â€Å"Behold, I will plague you with frogs. They will fill your house and your bedchamber and get on your stuff.† â€Å"So?† â€Å"So that’s bad. Let my people go, Pharaoh.† â€Å"I sorta like frogs.† â€Å"Dead frogs,† Moses threatened. â€Å"Piles of steaming, stinking dead frogs.† â€Å"Oh, in that case, you’d better take your people and go. I have some sphinxes and stuff to build anyway.† â€Å"Dammit, Biff, that’s not how it goes! I have more plagues for you.† â€Å"I want to be Moses.† â€Å"You can’t.† â€Å"Why not?† â€Å"I have the stick.† â€Å"Oh.† And so it went. I’m not sure I took to playing the villains as easily as Joshua took to being the heroes. Sometimes we recruited our little brothers to play the more loathsome parts. Joshua’s little brothers Judah and James played whole populations, like the Sodomites outside of Lot’s door. â€Å"Send out those two angels so that we can know them.† â€Å"I won’t do that,† I said, playing Lot (a good guy only because Joshua wanted to play the angels), â€Å"but I have two daughters who don’t know anyone, you can meet them.† â€Å"Okay,† said Judah. I threw open the door and led my imaginary daughters outside so they could know the Sodomites†¦ â€Å"Pleased to meet you.† â€Å"Charmed, I’m sure.† â€Å"Nice to meet you.† â€Å"THAT’S NOT HOW IT GOES!† Joshua shouted. â€Å"You’re supposed to try to break the door down, then I will smite you blind.† â€Å"Then you destroy our city?† James said. â€Å"Yes.† â€Å"We’d rather meet Lot’s daughters.† â€Å"Let my people go,† said Judah, who was only four and often got his stories confused. He particularly liked the Exodus because he and James got to throw jars of water on me as I led my soldiers across the Red Sea after Moses. â€Å"That’s it,† Joshua said. â€Å"Judah, you’re Lot’s wife. Go stand over there.† Sometimes Judah had to play Lot’s wife no matter what story we were doing. â€Å"I don’t want to be Lot’s wife.† â€Å"Be quiet, pillars of salt can’t talk.† â€Å"I don’t want to be a girl.† Our brothers always played the female parts. I had no sisters to torment, and Joshua’s only sister at the time, Elizabeth, was still a baby. That was before we met the Magdalene. The Magdalene changed everything. After I overheard my parents talking about Joshua’s mother’s madness, I often watched her, looking for signs, but she seemed to go about her duties like all the other mothers, tending to the little ones, working in the garden, fetching water, and preparing food. There was no sign of going about on all fours or foaming at the mouth as I had expected. She was younger than many of the mothers, and much younger than her husband, Joseph, who was an old man by the standards of our time. Joshua said that Joseph wasn’t his real father, but he wouldn’t say who his father was. When the subject came up, and Mary was in earshot, she would call to Josh, then put her finger to her lips to signal silence. â€Å"Now is not the time, Joshua. Biff would not understand.† Just hearing her say my name made my heart leap. Early on I developed a little-boy love for Joshua’s mother that sent me into fantasies of marriage and family and future. â€Å"Your father is old, huh, Josh?† â€Å"Not too old.† â€Å"When he dies, will your mother marry his brother?† â€Å"My father has no brothers. Why?† â€Å"No reason. What would you think if your father was shorter than you?† â€Å"He isn’t.† â€Å"But when your father dies, your mother could marry someone shorter than you, and he would be your father. You would have to do what he says.† â€Å"My father will never die. He is eternal.† â€Å"So you say. But I think that when I’m a man, and your father dies, I will take your mother as my wife.† Joshua made a face now as if he had bitten into an unripe fig. â€Å"Don’t say that, Biff.† â€Å"I don’t mind that she’s mad. I like her blue cloak. And her smile. I’ll be a good father, I’ll teach you how to be a stonemason, and I’ll only beat you when you are a snot.† â€Å"I would rather play with lepers than listen to this.† Joshua began to walk away. â€Å"Wait. Be nice to your father, Joshua bar Biff† – my own father used my full name like this when he was trying to make a point – â€Å"Is it not the word of Moses that you must honor me?† Little Joshua spun on his heel. â€Å"My name is not Joshua bar Biff, and it is not Joshua bar Joseph either. It’s Joshua bar Jehovah!† I looked around, hoping that no one had heard him. I didn’t want my only son (I planned to sell Judah and James into slavery) to be stoned to death for uttering the name of God in vain. â€Å"Don’t say that again, Josh. I won’t marry your mother.† â€Å"No, you won’t.† â€Å"I’m sorry.† â€Å"I forgive you.† â€Å"She will make an excellent concubine.† Don’t let anyone tell you that the Prince of Peace never struck anyone. In those early days, before he had become who he would be, Joshua smote me in the nose more than once. That was the first time. Mary would stay my one true love until I saw the Magdalene. If the people of Nazareth thought Joshua’s mother was mad, there was little said of it out of respect for her husband, Joseph. He was wise in the Law, the Prophets, and the Psalms, and there were few wives in Nazareth who didn’t serve supper in one of his smooth olive-wood bowls. He was fair, strong, and wise. People said that he had once been an Essene, one of the dour, ascetic Jews who kept to themselves and never married or cut their hair, but he did not congregate with them, and unlike them, he still had the ability to smile. In those early years, I saw him very little, as he was always in Sepphoris, building structures for the Romans and the Greeks and the landed Jews of that city, but every year, as the Feast of Firsts approached, Joseph would stop his work in the fortress city and stay home carving bowls and spoons to give to the Temple. During the Feast of Firsts, it was the tradition to give first lambs, first grain, and first fruits to the priests of the Temple. Even first sons born during the year were dedicated to the Temple, either by promising them for labor when they were older, or by a gift of money. Craftsmen like my father and Joseph could give things that they made, and in some years my father fashioned mortars and pestles or grinding stones for the tribute, while in others he gave tithes of coin. Some people made the pilgrimage to Jerusalem for this feast, but since it fell only seven weeks after Passover, many families could not afford to make the pilgrimage, and the gifts went to our sim ple village synagogue. During the weeks leading up to the feast, Joseph sat outside of his house in the shade of an awning he had made, worrying the gnarled olive wood with adze and chisel, while Joshua and I played at his feet. He wore the single-piece tunic that we all wore, a rectangle of fabric with neck hole in the middle, belted with a sash so that the sleeves fell to the elbows and the hem fell to the knees. â€Å"Perhaps this year I should give the Temple my first son, eh, Joshua? Wouldn’t you like to clean the altar after the sacrifices?† He grinned to himself without looking up from his work. â€Å"I owe them a first son, you know. We were in Egypt at the Firsts Feast when you were born.† The idea of coming in contact with blood clearly terrified Joshua, as it would any Jewish boy. â€Å"Give them James, Abba, he is your first son.† Joseph shot a glance my way, to see if I had reacted. I had, but it was because I was considering my own status as a first son, hoping that my father wasn’t thinking along the same lines. â€Å"James is a second son. The priests don’t want second sons. It will have to be you.† Joshua looked at me before he answered, then back at his father. Then he smiled. â€Å"But Abba, if you should die, who will take care of Mother if I am at the Temple?† â€Å"Someone will look after her,† I said. â€Å"I’m sure of it.† â€Å"I will not die for a long time.† Joseph tugged at his gray beard. â€Å"My beard goes white, but there’s a lot of life in me yet.† â€Å"Don’t be so sure, Abba,† Joshua said. Joseph dropped the bowl he was working on and stared into his hands. â€Å"Run along and play, you two,† he said, his voice little more than a whisper. Joshua stood and walked away. I wanted to throw my arms around the old man, for I had never seen a grown man afraid before and it frightened me too. â€Å"Can I help?† I said, pointing to the half-finished bowl that lay in Joseph’s lap. â€Å"You go with Joshua. He needs a friend to teach him to be human. Then I can teach him to be a man.† How to cite Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal Chapter 1, Essay examples

Short Story Analysis Essay Example For Students

Short Story Analysis Essay the names of those involved have been changed to protect the innocent March 1, 2001 5:39 p.m. Nerves, nerves, nerveshow can one letter enclosed inside of an envelope determine so much? Michael Livingston had plenty to lose. Try four years of undergraduate school at Morehouse University, two years of Notre Dame graduate school, and Harvard Law. Yes he had plenty to lose. Walking into the door of his closed-space apartment, he sits down with the letter in plain view. Thump, Thump, Thump! His heart races like greyhounds at a race track. The time is here. The time is now. Michael opens the letter to find his results of the BAR exam he had takenDear Mr. Livingston, It gives us great pleasure to inform you that you are in the ninetieth percentile upon completion of the Virginia State BAR Examination. Congratulations on your success. Experiencing a seventh heaven elation, Michael throws the life-saving letter up in the air, and yells to the top of his lungs. He sits down on the couch with a sudden thrust as if he were lightheaded. He picks up the letter agai n and reads it a few more times before disregarding it for the last time. As he catches his breath, the tight brown belt from his khaki trousers digs into his stomach making for an even more uncomfortable pose. Pulling his white Geoffrey Beane button-up shirt out of his trousers, Michael then gets up and walks into his room as if he were in a drunken stoop. The excitement he was experiencing tired him more than the 9 to 5 internship at the courthouse. While his heavy head sunk into the pillow, Mike hears a mysterious knock at his apartment door. Who in the hell? he says emphatically. Mumbling words that would turn his mother in her grave, Michael looks out the peep hole he normally uses to look a Cynthias ass.(Cynthia is the 24 year old film student that lives in front of Michael.) He then notices three gentlemen; all dressed in fine tailored suites with matching hats and coughing handkerchiefs. Michael shouts, Who is it and what do you want? Mr. Livingston, one gentleman replies. W e are representatives from Sampson, Heath, Jacks, and associates. May we have a word with you Sir? Michael tells the gentlemen to hold for a moment while he puts on a shirt. He comes back and opens the creaking door. Good evening fellows, what can I do for you? he asks. Well Mr. Livingston, we would like to discuss a matter that we feel would be very beneficial to you, one gentleman explains. We recruit young, smart men who are fresh out of law school, and we want you. Michael stares off into the distance as if he sees something on the wall. Weve been notified of your outstanding examination scores, and were willing to offer you a deal you cant refuse. Returning back to the world, Michael looks at the gentlemen with a stern, unyielding glare and says, Excuse me for asking, but how do you know about my scores being that I just received them today? We know all, one gentleman says boldly. We want to offer you a position in our firm with a set salary of $360,000.00 a year, along with fu ll benefits, and other perks. Well consider you a friend of the firm, he said jokingly. Youll be your own boss. You control how far you progress in the firm Michael. Give it some more thought; heres our card. Stop by the office so we can iron out the details. Michael, stiff and in awe, shakes the gentlemens hands, and sees them to the door. How about I meet with you all tomorrow at 10 a.m.? Michael says. The gentleman looks at him and with a sharp smirk, touches the brim of his hat and walks away with the other two. We will write a custom essay on Short Story Analysis specifically for you for only $16.38 $13.9/page Order now 11:11 p.m. Dazed and hypnotized by the dripping faucet, Michael lies awake in his full-sized bed starring into nothing. Continuous contemplation happens beyond his control. He finds it extremely bizarre that three men who hes never seen before in his life would show up on his doorstep and offer him a job. There has to be a catch, he thought. Given his current financial situation, and his educational debt, $360.00.00 sounds very appealing. But, there has to be a catch Im gonna go check it out for the hell of it; and they way things are right now, I just may take it, he pondered. Tossing, Turning, Tossing, Turningthe bed offered him no comfort throughout the night as he lay restless on the cold, wet sheets. 3 a.m., 5:24 a.m., 8:46 a.m. The time crept by with each sleepless moment for Michael. He suddenly became conscious as the sun grazed his eyes and warmed his body. It was time for him to awaken to a new day; a new career perhaps; in what? He did not know. He got dressed as soon as he could, and ran out the door as only a rookie lawyer could. The card that he had received from the gentlemen gave precise directions to the building. It was a very new building; something that looked like a glass monument just for him. Just as Michael walked up to the door, an extremely hefty man met him almost simultaneously. Michael was nearly startled by the heavily built stature of the man, but he then realized that the man had to accompany him to the office. Admiring all of the paintings on the wall on the way to the office, Michael nearly collides with the hefty gentleman. Once he gets to the door, the hefty fellow leaves his presence and returns to his outside post. Here I am, he says to himself. He slowly pushes the door open, and to his surprise he finds .u282f67d36a32ed2c7d3e8c013f4fe3c6 , .u282f67d36a32ed2c7d3e8c013f4fe3c6 .postImageUrl , .u282f67d36a32ed2c7d3e8c013f4fe3c6 .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .u282f67d36a32ed2c7d3e8c013f4fe3c6 , .u282f67d36a32ed2c7d3e8c013f4fe3c6:hover , .u282f67d36a32ed2c7d3e8c013f4fe3c6:visited , .u282f67d36a32ed2c7d3e8c013f4fe3c6:active { border:0!important; } .u282f67d36a32ed2c7d3e8c013f4fe3c6 .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .u282f67d36a32ed2c7d3e8c013f4fe3c6 { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .u282f67d36a32ed2c7d3e8c013f4fe3c6:active , .u282f67d36a32ed2c7d3e8c013f4fe3c6:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .u282f67d36a32ed2c7d3e8c013f4fe3c6 .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .u282f67d36a32ed2c7d3e8c013f4fe3c6 .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .u282f67d36a32ed2c7d3e8c013f4fe3c6 .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .u282f67d36a32ed2c7d3e8c013f4fe3c6 .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .u282f67d36a32ed2c7d3e8c013f4fe3c6:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .u282f67d36a32ed2c7d3e8c013f4fe3c6 .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .u282f67d36a32ed2c7d3e8c013f4fe3c6 .u282f67d36a32ed2c7d3e8c013f4fe3c6-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .u282f67d36a32ed2c7d3e8c013f4fe3c6:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: Adoption and identity formation Essay10:01 a.m. A room full of middle-aged white men sitting at a round table. All had on similar suits; mostly black and blue. Michael noticed the gentlemen that stopped by his apartment were in attendance also. Mr. Sampson, one of the founders of the firm, (who also looked like a watered-down version of Stanley Kubrick) stood up and asked Michael to have a seat. Mr. Livingston, you do know why youre here dont you? he asked. Michael silently nodded. A few of my colleagues met with you yesterday to discuss future employment here at S.H.J. A correct? Michael locked eyes on him and gave a simple yes. We trust that youve made a decision regar ding this, and we would like to hear it. Michael stood as if someone had trodden his legs and watered is palms. He cleared his throat and said, Gentlemen, I have reviewed your generous offer, and unfortunately I have decided to decline it. I feel a bit uneasy about doing a job that I have yet to gain information about. Mr. Jacks, another firm founder, looks at Michael with a vengeful, tactless vogue and says, Mr. Livingston, you dont have much of a choice! Michael knew at that point he had made the biggest mistake of his life. He looked at the blank faces on all of the lawyers and rapidly came to the conclusion that everyone of them was in on it. Mr. Sampson walked towards Michael and escorted him to a seat next to the round table. Now that you are employed here Mr. Livingston, its time for us to tell you about your first case, and who you will be defending. Ice water ran through Michaels veins as he looked at the men with a vacant face. I would like for you to direct your attention towards the screen, Sampson said. Here you see Anderson Heatha very good man who is not only a founder of this firm; hes also a victim of a system he so aptly tried to uphold. Now Michael, for your first case as a defense attorney, you will be defending Mr. Heath on charges of first degree murder. He is accused of murdering this woman 1:18 p.m. Michael looks to the screen and without hesitation, begins to cry. The infamous woman is none other than his mother Bernadette. A shrieking NO! escapes from his voice, and his body language follows closely behind. First, he turns to look at the door as if he wants to run, but it seems extremely distant to him. He turns back around to see Mr. Sampson while a million thoughts overrun his mind. Mr. Livingston, Sampson says. This is what you will do. You will accept this case in which you will be defending Mr. Heath. You will argue that he did not murder this woman, and furthermore, you will not reveal to the jury that this woman is indeed your mother. Have I made myself clear Mr. Livingston? Sampson says. Before Michael had the opportunity to stress any syllables, Mr. Sampson adds, If at any time you decide to go the other way on this case, cinderblocks will be placed on your feet, and you will die a slow agonizing death in the Chesapeake Bay once again, do you understand these terms that have been presented to you Mr. Livingston? Michael could hear his heart pounding in his chest. He answers yes in a pitiful, weary tone. He then gets up and makes his way to the door. Just before his hand embraces the door knob, Sampson says, Remember, youre being watcheddont lose. Michael exits the door, and soon after, the building in a heaping, crying mess. March 4, 2001 8:36 a.m. Ive been lying around for the past couple of days: not eating, not sleeping, not anything. My world has turned upside down, and I dont know what I am going to do. Those bastards murdered my mother, and now they have me painted into a corner with no way out- I cant deal with this. I drink this vodka with no remorse, not caring for anything or anyone. Maybe I should go to the policehell, they wont do anything. What do I do? I cant just sit here and do nothing. Michael, I tell myself. Put the vodka down. So I do. I must come up with a way to get those assholes for what they did. I look up to the sky and say Momma, they wont get away with thisI promise.- Michael LivingstonMichael gets himself out of bed, and wipes the dried tears from his face. He puts on his sweatshirt with the maroon H on the front, along with some old Nike sweatpants. After getting himself together emotionally, he jumps into his car and takes a ride to his mothers old house. Twenty minutes later, he arrives at the old house only to see windows boarded up and the old Pacer his mother used to drive. He sits in the car wanting to cry, but he realizes that this was something he had to do in order to make the firm pay for what they did. He walks up to the door with a stoned face and heavy heart. AS he enters the house, memories instantly begin to raid his mind. My old room, he thought. He stood in the door frame with the sun warming his back reminiscing over old timeshis mother cooking by the stove, he and his friends running in and out of the old, metal screen door, the jar full of lightning bugs he used to catch. Yes, it all came back to him. Clearing his mind, he begins to look around the house for anything suspicious or unordinary. He goes through all of his mothers old documents, prescriptions, and Sunday school notes nothing. As he begins to give up, he looks on the floor near a corner and notices a video tape that had no reason for being there. He goes over, picks it up, and places it inside of the old GE VCR. As soon as he presses the play button, all of the air leaves his body as if someone had gut-punched him. He watches the tape in complete astonishment. He quickly grabs the VCR system and tape, runs to his car, and rapidly peels off. 10:22 p.m. Michael knew the information on the tape would be exactly what he needed to put those murderers away for along time. He paced back and forth all night attempting to find a way to meet with Judge Emerson in her chambers without the firm knowing. Thinking, Thinking, Thinking Finally, he did it! He decided to call Judge Emerson at her residence to explain the situation in which he needed her help. Mr. Livingston, I will do everything I can to assure your safety at the trial tomorrow. However, I cannot help you knowingly, but off the record, if you are able to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that these men murdered your mother, they will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Thank you Judge, Michael replied before hanging up the phone. Preparing for the trial tomorrow, Michael stays up making sure everything is set and in order. He worked every angle for what he was trying to do. His plan is to defend Mr. Heath throughout the trial, and when it came time for the closing argument, he would show the jury the tape, and explain to them that Mr. Heath murdered his mother, and that the firm he was an accessory to the murder. I am ready. I need this. Be smart Michael, I tell myself. I work for the very people who took my mothers life; not by choice, not by choice. If I dont do this, I die so what do I have to lose? Mom, I hope youre proud of me. I will seek justice for you. I promise. Michael LivingstonMarch 5, 2001 Day of Trial- Michael wore his best suit for what would be a fascinating trial. Just before it was time to go into the courtroom, Michael sees Sampson standing in a corner along side two other men from the firm. Mr. Sampson had been looking at Michael for quite some time, and when he caught his eyes he said silently, Dont lose, and gave him the gunshot-to-the-head hand motion. Michael, unfazed and resilient, walks into the courtroom and takes a seat beside Mr. Heath. Heath looks at him, gives him a smirk and says, This will be easier than I thought. Michael looks at him and with the same smirk and says You have no idea. All rise for the Honorable Judge Emerson, the bailiff says. Michael stands up and soon after, begins his rebuttal. Michael seems to be putting up a good defense argument for Heath while Sampson looks on in approval. Everything sees to be going well for Mr. Heath, or thats what it appears to be. Now its time for the closing argument. Michael hurriedly gets up and takes his place next to the jury. .u1a73d9f2bf48497df23da3b565f97950 , .u1a73d9f2bf48497df23da3b565f97950 .postImageUrl , .u1a73d9f2bf48497df23da3b565f97950 .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .u1a73d9f2bf48497df23da3b565f97950 , .u1a73d9f2bf48497df23da3b565f97950:hover , .u1a73d9f2bf48497df23da3b565f97950:visited , .u1a73d9f2bf48497df23da3b565f97950:active { border:0!important; } .u1a73d9f2bf48497df23da3b565f97950 .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .u1a73d9f2bf48497df23da3b565f97950 { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .u1a73d9f2bf48497df23da3b565f97950:active , .u1a73d9f2bf48497df23da3b565f97950:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .u1a73d9f2bf48497df23da3b565f97950 .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .u1a73d9f2bf48497df23da3b565f97950 .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .u1a73d9f2bf48497df23da3b565f97950 .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .u1a73d9f2bf48497df23da3b565f97950 .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .u1a73d9f2bf48497df23da3b565f97950:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .u1a73d9f2bf48497df23da3b565f97950 .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .u1a73d9f2bf48497df23da3b565f97950 .u1a73d9f2bf48497df23da3b565f97950-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .u1a73d9f2bf48497df23da3b565f97950:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: Billy Budd: Was Captain Vere Right? EssayGood evening everyone. I come to you today in a dilemma of character and of courage. You have been lied to today. Yes lied to. You have been deceived beyond words and I want to clear up this horrible misconception. I am guilty of defending a murderer, yes a murderer. This man, along with other members of S.H.J. A is guilty of killing the most important woman in my life, Bernadette Livingston. Ms. Livingston was my mother and these men selfishly decided to end her life because of her refusal to pay lawyer fees for a trial she never had a part in. The fees amounted over millions of dollars. I was blackmailed into taking the job and t he case. My life was threatened by the gentleman you see in the back, Mr. Sampson. The whole firm is corrupt, and it would be completely unjust if these men were to go free. Please. Do the right thing. Thank you. I also have a videotape I would like for the jury to examine. Michael LivingstonThe courtroom was completely shocked and appalled. Everyone turned and looked at the gentlemen who represented the firm before watching the tape. The bailiff played the videotape, and on it Mr. Heath verbally admitted killing Bernadette Livingston, and everyone from the firm was in the tape. The men were full of alcohol when the tape was shot so confessions came easily. That was all the jury needed before deliberations started. Michael felt he would win. He knew he would win. The jury came back out with the decision We the jury finds the defendant Anderson Heath guilty of the crime of murder. We the jury also finds Sampson, Heath, Jacks, and Associates guilty of conspiracy to murder. The judge sentenced Mr. Heath to life in prison, and the rest of the firm twenty-five years each. Michael, smiling and joyful, goes over to a handcuffed Sampson and says I didnt lose. He continued his career as a prominent lawyer in Washington D.C.