Breathless ...( Part 2)

 

The Holy Meal at Emmaus, as dramatically interpreted by Caravaggio. If Herr Doktor is correct, the transcriptionist of this extraordinary event -- Dr. Luke, alone -- is also raising 'is 'ANDS!
 

In Part One of this discussion, I suggested that the stylistic use of the conjunction "AND," by the blessed Evangels, might serve to conveniently communicate an intensified state of excitement or anxiety.  For example, "AND's" are very prominent in the Authorized English Translation of Mark's Gospel. the shortest of the four Gospels.  This is in keeping, perhaps, with the circumstances of its composition.  Tradition holds that it was dictated to St. Mark by St. Peter.  St. Peter is portrayed by all accounts as frequently impulsive in his extroverted leading role amongst his fellow compatriots, and living life through his emotions in a truly moved, hurly-burly, and quite open fashion.  Through the literary resort to a high incidence of AND's, this "Petrine personality" bleeds through the Gospel pages.  The Gospel is dignified and salutary, yet possesses a vaguely "rushed" and condensed quality.  It is a "breathlessly" conveyed narrative, its sentences tumbling over one another and skipping about like lambs, although not incoherently so.  Could its earthly instrument be facing an imminent demise of some sort?  Conceivably, I think, but the chosen instrument also wishes to stubbornly pronounce all the main facts about Christ's life to his amanuensis; to get it done as completely as possible, come what may ... be the end fire, saw, suffocation, or sword ...  or cross. 

 

As noted previously, "AND's" also are prominent in Luke's highly literate text, if comparatively less so than in Mark's.   Luke's mastery of the Greek language, in terms of variety and complexity, exceeds that of the other three Gospel evangelists, consistent with the presumed idiosyncracies and status of its author.

 

In the description of the Emmaus "incident" ... unique to Luke ... the use of "AND's" increases beyond what is normally encountered in the whole of the "beloved physician's" account.  The Emmaus history, involving a journey from Jerusalem to Emmaus and thence back to Jerusalem (in a rush), encompasses 23 Scriptural verses (Lk 24:13-35; AV); in these, some 22 "AND's" are located.   Most interestingly, the frequency of  Luke's "AND's" increases  (if slightly) in the mouth(s) of the two travelers.  Their description of the events and aftermath of Jesus' crucifixion ... unwittingly reported to the risen Master Himself ... spans six passages (Lk 24: 19-24).  No fewer than six "AND's" grace these verses.  Recall that chapter 24, in its entirety, consists of 49 verses, harboring 43 "AND's."

It would seem, from his literary devices, that Luke is quite taken with and personally touched by the Emmaus episode (which memorably serves to make Jesus known to His disciples "through the breaking of bread," in v. 35) ... but certainly no more moved than those who actually participated in the encounter, in their flesh and with their senses, i.e., Cleopas and his unnamed companion (could it have been Luke, himself?).  The "AND's," I say, are a natural and uncontainable expression, of the joy and peace which is associated with seeing God's salvation.

 

Peter's Denial, by C.H. Bloch (Denmark)

 

"AND's" are notably conspicuous in the descriptions of Peter's Denial, which is recounted in all four Gospels.  This event is certainly imbued with suspenseful and affective power, a stirring story of a great but very human man's boasts of his unwavering fidelity, his subsequent crushing fall, and his grieving repentance.  Obviously it gripped and had special meaning for the early Church ... subject as it was to intense persecutory and dogmatic challenges from without and within.  One might well expect Peter's pulse to have leapt no little amount, too, as he recounted the heart-wrenching story to Mark ... perhaps more so, than any other individual relating the Passion story in all its remembered (and inspired) details.  This is born out with examination of the Scriptures, and with the speculative assumption that the frequency of "AND's" may truly speak on behalf of, as Poe might put it, a "tell-tale heart :"

 

St. Matthew's account (Mt 26:58, 69-75) ... 8 verses, 6 "AND's"  

St. Mark's account (Mk 14:66-72) ... 7 verses, 11 "AND's" 

St. Luke's account (Lk 22:54-62) ... 9 verses, 11 "AND's"

St. John's account (Jn 18:15-18, 25-27) ... 7 verses, 4 "AND's"

 

The difference between Luke's and Mark's respective frequencies may ... very speculatively, mind you ... reflect the difference between a skilled physician's empathic response to a remorseful and nerve-wracking crisis to which he has been allowed to share, vicariously; and that of a hardy and forthright fellow who's actually lived through that ego-shattering experience.   Who's to say?

 

There are no great theological truths to be distilled from this completed little exercise, to be sure.  None. But perhaps it will help to emphasize that the Lord's evangelists are no mere plaster-cast saints, but were and are living men of body, mind and yes, soul ... men who gave their all for Christ. 





Breathless ... (Part 1)

St. Peter Dictating the Gospel to St. Mark.  Part of the Ivories of the So-Called Grado Chair,
c. 440-670 A+D.  Collection of the Albert and Victoria Museum, London
  

A state of mood is often betrayed less by the words expressed, than the manner in which such symbols are communicated.  Sometimes otherwise quiescent body parts speak more eloquently than the tongue, lips and vocal cords, as to the mind's shipwreck.  The facial blush, the bouncing legs, the averted glance, the wringing hands, the furrowed brow, the clenched fists, the hunched posture ... all these have a story to relate.  The tell-tale and tell-all body, when suffering, is not easily put off or cloaked by its spoken assurances of "normalcy."

This is not to say that speech cannot reveal, or betray, the psyche through its own nimble mannerisms.  St. Peter once resorted to violently unseemly protestations, in a chilly Judean courtyard at springtime, presumably so as to better emphasize a much-prized point of personal "innocence."  More likely, the audience to such effort concluded from its fervor, that Peter's accusatory little maiden was zeroing in on a sore spot, with deadly accuracy.

But it's true.  Folks under stress, or under threat, or who are reliving highly invested and meaningful moments of their lives, tend to speak more loudly, more rapidly and in a noticeably more "pressured" kind of cadence.  It's difficult for the listener to get a word in edgewise.  Remember those sentence diagrams from grammar school, long ago?  Yes, all right, all right -- I agree that they bore an uncanny resemblance to the primitive predecessor to Pat Sajak and Vanna White's syndicated spinner-game (i.e., "hangman") -- but that's really not the point here, dear reader.  On the occasions under discussion, we assert that sentence structure often becomes increasingly interminable and clumsy yet tightly linked, like conjunctively colliding express trains.

Can such a pattern be seen in the inspired Gospels, perhaps reflecting the personality quirks and individual circumstances of those holy men who were the instruments by which the Holy Ghost brought us to our Savior?  I believe a compelling argument can be made that such pattern exists.

Consider St. Peter, as portrayed to his very core, in Scripture.  This fellow is a bundle of impetuously extroverted energy, a chap who wears his emotions quite on his sleeves.

One moment he's stepping over a boat's gunwales to walk towards Christ (during a wild tempest, no less), another moment he's throwing himself over the a boat to boldly swim towards a risen Christ ... and then, soon enough,  he's having a shattering crisis of confidence, when Christ the Victor asks him if he loves his Lord (true enough, it was repetitiously asked three times, which could be unsettling for anyone).  So one moment Peter intensely avers that this love exists; and the very next, when provided with intimations of an upcoming crucifixion with his name fastened on it, he frets that a colleague of  his will get off easy.  One moment Peter declares Christ to be the Son of God, the expected Messiah; the next, he is interrupting the Messiah to inform Him that the eternal plan of salvation is hare-brained.   One moment Peter tells Jesus to forego washing his feet, because it scandalizes him; but seconds upon being informed that the one rejecting the Messiah, as Servant, has no part of His Body, Peter demands something of a carwash for his.  Shortly thereafter, Peter loses his head, so as to cut off another's ear and ...

Pay attention now.  And Peter turns tail and runs off.   And he discovers remnant backbone surviving.  And having done so, he slinks back to the high-priest's courtyard.  And he is thence faced down by a servant girl's challenge.  And others challenge him too. And Peter denies any acquaintance with the Man being tried; and a cock crows repeatedly at his blustering.  And Peter encounters the eyes of his Master.  And he remembers his earlier boasts.  And he is staggered.  And he goes out and weeps.  And Peter does so bitterly.

The Church Fathers are fairly unanimous in vouching that St. Peter dictated the contents of Mark's Gospel to the younger man who eventually, sources say, became bishop of Alexandria and a martyr for Christ.  Perhaps the once boastful Peter felt unworthy to have his name closely attached to an account of the Lord's life, just as he felt unworthy at death's door to assume the posture of His "lifted-up" God.   Poignantly, no doubt,  Mark himself could closely empathize with several of Peter's recollections.  He may have himself run away from Jesus at Gethsemane, for instance.  Certainly, we know that he ran away from Ss. Paul and Barnabus, during the course of some missionary rigors.   But by the grace of God, he eventually became a very valued companion of both the blessed and martyrs-to-be Peter and Paul, near the time of their deaths.  In any event, perhaps the emotional Peter, under the death-sentence of the psychopathic Nero, was mightily pressed for time as he told his account to Mark and sought to get the saving Word out.  This is of course speculative.

But we note this.  The Gospel of St. Mark is comparatively short, punchy, and possesses a breathless quality, one of racing excitement and a rugged, "let's-get-down-to-business" wonder which is distinctly and quantitatively different from the scholarly and detailed approach of Luke, and the rapturously transcendent, contemplative theology of John.

Consider, as evidence, the heart-rending and exceedingly joyous Passion and Resurrection accounts belonging to the respective Gospels, as found in the English-language New Authorized Version (Deuel Enterprises, Inc.,  Gary SD, copyright 1998).  In my reckoning, the accounts begin with the departure from the Upper Room and continue through the first Resurrection Sunday.   Some verses have more than one sentence.

St. Matthew's narrative (chap. 26:36 to 28:15) contains 121 verses.  An "AND" begins a sentence (or an independent clause) on 66 occasions.

St. Luke's narrative (chap. 22:39 to 24:49) contains138 verses.   An "AND" begins a sentence (or an independent clause) on 118 occasions.   The doctor's use of "ANDS" accelerates significantly, as he narrates the Emmaus encounter with the Risen (and communing) Lord Jesus.  In Luke 24:19-24, there are 6 verses, and no less than 6 conspicuous "ANDS" flower them.  Excitement (and burning hearts) abound. 

St. John's narrative (chap. 18 through 20, inclusive) contains 112 verses.  St. John is writing many years after the events he relates to us.  Although he personally experiences the wrenching turmoil associated with exile, he is believed to have died a "natural" death.   An "AND" begins a sentence (or an independent clause) on 40 occasions.  The use is more, shall we say, measured and stately in John's text, if still prominent in display nonetheless.

And in the narrative usually ascribed to Mark?  His topical account, to my estimation, ranges from chap. 14:27 to 16:13.   There are 106 verses, shorter than that of any of the three other Evangelists, in absolute terms, to be sure ... but a provocatively good number indeed, given the overall relative bulk of his Gospel.  In those 106 verses, no less than 99 qualifying "ANDS" are encountered.  That's a bunch.

This situation has a dictating, inspired St. Peter all over it, from the vantage point of circumstances, temperament, and that opinionated information obtained and studiously sifted by the early Church.

Next (Deo volente) in Breathless ... (Part 2):   A closer look at the Gospels' description of Peter's Denial lends further support to the hypothesis.

         

Open Wide ... (Part 3)

Our Lord's Hands Heal Blindness of All Kinds

In this latest post, a clinical case study first discussed in Dr. Meehl's CPH publication [1] is revisited.  A few comments by this writer are herewith appended; these are in close sympathy with Dr. Mowrer's own earlier estimations [2].

"A young woman confessed that she had broken the Seventh Commandment by pilfering ribbons and socks from a dime store.  She was obviously contrite about the transgression, and the pastor assured her of God's understanding and gracious forgiveness.  In a few weeks she was back in the study to confess that she had stolen again, this time a few cents from her mother's purse.  Again absolution was pronounced.  When, not too many days after this, the girl again came to tears, the pastor began looking more deeply.  Professional help was called in to assist the girl.  Serious deficiencies in her home life were uncovered.   It became apparent that she had unexpressed misgivings whether God had actually forgiven her after her previous confessions.   While she had repented of the sin that she knew, she recognized her inability to straighten herself out; this created internal doubts about her confession.  As these feelings were brought out and she began to understand them, the urge to steal waned -- and the absolution was accepted and believed." [1]

 Observations:

1.  The commentary "Professional help was called in to assist the girl" is particularly telling, as to the existing disheveled state of clerical authority (and confidence) these days ... although that blip about a "dime store," admittedly points to a long-standing chronicity.  Mowrer dryly remarks that if the hypothesis that "moral issues are nuclear to every neurosis" is valid (and he thinks it is), then the real professionals in such matters are, most assuredly, the ordained clergy; and that the general flow of mental health referrals should be more in the direction of secular clinician to the pastor, than in the reverse [2].

2.  A major discovery in the therapy, it seems to me, is the girl's strong conviction of a personal helplessness in arriving at a solution to her personal failings.  That belief is presented, in the case study, as less something formally catechized into her (although that likely happened, but was at best superficially grasped), than a subliminally stabbing "awareness" of a damning concupiscence.   Of note here: Dr. Mowrer, although having a short flirtation with Presbyterianism at one point in his life, was never able to accept the reality of original sin, which he reasoned to be a threat to a full assumption of personal responsibility for misdeeds.   One could speculate that its rejection may have contributed to the ultimate and tragic unhappiness of Dr. Mowrer, himself, in significant part.

3.   This case is exceptional in that, generally speaking, most secular psychotherapy will readily accept that benefits are derivative from following  the Davidic plea "Cleanse Thou me from secret faults" (Ps 19:12) ... but with certain reservations.  It will be treated as a poetical truism, since the unconscious is not hotly disputed, given recent findings in experimental neuroscience.  Secrets indeed there are, most will agree.  However, the capitalization of the "T" will be pooh-poohed; and the existence of "faults" will be summarily dismissed.  Thence, to be substituted for with the "ego defenses," things not necessarily evil in themselves, but rather stuff to be burnished and scrubbed up a bit so as to help the "client" move along.

If this all sounds suspiciously like "car wash psychology" to you, dear reader, then you aren't far from the human-centered kingdom of Carl Rogers.  Which is not that distant from King Friday's tuneful trolley, derived from the cardigan-bedecked Mr. Fred Rogers' brain.    "Oh, it's a wonderful day in the neighborhood, a wonderful day in the neighborhood ... won't you be my analysand?"

Maybe I don't have that quite right.

Sure sounds catchy, though.  Frankly, I (and my wallet) wish I had thought of this, years ago.  But I digress.

4.  Although penance is certainly not overly-emphasized in Lutheran theology and practice (because of a strong reaction to certain medieval abuses and exaggerated cheapenings, some of which continue to this day by the church of Rome), perhaps one might justifiably wonder whether the outcome of the case study could have been hastened through means of appropriate restitution.  "Make dish-washing plans to restore Mom's coppers," or "Sweep the floors of the dime-store dutifully, for a month" ... these things could have provided a measure of healing to the mind and soul.  And they are not foreign to the Christian conscience, in the least:  witness the cheery and Lord-blessed recompensatory act of Zaccheus (Lk 19).

Not so curious, perhaps, is the fact that the name of the great little man means "pure, i.e., he was made just in the presence of God," according to Cruden's Complete Concordance, copyright 1968, p. 803.  And so are we all, very literally, in participating in the rite of Absolution.

Citations:

1.  PE Meehl et al. (1958)   What Then Is Man?, Concordia Publishing House (St. Louis MO), p. 284
2.  OH Mowrer (1961)  The Crisis in Psychiatry and Religion, D. Van Nostrand Co. (Princeton NJ), p. 197

Next (D.V.):   Dr. Anton Boisen shares an illuminating case from his files.

Mysteries of G-D ... (Part 1)

The four-lettered word anciently referencing God, and employing the Aramaic-Hebrew alphabet or ketab merubba ("square script"), is reproduced above.   In Roman-based text, it transliterates to YHWH, with the understanding that the "square script" rendition is in practice read from right to left.  The pious Greek-speaking Jews referred to the YHWH as the tetragrammeton.  Using the alphabetic letters of the Aramaic-Hebrew as guide, its "left-to-right" sequence is "yod-het-waw-het."

A most interesting curiosity of the tetragrammeton, is that if its "square script" characters are made to assume an upright, or vertical, stance ... with the "yod" superior, and so forth ... then the resulting representation takes on a distinct appearance of the human form.  The "yod" appears as a "head," the "het" resembles the clavicle and upper extremities of the brachial girdle, the "waw" mimics the vertebral column, and the repeated "het" calls to mind the apparatus of the pelvic girdle, to include the pelvic bones and the legs.

This icon constructed from ancient letters thus testifies to the fact that when God chose to take on human flesh to redeem His world, He was lifted up on the cross to destroy and crush sin, death and the devil ... by becoming a worm, indeed becoming our Sin;  much as Moses' brazen serpent was raised and used by God to rescue His faithful Israelites from the deathly bites/stings of fiery serpents.

In its own way, the tetragrammeton is a Corpus.  The orthodox Lutheran, true to his and her Confessions, rightly reveres, displays and preaches the crucifix.

Next (Deo volente, Part 2):  How the Name YHWH testifies to the Triune Truth, according to Pastor Richard Wurmbrand (1983), a Jewish Lutheran

Open Wide ... (Part 2)

An introductory petition:  Dear Father, have mercy on us.  Being desirous to enter your kingdom of heaven, as was your  blessed servant Martin Chemnitz, help us to know and be firmly persuaded that the approach and entrance is not given except through the keys identified by your most excellent and gracious Son [1,2].  And that if we come to notice that something is lacking in our repentance, faith, new obedience, and so forth, then help us to remember that the Holy Ghost earnestly wants to supply and increase what is lacking in such by this means and instrument [2].  We ask this through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Ghost, One God, now and forever.  Amen!

Dr. Paul E. Meehl (1920-2003) was a Regents Professor of Psychology at the University of Minnesota.  He is known, importantly, for outstanding contributions in the field of clinical psychometrics and the development of the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI), especially its k-subscale (which factor succeeds in catching the fibbers without their [k]lothes on, so to speak).  In 1973 he penned a book which contains the delightful Why I Do Not Attend Clinical Case Conferences.  The piece eventually came to nudge a very green Herr Doktor along the path of (unworthily) enlightened curmudgeonry.

And if there are any Department Chairs lurking within our audience, who might be outraged by the use of the term "delightful" ... well, let me just say that many a time there was, laddies, when I wanted the pager to propitiously sound off, as much as I did the presenter to shut up.

There.  I said it publicly, as a "general" confession.  Harrumph.

To proceed, then.  Dr. Meehl has mused:

"One of the facets of confession which is often viewed superficially in pastoral practice, or even ignored, is the detailed or specific confession of actual sins.  Many of the Lutheran clergy do not minister to the needs of their parishioners adequately because they are content when their people participate in general confessions instead of insisting upon the health-giving function of specific confessions, as the Lutheran catechism and standard works in Lutheran pastoral theology recommend.  The result has been that the act of confession has become secularized.  Educated people especially seem more often to feel that their needs are better met by psychoanalysis than the Word of God.  Our pastors ought to re-examine both the healing power of the Gospel and the apparent self-sufficiency of their parishioners.

If the non-Christian psychotherapeutic effort has become vastly greater in our society and has enormous recognition among our own people, it is in part the consequence of superficial pastoral care.  Though it must not become exaggerated, so that it confers upon the pastor the role of grand inquisitor, there is nonetheless such a thing as penitential discipline to which all Christians ought regularly to submit.   Self-knowledge really exists only to the extent that one does, or is able to, communicate it in speech to another person.  The psychotherapeutic value of making specific, or even detailed, confessions is therefore very great." -- In:  P.E. Meehl (ed.)  What Then, is Man? A Symposium of  Theology, Psychology and Psychiatry, Concordia Publishing House (St. Louis, MO), pp. 68-69, 1958

Comment:  It is necessary, I think, to be clear about all this.  The Rite of Absolution in the Lutheran Church, first and foremost, is a true Sacrament which employs material stuff (i.e., a properly called and ordained man, made of dust and equipped with vocal cords) to shower the Word of God upon a poor, miserable penitent for the forgiveness of sins.   In so doing, the man of God acts "merely" in and by the stead of his Lord Jesus Christ, who as usual, deigns to be Present at the Lutheran ceremony properly followed.  The pictorial illustration which introduces this commentary is a superb and stunning summary of a divine sacramental reality, therefore.

But can "psychotherapeutic value" be derived ... as, say,  a secondary fruit ... from a faithful following of the Rite?

Answer:  very possibly.

Dr. Orval Hobart Mowrer (1907-1982) was a clinical and experimental behaviorist who headed the American Psychological Association (APA) in 1954. While recognizing a heredo-biological contribution, he maintained that much of mental illness (including depression, anxiety and even schizophrenia) was cultivated by "pathogenic secrecy."  Mowrer was a fierce opponent of Freudianism, which in essence argues that neurotic behavior stems from "inappropriate" guilt instigated by an insufferably overbearing superego.  Mowrer hypothesized instead that real (not "imagined") guilt, resulting from some sort of actual sin, was largely responsible for the onset and persistence of psychopathology.

He wrote, for example, this [3; p. 148]:  "The condition which we currently label as neurosis or psychosis is the same as that which an earlier era knew as a state of sin or disgrace; and the defining character of both is the presence in one's life of shameful secrets.  When Havelock Ellis was once asked what he thought of Freud's ideas, he dismissed the question by saying that, in his opinion, personality difficulties are due, not to the unconscious, but to the unuttered ..."

 Mower further noted [3; p. 152]:  "In a recent study, Cressy (1953) points out that a part of the embezzler's 'problem' is that it is 'unsharable.'  This state of affairs, it seems, characterizes many other situations which get human beings into emotional or legal difficulties,  It is an essential feature of the present argument that no one ever goes to prison or to a mental hospital who has (or had) nothing 'to hide.' "  [emboldened emphasis, mine]

Not surprisingly, Mowrer [3; p. 191] saw great wisdom in Bonhoeffer's pleading reminder to his Church [4; p. 112]: "In confession the break-through to community takes place.  Sin demands to have a man by himself.  It withdraws him from the community.  The more isolated a person is, the more destructive will be the power of sin over him; and the more deeply he becomes involved in it, the more disastrous is his isolation.  Sin wants to remain unknown.  It shuns the light.  In the darkness of the unexpressed, it poisons the whole being of a person.  This can happen even in the midst of a pious community.  In confession, the light of the Gospel breaks into the darkness and seclusion of the heart.  The sin must be brought into the light.  The unexpressed must be openly spoken and acknowledged.  All that is secret and hidden is made manifest.  It is a hard struggle until the sin is openly admitted.  But God breaks gates of brass and bars of iron (Ps 107:16). "  [emboldened emphasis, mine]

Acknowledgment must be further afforded Mowrer [3; p. 155] as he brilliantly ties together the plaintive verses of  Ps 139 with the observations found in the haunting lines of  Francis Thompson's poem ("The Hound of Heaven"):

I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the midst of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vista-ed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipited,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasm-ed fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturb-ed pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat -- and a Voice beat
More instant than the Feet --
"All things betray thee, who betrayest Me."

Sin betrays God, lancing His flesh yet again; and should I choose to run away from that sin and that truth, then all things ... community, body, spirit, and mind ... are prone to betray me in turn.

Or, to re-phrase things another way:   "The real evil in mental disorder is not to be found in the [Freudian] conflict, but the sense of isolation or estrangement ... What is needed is forgiveness and restoration to the fellowship of that social something which we call God."  -- from a personal communication of Dr. Anton T. Boisen (Worcester MA State Hospital) to Dr. O. Hobart Mowrer [3; p. 64]

And so we'll close for now, praising the revealed Name of that ineffable "social something:"

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost,
As it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever.  Amen!

Citations:
[1]   Chemnitz, M. :  Ministry, Word, and Sacraments.  An Enchiridion, "Absolution," Sec. 283, p. 133,  Concordia Publishing House (St. Louis MO), 1981 translation
[2]   Mt 16:19
[3]   Mowrer, O. Hobart :  The Crisis in Psychiatry and Religion, D. Van Nostrand (Princeton NJ), 1961
[4]   Bonhoeffer,  D. :  Life Together, Harper & Row (New York NY), 1954 translation

Next (Deo volente) :  Part 3.  Case studies, from the files of Dr. Meehl (courtesy of CPH) and Dr. Boise (courtesy of The American Psychologist)