Mighty Spirit, dwell with me: I myself would mighty be,
mighty so as to prevail where unaided I must fail,
ever, by a mighty hope, pressing on and bearing up.
First through sixth grades, I went to catechism classes at the local Wesleyan church. The meeting was called CYC, which was an acronym for something, but I've forgotten exactly what. Probably something like Christian Youth Club. I've got tons of stories from these Wednesday nights, many of them now horrifying to me after experiencing the other side of youth work, but this verse reminded me of the lessons on omnipotence.
Omnipotence: God is all-powerful. My grasp of most of these lessons was a little poor, due not so much to bad teaching as to the antics of a few cousins who weren't that interested in attentive listening. I really never got this one, though, and I don't think it was entirely my fault. The more I think about omnipotence, and the more I read about it, the bigger a mess it seems. What is God powerful to do? Does anyone else in the system have power? Is power a relevant concept if it is only possesed by one member of a system?
But mighty? Absolutely. Mighty is a Psalms word, a word I feel like I can sink in to and let hold me. Mighty makes me think of strong hands, of bears and spider webs. Mighty doesn't often make me think of me, but it does make me think of my hope for my growth in grace.
Mighty reminds me of a tent meeting experience this summer. We had thunderstorms off and on, all week, but one evening they seemed localized overtop of our tent. My parents, who live about a mile further up the hill from where we were meeting, thought that the storm was down in town because it didn't rain at their house. Latecomers who stopped at the gas station on their way up, though, said it was dry and clear in town and that folks were standing in the parking lot, looking at the thunderclouds swirling on the hill. Standing outside in the rain, I could see the edges of the thundercloud all the way around us, with the setting sun poking around in a ring beneath, skimming the treetops and reflecting off the raindrops in prisms.
It was like a display of mightiness, just for us. I could tell similar stories with a more personal, psychological bent, but this image sums up most of what I see when I think of the Almighty.
"Ever, by a mighty hope..." The Almighty aspect of God is the ground of soverignty, which is our mighty hope. May the Mighty Spirit dwell with us all.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
light to silence
First a post on silence, and now one on light. I guess I'm feeling Quakerly this morning:
This, obviously, has huge implications for the field of intercessory prayer. If we start praying really fast, maybe Constantine won't have united church and state.
...in the latest example of logic-defying tricks that physicists can now perform with light, Dr. Boyd and his colleagues demonstrated an optical fiber — a glass strand that transmits pulses of light — with a couple of odd characteristics:
-A pulse of light shot into the fiber departs before it enters.
-Within the fiber, the pulse travels backward — and faster than the speed of light.
Perhaps most amazingly, Dr. Boyd's results do not violate any law of physics. The effect is indeed predicted by the equations describing the propagation of waves.
"This is a good example of something which is very counterintuitive that the laws of nature permit," Dr. Boyd said.
This, obviously, has huge implications for the field of intercessory prayer. If we start praying really fast, maybe Constantine won't have united church and state.
discernment, part the third
Silent Spirit, dwell with me: I myself would silent be,
quiet as the growing blade, which through earth its way has made,
silently, like morning light, putting mists and chills to flight.
Posted in silence... almost.
quiet as the growing blade, which through earth its way has made,
silently, like morning light, putting mists and chills to flight.
Posted in silence... almost.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
dance dance revolution
In the comments on this post, carl asked why I can't dance. I almost wrote a comment in return, but then the post will fall off the page and I'm not sure if carl would ever see it again.
The first reason I can't dance is an utter lack of coordination and skills. This lack is in part related to reason two, but I think some of it is genetic as well.
The second reason is more complicated. Wesleyans tend to be somewhat more situational in their ethics, which I'm defining as 'more situational than some Baptists I've met.' John Wesley's support of temperance, for instance, was grounded in the social problems caused by drunkenness and the diversion of grain from the bakeries to creat gin. Another argument I've heard in favor of temperance, only from Baptists, is that the books of Proverbs clearly prohibits alcohol consumption, and when Jesus made and drank wine it was really 'new wine,' which is grape juice.* My heritage is with the Wesleyan holiness movement, and so the model of temperance that I've (not entirely) inherited is more similar to a boycott than a rejection of drinking alcohol as evil.**
Anyway, the beginning of the 1900's was a heyday of progressive social activism among evangelical Americans. One of the biggest goals of the temperance movement, aside from getting everyone to stop boozing, was to close down bars. (My favorite temperance activist, Carrie Nation, would attack saloons with her hatchet.) Generally, temperance advocates would boycott everything associated with bars, including dancing, pool playing, secular music, and dartboards.
Fast foward a generation, after Prohibition has been repealed, the millenalist hopes of the evangelicals have been frustrated, and the once progessively methodist churches have turned inward for a period of introspection known as the Holiness Movement. Everyone knows that dancing, pool playing, secular music, dartboards and drinking are wrong, but noone exactly remembers why. Instead of revitalizing our social witness or letting go of these "ought nots," we codified them as evils of the outside world, markers of those who were less holy than us.
Dancing, in particular, was seen as a pleasure of the body, seductive in form and impossible to conduct in a public arena without arousing lust. Toss in the distain for the body that runs through almost all pietist religion, and an extra measure of fear directed towards women's bodies, and you can build in a child a rather strong sense of guilt about dancing that persists to this day... all because someone's great-grandma was all excited about Prohibition.
At least, that's how I understand it. Better Methodists than me are invited to leave comments explaining why I'm wrong.
*Clarification: saying that I've only heard this from Baptists is not the same as saying that all Baptists argue this way, so you millitant Baptist image protectors can head on home.
**Practically speaking, I don't drink alcohol often or make a regular habit of socializing around it because I have a ridiculously high tolerance level, and that's not a path I want to pursue. But I can dress it up morally by talking about social justice issues, and there is truth to the idea that neither Budweiser nor Smiley's Pub need my money.
The first reason I can't dance is an utter lack of coordination and skills. This lack is in part related to reason two, but I think some of it is genetic as well.
The second reason is more complicated. Wesleyans tend to be somewhat more situational in their ethics, which I'm defining as 'more situational than some Baptists I've met.' John Wesley's support of temperance, for instance, was grounded in the social problems caused by drunkenness and the diversion of grain from the bakeries to creat gin. Another argument I've heard in favor of temperance, only from Baptists, is that the books of Proverbs clearly prohibits alcohol consumption, and when Jesus made and drank wine it was really 'new wine,' which is grape juice.* My heritage is with the Wesleyan holiness movement, and so the model of temperance that I've (not entirely) inherited is more similar to a boycott than a rejection of drinking alcohol as evil.**
Anyway, the beginning of the 1900's was a heyday of progressive social activism among evangelical Americans. One of the biggest goals of the temperance movement, aside from getting everyone to stop boozing, was to close down bars. (My favorite temperance activist, Carrie Nation, would attack saloons with her hatchet.) Generally, temperance advocates would boycott everything associated with bars, including dancing, pool playing, secular music, and dartboards.
Fast foward a generation, after Prohibition has been repealed, the millenalist hopes of the evangelicals have been frustrated, and the once progessively methodist churches have turned inward for a period of introspection known as the Holiness Movement. Everyone knows that dancing, pool playing, secular music, dartboards and drinking are wrong, but noone exactly remembers why. Instead of revitalizing our social witness or letting go of these "ought nots," we codified them as evils of the outside world, markers of those who were less holy than us.
Dancing, in particular, was seen as a pleasure of the body, seductive in form and impossible to conduct in a public arena without arousing lust. Toss in the distain for the body that runs through almost all pietist religion, and an extra measure of fear directed towards women's bodies, and you can build in a child a rather strong sense of guilt about dancing that persists to this day... all because someone's great-grandma was all excited about Prohibition.
At least, that's how I understand it. Better Methodists than me are invited to leave comments explaining why I'm wrong.
*Clarification: saying that I've only heard this from Baptists is not the same as saying that all Baptists argue this way, so you millitant Baptist image protectors can head on home.
**Practically speaking, I don't drink alcohol often or make a regular habit of socializing around it because I have a ridiculously high tolerance level, and that's not a path I want to pursue. But I can dress it up morally by talking about social justice issues, and there is truth to the idea that neither Budweiser nor Smiley's Pub need my money.
national guard
National Guard headed to the Mexican border:
Fantastic.
Since there is no emergency situation to speak of, it’s safe to say there’s exactly no real reason to court violence on the border, but since when Bush need a reason to send troops to point guns at people? Hell, that it’s a warm, sunny day is reason enough to deploy troops in the hopes someone gets shot. Nice weather just calls for someone’s brains to be blown out all over the ground.
Fantastic.
discernment, part the second
Truthful Spirit, dwell with me: I myself would truthful be,
and, with wisdom kind and clear, let thy life in mine appear,
and, with actions lovingly speak my Lord's sincerity.
I remember as a child being entranced one evening by the way paper lanterns glow. We were at a cookout or picnic or something, I guess: I don't remember anything about the evening other than that multicolored string of paper lanterns. I stood there staring at those lanterns and thinking about Jesus in my heart, a phrase I heard often at home and less often at seminary. That's the image I've carried of 'Jesus in my heart' since, that something was lighting in me, and I needed to be thinskinned enough to allow that light through.
He must become greater; I must become less... that's what "let thy life in mine appear" makes me think of. Somehow, a new life, a more truthful life, lives its way through me, glowing like a votive enclosed by a hopefully transluscent me.
Truthful Spirit, dwell with me.
and, with wisdom kind and clear, let thy life in mine appear,
and, with actions lovingly speak my Lord's sincerity.
I remember as a child being entranced one evening by the way paper lanterns glow. We were at a cookout or picnic or something, I guess: I don't remember anything about the evening other than that multicolored string of paper lanterns. I stood there staring at those lanterns and thinking about Jesus in my heart, a phrase I heard often at home and less often at seminary. That's the image I've carried of 'Jesus in my heart' since, that something was lighting in me, and I needed to be thinskinned enough to allow that light through.
He must become greater; I must become less... that's what "let thy life in mine appear" makes me think of. Somehow, a new life, a more truthful life, lives its way through me, glowing like a votive enclosed by a hopefully transluscent me.
Truthful Spirit, dwell with me.
Monday, May 15, 2006
crib sheet
My dad tells me that as long as I'm going study fake stuff instead of pursuing science, I should at least get a PhD. I mull this over, now and then, but I'm such an academic slacker that I don't know if I'd pull it off or not.
So, instead of reading for tomorrow's class, I found this crib sheet on Christianity. I love these sorts of things, which again speaks to my slackery- I've grown up in this religion, and I'd still rather read a goofy crib sheet than buckle down to read Nouwen.
Premillenialism
This is the belief among some Christians that, ever since Jan. 1, 2000, it has no longer been possible, in the words of the Prince song, "to party like it's 1999." Postmillenialists are those Christians who believe that it will always be possible to do so, while Amillenialists believe that in this context, "1999" cannot be understood literally, but must be read as an allegorical term roughly meaning "a time at which it is especially appropriate to party."
Orthodox
For many years, American scholars believed the Orthodox were, like leprechauns, unicorns, and Eskimos, purely the product of the fanciful imaginations of medieval writers. Recent evidence leads us to tentatively conclude, however, that Eastern Orthodoxy may have somewhere in the neighborhood of 250 million adherents. Protestants tend to see the Orthodox as "Catholics with beards," while Catholics confess to a haunting sense that they are simply "Orthodox without beards."
The Trinity
This is the Christian expression of God, who Christians say is personified by the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Not all Christians accept this: Unitarians, Jehovah's Witnesses, and some Pentecostals reject trinitarianism, as do Muslims. Interestingly, while this does not mean Pentecostals are Muslim, it does mean that Muslims are Jehovah's Witnesses. St. Augustine famously summed up the difficulty of comprehending the Trinity when he recounted a dream in which a small boy told him he would need a bigger bucket if he wanted to bail out the ocean.
And my absolute favorite:
The Emerging Church
This is a term that refers to churches attended exclusively by white people in their 20s and 30s who have at least one tattoo or body piercing. Their distinguishing characteristics are a refreshing, "up to date" interpretation of Christianity, and a reluctance to directly answer questions.
If I had a buck for every minute I spent trying to sort out Brian McLaren's 'emergent' view of Christianity, I'd spend it on ice cream. That's not specific to the emergent movement, I suppose; I've read a lot of books that retrospectively seem like massive wastes of my time. I do like ice cream, though.
Scroll down through the comments at holyoffice for Jesus-specific commentary and an explaination of why the devil has all the good music.
So, instead of reading for tomorrow's class, I found this crib sheet on Christianity. I love these sorts of things, which again speaks to my slackery- I've grown up in this religion, and I'd still rather read a goofy crib sheet than buckle down to read Nouwen.
Premillenialism
This is the belief among some Christians that, ever since Jan. 1, 2000, it has no longer been possible, in the words of the Prince song, "to party like it's 1999." Postmillenialists are those Christians who believe that it will always be possible to do so, while Amillenialists believe that in this context, "1999" cannot be understood literally, but must be read as an allegorical term roughly meaning "a time at which it is especially appropriate to party."
Orthodox
For many years, American scholars believed the Orthodox were, like leprechauns, unicorns, and Eskimos, purely the product of the fanciful imaginations of medieval writers. Recent evidence leads us to tentatively conclude, however, that Eastern Orthodoxy may have somewhere in the neighborhood of 250 million adherents. Protestants tend to see the Orthodox as "Catholics with beards," while Catholics confess to a haunting sense that they are simply "Orthodox without beards."
The Trinity
This is the Christian expression of God, who Christians say is personified by the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Not all Christians accept this: Unitarians, Jehovah's Witnesses, and some Pentecostals reject trinitarianism, as do Muslims. Interestingly, while this does not mean Pentecostals are Muslim, it does mean that Muslims are Jehovah's Witnesses. St. Augustine famously summed up the difficulty of comprehending the Trinity when he recounted a dream in which a small boy told him he would need a bigger bucket if he wanted to bail out the ocean.
And my absolute favorite:
The Emerging Church
This is a term that refers to churches attended exclusively by white people in their 20s and 30s who have at least one tattoo or body piercing. Their distinguishing characteristics are a refreshing, "up to date" interpretation of Christianity, and a reluctance to directly answer questions.
If I had a buck for every minute I spent trying to sort out Brian McLaren's 'emergent' view of Christianity, I'd spend it on ice cream. That's not specific to the emergent movement, I suppose; I've read a lot of books that retrospectively seem like massive wastes of my time. I do like ice cream, though.
Scroll down through the comments at holyoffice for Jesus-specific commentary and an explaination of why the devil has all the good music.
discernment, part the first
Gracious Spirit, dwell with me: I myself would gracious be,
and, with words that help and heal, would thy life in mine reveal,
and, with actions bold and meek, would for Christ my Savior speak.
Nothing like starting off with big ambitions!
and, with words that help and heal, would thy life in mine reveal,
and, with actions bold and meek, would for Christ my Savior speak.
Nothing like starting off with big ambitions!
Sunday, May 14, 2006
foolishness
Papers due at 8:30 tomorrow are still not written. Instead, I'm cleaning out an old email account I was using to hold papers I wrote at Houghton. I found this in one of the emails:
"Purgatory is an intermediate state. You know, I like to think of New Jersey as an intermediate state..."
~Dr. Tyson
It made me laugh, I think mostly because I finished all of my papers for Tyson by the skin of my teeth, too. I'm going to need dentures by the time I graduate, either dentures or anxiety medication.
"Purgatory is an intermediate state. You know, I like to think of New Jersey as an intermediate state..."
~Dr. Tyson
It made me laugh, I think mostly because I finished all of my papers for Tyson by the skin of my teeth, too. I'm going to need dentures by the time I graduate, either dentures or anxiety medication.
atonement
Hopefully this makes up for the Kiss post:
Blessed are you, almighty God,
for you have raised from the dead
your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ.
You are the ineffable sea of love,
the fountain of blessings,
and you water us with plenteous streams
from the riches of your grace
and the most sweet springs of your kindness.
For these and all your mercies, we praise you,
Father, Son and Holy Spirit:
Blessed be God for ever!
Blessed are you, almighty God,
for you have raised from the dead
your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ.
You are the ineffable sea of love,
the fountain of blessings,
and you water us with plenteous streams
from the riches of your grace
and the most sweet springs of your kindness.
For these and all your mercies, we praise you,
Father, Son and Holy Spirit:
Blessed be God for ever!
celebreducks
Not sure what to make of this, but I wanted to share. Keep this in mind if you know of any small children that need scaring.
Or 24 year old seminarians, for that matter- I'd be frightened of rubber Kiss ducks. Singing about how rubber duckies make my bathtime so much fun (Rubber Duckie, I'm awfully fond of you!) would not be nearly as much fun while staring at one of these.
chutney
I'm in a canning mood. Which should I make?
Asian Plum-Onion Chutney
Onion-Raspberry Jalapeno Chutney
Cranberry Chutney
Apricot Date Chutney
Pear Ginger Chutney
Pineapple Chutney
Asian Plum-Onion Chutney
Onion-Raspberry Jalapeno Chutney
Cranberry Chutney
Apricot Date Chutney
Pear Ginger Chutney
Pineapple Chutney
dandelions
My poor, lamented truck is still sitting, dead, out at Scot's house. I use the cab as a bookshelf, cd holder, kitchen counter and junk drawer, so having the truck out in West Alex instead of parked outside the house has been an inconvenience. I was out there for lunch yesterday, and brought home a large soup pot full of books, batteries, mail, Iggy Pop, and the umbrella I've been wanting all week.
Yes, there was a soup pot in the cab of my truck. No, I don't remember why.
One of the things I found in my truck was a favorite cd, Five Iron Frenzy's Quantity Is Job 1. I don't often talk about my favorite music; it seems like my opinions on music are often met with shocked silence that someone as intelligent and charming as me could have such abysmal taste.* I like everything about this cd, though, especially how the second half is a rock opera on a pair of unclaimed pants.
My version is burned copy of my sister Kim's, who bought it at a Christian bookstore. With no disrespect intended to Christian bookstore proprietors in general, this particular bookstore is a disorganized mish-mash of flowery bookmarks and Bible cases, godly smut books set either in the 1800's or in Lancaster County, and Left Behind paraphernalia.
(Do you have your official Left Behind tote bag? It's perfect for all your 'carrying cash to heaven' needs. Get yours before Jesus comes back and it's too late to accessorize your heavenly gown!)
The store is well intended, I'm sure, but I don't remember ever being a fan of going there. Usually I get excited about bookstores, but the books in this store just aren't that exciting, although I bet they have the new spring line of KJVs. It's not the sort of place where I expect to find an album with lyrics like these:
Go and get your riotgear,
swing your girlie all around,
we'll be dancing on the cinders,
as the town is burning down.
The best part of the song, though, is that it doesn't sound angry at all, just goofiness and peppy ska. The difference between your average antiauthority folks and Five Iron Frenzy is that they have fun while cop-baiting.
Over Christmas, I told Kim that I was going to take a preaching class this semester. She laughed, asked if I was going to come preach at their church (answer: not without a sex change) at then started singing a song off this album:
My evil plan to save the world,
just you wait 'till it's unfurled,
it'll go down in history.
It's prophetic, no it's not pathetic.
I can't believe I made it up myself
This is one of my favorite songs on the cd, and remains so even though I hummed it over and over during that preaching class, grinning and imagining myself in the pulpit insisting that I'm prophetic, not pathetic, and you ought to listen to my plan.
She also tried to rap "Livin' in a Feminazi Paradise," but that's a different story altogether.
Anyway, I'm listening to this cd today while 'working' on my discernment paper. I need to call my mother soon for the sort of conversations that worried mothers have with unemployed daughters who read too much.** The song Dandelions made me think of my mom today, which is the point of this whole rambling post.
In a field of yellow flowers,
underneath the sun,
bluest eyes that spark with lightning,
boy with shoes undone.
He is young, so full of hope,
reveling in tiny dreams,
filling up, his arms with flowers,
right for giving any queen.
Running to her beaming bright,
while cradling his prize.
A flickering of yellow light,
within his mother's eyes.
She holds them to her heart,
keeping them where they'll be safe,
clasped within her very marrow,
dandelions in a vase.
She sees love, where anyone else would see weeds.
all hope is found.
Here is everything he needs.
*intelligent and charming = arrogant and underexposed to normal pop culture, I guess.
**Mother's Day is for commies. Just saying.
Yes, there was a soup pot in the cab of my truck. No, I don't remember why.
One of the things I found in my truck was a favorite cd, Five Iron Frenzy's Quantity Is Job 1. I don't often talk about my favorite music; it seems like my opinions on music are often met with shocked silence that someone as intelligent and charming as me could have such abysmal taste.* I like everything about this cd, though, especially how the second half is a rock opera on a pair of unclaimed pants.
My version is burned copy of my sister Kim's, who bought it at a Christian bookstore. With no disrespect intended to Christian bookstore proprietors in general, this particular bookstore is a disorganized mish-mash of flowery bookmarks and Bible cases, godly smut books set either in the 1800's or in Lancaster County, and Left Behind paraphernalia.
(Do you have your official Left Behind tote bag? It's perfect for all your 'carrying cash to heaven' needs. Get yours before Jesus comes back and it's too late to accessorize your heavenly gown!)
The store is well intended, I'm sure, but I don't remember ever being a fan of going there. Usually I get excited about bookstores, but the books in this store just aren't that exciting, although I bet they have the new spring line of KJVs. It's not the sort of place where I expect to find an album with lyrics like these:
Go and get your riotgear,
swing your girlie all around,
we'll be dancing on the cinders,
as the town is burning down.
The best part of the song, though, is that it doesn't sound angry at all, just goofiness and peppy ska. The difference between your average antiauthority folks and Five Iron Frenzy is that they have fun while cop-baiting.
Over Christmas, I told Kim that I was going to take a preaching class this semester. She laughed, asked if I was going to come preach at their church (answer: not without a sex change) at then started singing a song off this album:
My evil plan to save the world,
just you wait 'till it's unfurled,
it'll go down in history.
It's prophetic, no it's not pathetic.
I can't believe I made it up myself
This is one of my favorite songs on the cd, and remains so even though I hummed it over and over during that preaching class, grinning and imagining myself in the pulpit insisting that I'm prophetic, not pathetic, and you ought to listen to my plan.
She also tried to rap "Livin' in a Feminazi Paradise," but that's a different story altogether.
Anyway, I'm listening to this cd today while 'working' on my discernment paper. I need to call my mother soon for the sort of conversations that worried mothers have with unemployed daughters who read too much.** The song Dandelions made me think of my mom today, which is the point of this whole rambling post.
In a field of yellow flowers,
underneath the sun,
bluest eyes that spark with lightning,
boy with shoes undone.
He is young, so full of hope,
reveling in tiny dreams,
filling up, his arms with flowers,
right for giving any queen.
Running to her beaming bright,
while cradling his prize.
A flickering of yellow light,
within his mother's eyes.
She holds them to her heart,
keeping them where they'll be safe,
clasped within her very marrow,
dandelions in a vase.
She sees love, where anyone else would see weeds.
all hope is found.
Here is everything he needs.
*intelligent and charming = arrogant and underexposed to normal pop culture, I guess.
**Mother's Day is for commies. Just saying.
Friday, May 12, 2006
barbarians
I loved this article, and not only because it used the word 'codswallop.' Having taken five years of high school Latin, I've been fairly well biased to believe the typical Roman/barbarian distinction made in history books, where (Athens and) Rome were centers of civilization surrounded by hordes of uncivilized tribes. After all, Rome brought us Ovid and Cicero, while 'the rest of Europe' brought us the Huns.
All goes to show the importance of keeping and perserving good records, I guess.
Here's a poem by David Wright, from the New Pantagruel:
Against Nation
You got your swords, plows, assorted hooks–
pruning, fishing,
latches for doors,
needles too many to count.
My desk drawer fills with sharp points, blunt
edges, fasteners, openers, golf tees,
a guitar pick.
I’ve never strummed a single chord, or beaten
anything into anything else useful–
spade from a spent shell,
dulcimer pounded to lonesome tune.
Wreck and reckon.
It will be a battered world
when an echo pierces the skin,
the cluttered air,
our ears and their hammered,
quite delicate drums.
All goes to show the importance of keeping and perserving good records, I guess.
Here's a poem by David Wright, from the New Pantagruel:
Against Nation
You got your swords, plows, assorted hooks–
pruning, fishing,
latches for doors,
needles too many to count.
My desk drawer fills with sharp points, blunt
edges, fasteners, openers, golf tees,
a guitar pick.
I’ve never strummed a single chord, or beaten
anything into anything else useful–
spade from a spent shell,
dulcimer pounded to lonesome tune.
Wreck and reckon.
It will be a battered world
when an echo pierces the skin,
the cluttered air,
our ears and their hammered,
quite delicate drums.
ahmadinejad
From Ekklesia:
"The White House has publicly dismissed an extraordinary letter from Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad which challenges President George W. Bush’s attachment to Christian values by time-and-again asking how his warlike actions square up with the teachings of Jesus.
The letter also says that liberal democracy has failed and that people across the world are turning to the monotheistic religions. It asks “Is there no better way to interact with the rest of the world?” and declares: “Undoubtedly through faith in God and the teachings of the prophets, the people will conquer their problems. My question for you is: Do you not want to join them?”
[...]
What is extraordinary about the document is its overtly religious appeal. The Iranian leader asks his American counterpart: “Can one be a follower of Jesus Christ (Peace be upon him), the great Messenger of God, feel obliged to respect human rights, present liberalism as a model of civilization, announce one's opposition to the proliferation of nuclear weapons and WMDs, make ‘war [on] terror’ your slogan and finally, work towards the establishment of a unified international community”, but at the same time pursue policies of war and militarism?"
I have no idea what showed up on the normal news about this, but Rob Corddry from the Daily Show did a great analysis- click on the video titled Eighteen Page Letter.
And one more quote from Ahmadinejad:
“Mr President, it is not my intention to distress anyone. If the prophets Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Ishmael, Joseph or Jesus Christ (PBUH) were with us today, how would they have judged such behaviour? Will we be given a role to play in the promised world, where justice will become universal and Jesus Christ (PBUH) will be present? Will they even accept us?”
Full text of the letter here.
"The White House has publicly dismissed an extraordinary letter from Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad which challenges President George W. Bush’s attachment to Christian values by time-and-again asking how his warlike actions square up with the teachings of Jesus.
The letter also says that liberal democracy has failed and that people across the world are turning to the monotheistic religions. It asks “Is there no better way to interact with the rest of the world?” and declares: “Undoubtedly through faith in God and the teachings of the prophets, the people will conquer their problems. My question for you is: Do you not want to join them?”
[...]
What is extraordinary about the document is its overtly religious appeal. The Iranian leader asks his American counterpart: “Can one be a follower of Jesus Christ (Peace be upon him), the great Messenger of God, feel obliged to respect human rights, present liberalism as a model of civilization, announce one's opposition to the proliferation of nuclear weapons and WMDs, make ‘war [on] terror’ your slogan and finally, work towards the establishment of a unified international community”, but at the same time pursue policies of war and militarism?"
I have no idea what showed up on the normal news about this, but Rob Corddry from the Daily Show did a great analysis- click on the video titled Eighteen Page Letter.
And one more quote from Ahmadinejad:
“Mr President, it is not my intention to distress anyone. If the prophets Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Ishmael, Joseph or Jesus Christ (PBUH) were with us today, how would they have judged such behaviour? Will we be given a role to play in the promised world, where justice will become universal and Jesus Christ (PBUH) will be present? Will they even accept us?”
Full text of the letter here.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
rumi
I'm stuck reading this week on the Enneagram, and the whole thing seems more floozy and fanciful as I read. The book I'm reading is the best I've found thus far, and it's still irritatingly ungrounded.
On the bright side, though, there's an intriguing Rumi poem in the section on the Fall. Discuss repentance in the comments, or whatever.
You've been fearful
of being absorbed in the ground,
or drawn up by the air.
Now, your waterbead lets go
and drops into the ocean,
where it came from.
It no longer has the form it had,
but it's still water.
The essence is the same.
This giving up is not a repenting.
It's a deep honoring of yourself.
On the bright side, though, there's an intriguing Rumi poem in the section on the Fall. Discuss repentance in the comments, or whatever.
You've been fearful
of being absorbed in the ground,
or drawn up by the air.
Now, your waterbead lets go
and drops into the ocean,
where it came from.
It no longer has the form it had,
but it's still water.
The essence is the same.
This giving up is not a repenting.
It's a deep honoring of yourself.
discernment
I made myself a Johari window a while ago, intending to email it around and see what resulted, but then I forgot. So, here's your chance to let me know what you think of me.
I dare you to be more insightful than the Henri Nouwen book that I'm not reading. Sending that book to Michigan with Scot probably wasn't the sharpest academic decision I've ever made, but the paper will hopefully get done over the weekend.
I dare you to be more insightful than the Henri Nouwen book that I'm not reading. Sending that book to Michigan with Scot probably wasn't the sharpest academic decision I've ever made, but the paper will hopefully get done over the weekend.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
similarly
Related to the ISTP musings, does anyone else get the urge to engage in reckless physical activity when tornados are coming in? I've been able to predict when Rita will be hovering by the TV talking about tornado watches when I get home, because those are the days when I drive to Fountain City and back at 80mph with my seat belt off and my arm out the window, just to feel my stomach fly. Is there a psychological effect to pressure changes, or am I just wierd?
mosaic
When I grow up, I want to be a tile artist. Looking at products like these makes me want to start scrubbing surfaces and mixing grout.
Actually, I think what I really want is a house with a garage where I can putter. I love academics, but I think I like working with my hands even more. I've been thinking all year- if I had the space, I could tile the top of an end table, or paint glass, or build a bookshelf, or buy a sewing machine and make hippie skirts, or turn wooden bowls and cups, or bead jewelry... my list of things I'd rather do than read a book keeps growing and growing, and knitting scarves isn't filling the gap. I think I've read fewer books this year than any other year in my life, which isn't exactly what I came to seminary to do. (Furthermore, it's both a suprising and a distressing realization.)
And a motorcycle. I'd really like a motorcycle. I walked past a motorcycle for sale today, a small one that would be perfect for me if I happened to have 800 dollars to spend on a machine to burn gas with. Vroom vroom.
Amid all this reading and preparation for the Discernment class, I keep wondering if I'm really an intuitive. Myers-Briggswise, I test as an INTP. I need to do more reading in Jung over the summer to better understand the system, but almost all the descriptions I've read of INTPs sound as though I ought to live a detached life within in my own mind, have no practical interest in the outcome of the theories that I create, and have little to no interest in working with people who do not meet my high standards of competence.
Other parts of the INTP descriptions sound a lot like me (distracted, analytical and critical, quietly arrogant...), but I'm less and less sure that the type fits me overall. It certainly doesn't sound like the process by which I ended up in seminary. I can't do much about my thinkerlyness, perhaps- although I've been challenged to consider whether or not I'm really a feeler- but I find myself cycling back to the parts of the ISTP description that fit me. Particularly the part about the motorcycles.
I think I only rethink this after confidently telling someone, "oh sure, I test as an intuitive, and here's why..." There is a part of me that loves meandering through thoughtfields with a good friend or two, constructing the day's reality wholecloth in our minds. On the other hand, I think there's a part of me that would love tiling vases just as much, and I haven't figured out how to give that part fair play. I can imagine what I want to create, but not where I'd do it.
There's just something about the prospect of two more years in seminary that makes me reconsider my decision to come here instead of applying to trucking school. I've been wondering how to go about itemizing what I'm looking for in an apartment, and I'm starting to think that unfussy space is going to be my highest priority.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
kim
I got a phone call from my mom today, most of which consisted of me yelling "what?" into the phone. I think this might mean that the squirrels are chewing the phone wires again. I was in high school when my dad and I replaced all the phone wires because of the squirrels, but I don't know what the average squirrel-enhanced decay rate is for a wire.
More important the squirrels, though, my sister Kim talked to (yelled at) me about having gone to the prom last weekend. Proms, and dancing in general, are new to our family. My cousin Ben, who's three years older than me, was the first of the home crowd to go to prom, and it was a mini-scandal for the family. I remember my poor Sunday School teacher, who had married one of my grandpa's first cousins, being absolutely appalled than one of the kids she helped to educate would attend a late night party and perhaps even dance with the provocatively dressed girls.
It was less of a big deal when me and the cousins of my age went to prom. Many older family members, this time around, tried to be oh-so-cosmopolitan in their reactions, acting as though they were not bothered by our participation in a dance while underhandedly warning us about the dangers of public licentiousness. With Kim, I'm not sure how the reaction would have gone; Zack would be the only cousin of her age who isn't homeschooled, and I don't know if he went to prom or not. She didn't complain about anyone telling her not to dance, though, which makes me suspect that no one did.
I'm sort of glad that Kim doesn't feel guilty about dancing. I sure do, and I feel awkward when friends want to go dancing and I can't enjoy coming along. Less pointless guilt is generally a good thing, and Kim isn't such a good kid that she can't find legitimate things to feel guilty about.
On the other hand, I wish that older family members still felt as empowered to criticize her as they did me, and as open to criticize me as they did my dad a generation ago. As irritating as it is to be told by various family folks how to act, as though my last name determines my moral character, that open criticism from family members who've paid their dues over the decades is part of what made our family so strong. Most of it is even useful advice- as much as I hate to admit it, I am 24, headstrong, and sometimes deeply in need of good advice from folks who remember being 24 and headstrong, and remember my father when he was 24 and every bit as stubborn as me.
Point is, I'm not sure who lets Kim wear so much eye makeup, but I'm pleased that she had a good time. I just hope she's getting reamed about other things, so that she has the full family experience.
More important the squirrels, though, my sister Kim talked to (yelled at) me about having gone to the prom last weekend. Proms, and dancing in general, are new to our family. My cousin Ben, who's three years older than me, was the first of the home crowd to go to prom, and it was a mini-scandal for the family. I remember my poor Sunday School teacher, who had married one of my grandpa's first cousins, being absolutely appalled than one of the kids she helped to educate would attend a late night party and perhaps even dance with the provocatively dressed girls.
It was less of a big deal when me and the cousins of my age went to prom. Many older family members, this time around, tried to be oh-so-cosmopolitan in their reactions, acting as though they were not bothered by our participation in a dance while underhandedly warning us about the dangers of public licentiousness. With Kim, I'm not sure how the reaction would have gone; Zack would be the only cousin of her age who isn't homeschooled, and I don't know if he went to prom or not. She didn't complain about anyone telling her not to dance, though, which makes me suspect that no one did.
I'm sort of glad that Kim doesn't feel guilty about dancing. I sure do, and I feel awkward when friends want to go dancing and I can't enjoy coming along. Less pointless guilt is generally a good thing, and Kim isn't such a good kid that she can't find legitimate things to feel guilty about.
On the other hand, I wish that older family members still felt as empowered to criticize her as they did me, and as open to criticize me as they did my dad a generation ago. As irritating as it is to be told by various family folks how to act, as though my last name determines my moral character, that open criticism from family members who've paid their dues over the decades is part of what made our family so strong. Most of it is even useful advice- as much as I hate to admit it, I am 24, headstrong, and sometimes deeply in need of good advice from folks who remember being 24 and headstrong, and remember my father when he was 24 and every bit as stubborn as me.
Point is, I'm not sure who lets Kim wear so much eye makeup, but I'm pleased that she had a good time. I just hope she's getting reamed about other things, so that she has the full family experience.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
falls
This waterfall is about 6 miles from my house. It was owned by the local power company, when I was a kid, and the company had no interest in patrolling the area. There weren't any trails into the cleft, so we used to clamber down through the brush while pushing innertubes along in front of us. We'd soak our sneakers swimming out toward the falls, where the water was coldest and deepest.
I'm not sure if you can see it in this picture, but there's a rock ledge just towards the bottom of the middle stream of water. The second best thing about going to the falls was climbing up on that rock ledge and looking down the river from behind the curtaining water. We could put our hands out into the water to make peepholes, if we wanted, or just watch the blurry dazzle of the water as it splashed on stone.
The best part of going to the falls was jumping off the ledge and into the pool beneath. There was a hair-raising suddenness, moving from the shaded ledge into the sun, being able to see the river clearly for a moment before tumbling back underwater.
New York State owns the falls, now, and the Department of Environment Conservation patrols the area to give tickets to people who would be so stupid as to climb up into slippery waterfalls. Otherwise, I'd invite you all to come home with me and fling yourselves through the water.
I started remembering the falls, though, after yet another long attempt with a friend to determine what a clearness committee is and will be for me. A good many of my experiences of discernment have reminded me of jumping through those falls, the burst of clarity followed by the waters closing over my head. Clearness committee is a new ritual to learn, and learning new rituals is always exhausting (and sometimes terrifying) to me. I can fall into rituals that I know and trust them to carry me, while new rituals feel more like tiptoing, constantly checking to see if the experience will hold me.
One of the weird things about jumping off the falls was the depth and stillness of the pool beneath the falls, and yet how quickly the current would carry me toward the rockpile on the right, or on downstream with a bit of steering. I don't remember ever needing to swim toward the surface in order to breathe. The current itself would surface me, by its own motion and my natural bouyancy.
I've never been through a clearness committee, but I've been through various discernment experiences before, and there will probably be more familiarity here than I'm expecting. I feel as though I'm being rather melodramatic about the entire thing, but thinking about the waterfall this morning reminded me that I do float. Fearing that the waters will close over loses its sting if I can trust the current that guides those waters.
Sorry to bore you with a long stream of introspection, but you did get a pretty picture of a waterfall.
Monday, May 01, 2006
found
Things I found while researching my 5 page paper on liturgical theology, ecclesiology, and the sacraments:
A post on hermeneutics, Derrida, and the interpretative community.
A CD I want.
The best definintion of Pentecostals that I've ever read: part Baptist, part medieval mystic.
An article on "whole-life faith" among Christians.
An article on a college buddy's site about the Beholding/Becoming principle.
Mysterio is the new White House press secretary, appearently.
A blog called Captain Sacrament.
Advice on how the theologically appropriate way to eat mudcake.
Something about the priesthood of all the baptized
And a provoking poem:
The Very Thought
I love the very thought of Heaven:
Where angels sing
In perfect, perpetual choir practice.
Where Father, Son and Spirit rule
Unchallenged
And are honoured in full measure.
I love the very thought of Heaven:
But I was not made
To live there.
I was not made
To walk on clouds,
And bask eternally
In immaterial splendour.
I was made for this green planet:
This tight ball
Of aching beauty,
Alive with the unending possibilities
Of his creative power.
I was made for the sunshine
That blazes through the veins of a leaf
And glints on the tiny, perfect back
Of a ladybird crossing my arm.
I was made to be human
In this most human of places.
I was made for earth:
The earth is my home.
That’s why I’m glad that God,
More than anyone,
Is a friend of the earth:
Prepared as he was to die
For its release.
And that’s why I’m glad
That the magnificent, jewelled foundations
Of the mighty pearly gates
Will be anchored
Deeply and forever
In the soil of earth.
This paper is never going to get done.
A post on hermeneutics, Derrida, and the interpretative community.
A CD I want.
The best definintion of Pentecostals that I've ever read: part Baptist, part medieval mystic.
An article on "whole-life faith" among Christians.
An article on a college buddy's site about the Beholding/Becoming principle.
Mysterio is the new White House press secretary, appearently.
A blog called Captain Sacrament.
Advice on how the theologically appropriate way to eat mudcake.
Something about the priesthood of all the baptized
And a provoking poem:
The Very Thought
I love the very thought of Heaven:
Where angels sing
In perfect, perpetual choir practice.
Where Father, Son and Spirit rule
Unchallenged
And are honoured in full measure.
I love the very thought of Heaven:
But I was not made
To live there.
I was not made
To walk on clouds,
And bask eternally
In immaterial splendour.
I was made for this green planet:
This tight ball
Of aching beauty,
Alive with the unending possibilities
Of his creative power.
I was made for the sunshine
That blazes through the veins of a leaf
And glints on the tiny, perfect back
Of a ladybird crossing my arm.
I was made to be human
In this most human of places.
I was made for earth:
The earth is my home.
That’s why I’m glad that God,
More than anyone,
Is a friend of the earth:
Prepared as he was to die
For its release.
And that’s why I’m glad
That the magnificent, jewelled foundations
Of the mighty pearly gates
Will be anchored
Deeply and forever
In the soil of earth.
This paper is never going to get done.
uncanny
I have a highly refined test in my sociological toolbox for analyzing the Christocentricity of a given denomination of the church. I google their website searching for "justice," and then for "Jesus." As a backup, I search 'peace' and 'Christ' as well.
For instance, the justice/Jesus ratio for the United Methodist Church is 13,100/12,100
Peace: 11,500
Christ: 16,800
FGC Quakers: 105/97 (higher than I expected)
Peace: 204
Christ: 81
Unitarian Universalists: 99,100/14,400
Peace: 56,800
Christ: 10,200
Assemblies of God: 165/35,000
Peace: 717
Christ: 37,400
Anyway, I only started writing about this because I went to the Brethren website to do my justice/Jesus search, and the site crashed every time I searched for Jesus. Go see if I'm making a mistake somehow. When I search for 'justice,' I get 706 responses. When I search for Jesus, I get "Internal Server Error."
I'm trying not to be superstitious, but either this is a profound theological statement on the impossibility of fully finding the infinite, or it says something important about the political wrangling at Annual Conference.
For instance, the justice/Jesus ratio for the United Methodist Church is 13,100/12,100
Peace: 11,500
Christ: 16,800
FGC Quakers: 105/97 (higher than I expected)
Peace: 204
Christ: 81
Unitarian Universalists: 99,100/14,400
Peace: 56,800
Christ: 10,200
Assemblies of God: 165/35,000
Peace: 717
Christ: 37,400
Anyway, I only started writing about this because I went to the Brethren website to do my justice/Jesus search, and the site crashed every time I searched for Jesus. Go see if I'm making a mistake somehow. When I search for 'justice,' I get 706 responses. When I search for Jesus, I get "Internal Server Error."
I'm trying not to be superstitious, but either this is a profound theological statement on the impossibility of fully finding the infinite, or it says something important about the political wrangling at Annual Conference.
Friday, April 28, 2006
explode!
This moment of not working on the New Testament final is in honor of Mr. Miro. I ran "faith explosion" through Google Images...
You, too, could own your own Faith Explosion brooch. Wouldn't that be fantastic? You should definitely buy one for everyone that you dislike, just to watch the remnants of their exploded faith wing through the cheery sky like shot skeet.
Or you could use this handy honeycomb Meta-Faith Explosion chart to remember some major religious symbols, none of which are likely made happy by being smashed onto the same chart. It's like the family reunion from hell, except that no party is allowed to leave their leg-scrunching Miatas while arguing over the existence of said hell. So it's even worse, since I'm pretty sure that hell is a long, awkward theological argument conducted inside a Miata.
I don't even know what a lot of these symbols refer to, but I'm really intrigued by the three parallel lines with the space in the middle. It looks like someone sat down with a ruler and made a rough draft of an interstate, and then it accidentally morphed into a major religious symbol of some sort.
Anyway, what are you waiting for?
You, too, could own your own Faith Explosion brooch. Wouldn't that be fantastic? You should definitely buy one for everyone that you dislike, just to watch the remnants of their exploded faith wing through the cheery sky like shot skeet.
Or you could use this handy honeycomb Meta-Faith Explosion chart to remember some major religious symbols, none of which are likely made happy by being smashed onto the same chart. It's like the family reunion from hell, except that no party is allowed to leave their leg-scrunching Miatas while arguing over the existence of said hell. So it's even worse, since I'm pretty sure that hell is a long, awkward theological argument conducted inside a Miata.
I don't even know what a lot of these symbols refer to, but I'm really intrigued by the three parallel lines with the space in the middle. It looks like someone sat down with a ruler and made a rough draft of an interstate, and then it accidentally morphed into a major religious symbol of some sort.
Anyway, what are you waiting for?
Thursday, April 27, 2006
distractions
Here's some neat stuff I've been reading, in lieu of doing schoolwork or finding a job:
Forgiveness is an inhuman quality
In praise of boredom
There are no athiests in foxholes...
The music of self-justification
All taken from Arts and Letters Daily, except for the one on athiests in foxholes.
Here's a baby named Urhines Kendall Icy Eight Special K. (h/t j-walkblog)
Life advice from Augustine, copied from the post on athiesm: There is another form of temptation, even more fraught with danger. This is the disease of curiosity...It is this which drives us to try and discover the secrets of nature, those secrets which are beyond our understanding, which can avail us of nothing and which man should not which to learn.
It sounds better from CCEL: In addition to this there is another form of temptation, more complex in its peril. For besides that concupiscence of the flesh which lieth in the gratification of all senses and pleasures, wherein its slaves who “are far from Thee perish,” there pertaineth to the soul, through the same senses of the body, a certain vain and curious longing, cloaked under the name of knowledge and learning, not of having pleasure in the flesh, but of making experiments through the flesh. This longing, since it originates in an appetite for knowledge, and the sight being the chief amongst the senses in the acquisition of knowledge, is called in divine language, “the lust of the eyes.” [..] Hence do we proceed to search out the secret powers of nature (which is beside our end), which to know profits not, and wherein men desire nothing but to know. Hence, too, with that same end of perverted knowledge we consult magical arts. Hence, again, even in religion itself, is God tempted, when signs and wonders are eagerly asked of Him,—not desired for any saving end, but to make trial only.
Curiosity can be a form of grasping, I guess. Augustine's a funny fellow.
The pictures are of the star nosed mole, one of my favorite animals. Some probably live in my backyard, but I've never seen one except in pictures. I think they look like flowers.
This is pretty much the coherence level that my brain has been at all day. It's a wonder I've managed to hold any conversations. Or maybe I haven't been successful at social interaction, and friends have just been kind to me.
In conclusion, I like star nosed moles.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
klingon
I had thought it was fun to read my hermeneutics assigment in the Wycliffe New Testament, but I've since discovered that I can procrastinate more efficiently while trying to read it in Klingon.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
ostriker
Two poems, both by Alicia Suskin Ostriker! What a deal!
From an article on Cobain:
And the second poem, Boil:
From an article on Cobain:
Passing that fiery tree—if only she could
Be making love,
Be making poetry,
Be exploding, be speeding through the universe
Like a photon, like a shower
Of yellow blazes—
She believes if she could only overtake
The riding rhythm of things,
Of her own electrons,
Then she would be at rest
If she could forget school,
Climb the tree,
Be the tree,
Burn like that.
She doesn’t know yet, how could she
That this same need
Is going to erupt every September
And that in 40 years the idea will strike her
From no apparent source,
In a Laundromat
Between a washer and a dryer,
Like one of those electric light bulbs
Lighting up near a character’s head in a comic strip—
There in that naked and soiled place
With its detergent machines,
Its speckled fluorescent lights,
Its lint piles broomed into corners as she fumbles for quarters
And dimes, she will start to chuckle and double over
Into the plastic baskets’
Mountain of wet
Bedsheets and bulky overalls—
Old lady! She’ll grin,
beguiled at herself,
Old lady! The desire to burn is already a burning! How about that!
And the second poem, Boil:
Boil over—it’s what the nerves do,
Watch them seethe when stimulated,
Murmurs the man at the stove
To the one at the fridge—
Watch that electric impulse that finally makes them
Fume and fizz at either
Frayed end. If you could grasp a bundle
Of nerves in your fist like a jumper cable, and sense that
Python’s writhe, or a garden hose when the pressure’s
High and it wilfully weaves about
Trying its best to get away from you—
You’d see how nothing is passive,
We’re all—I mean from our elephant sun, ejaculant
Great-grandfather, cascading down
To weightless
Unstoppable neutrinos
Leaving their silvery trace
In vacuum chambers, in
Effervescent lines, twisted
Madly in our madhouse jackets,
Rules, laws, which we are seething to break
Though to rupture them might be of course to die,
Or, possibly,
To change:
Boil, it’s what water
And everything else teaches.
explanations
I read and enjoyed this review of Why?, by Charles Tilly... during Theological Reflection. I couldn't formulate a coherent post last night, and my mind is too gooey now to write an interesting and accurate synopsis of the review, but you should check it out if you ever spend significant amounts of time wondering why two people (or groups of people) can't understand one another.
In short, though, the review (and probably Tilly as well) argues for four different categories of reason-giving: conventions, stories, codes (high level conventions), and technical accounts (high level stories).
The reviewer, Malcolm Gladwell, gives an example of a small boy named Timothy who wants to tell his mother a story about his brother, and hears in return a convention: Don't be a tattletale. The story form of reason-giving was truthful, for the boy, but inappropriate with regard to the power differences between himself and his mother. His father can tell his mother stories about his brother's poor behavior, but the boy cannot. Gladwell writes,
I'm excited about sermonizing on the dark underbelly of grace, but now I'm tempted to change my topic to Tattletaling Prophets.
In addition, you should read this article on vodka, which I also got from Arts & Letters Daily.
In short, though, the review (and probably Tilly as well) argues for four different categories of reason-giving: conventions, stories, codes (high level conventions), and technical accounts (high level stories).
The reviewer, Malcolm Gladwell, gives an example of a small boy named Timothy who wants to tell his mother a story about his brother, and hears in return a convention: Don't be a tattletale. The story form of reason-giving was truthful, for the boy, but inappropriate with regard to the power differences between himself and his mother. His father can tell his mother stories about his brother's poor behavior, but the boy cannot. Gladwell writes,
The fact that Timothy's mother accepts tattling from his father but rejects it from Timothy is not evidence of capriciousness; it just means that a husband's relationship to his wife gives him access to a reasongiving category that a son's role does not. The lesson "Don't be a tattletale," which may well be one of the hardest childhood lessons to learn, is that in the adult world it is sometimes more important to be appropriate than it is to be truthful.
I'm excited about sermonizing on the dark underbelly of grace, but now I'm tempted to change my topic to Tattletaling Prophets.
In addition, you should read this article on vodka, which I also got from Arts & Letters Daily.
How can we stop drinking with a climate like ours?Good question, Russians.
robespierre
Except for his spectacular absent-mindedness – he once served the soup onto the tablecloth, not noticing the absence of a bowl – he was like other people.
I never thought I'd feel such an affinity with Robespierre.
Unrelatedly, I would not have guessed the meaning of Wing-dings:
U.S. slang. A fit or spasm, esp. as simulated by a drug addict; freq. in phr. to throw a wing-ding. Also in weakened sense, a furious outburst.
Am I misremembering, or is this the name of the crazy Windows font?
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
procrastination
I've got a sermon to write. The working title is "The Dark Underbelly of Grace," but that's as far as I've gone with it. Here's what I've done instead:
I am Philip Melancthon.
You are Philip Melancthon, author of the Augsburg Confession and colleague of Luther at Wittenberg. You were the most prominent among the Lutheran theologians seeking reconciliation with the Catholic Church.
I'm also Jurgen Moltmann.
The problem of evil is central to your thought, and only a crucified God can show that God is not indifferent to human suffering. Christian discipleship means identifying with suffering but also anticipating the new creation of all things that God will bring about.
I came out high on Luther, Calvin, Anselm, Schleiermacher and Tillich, as well.
It's too beautiful outside to be productive- I'm going to go continue scoring a sunburn.
I am Philip Melancthon.
You are Philip Melancthon, author of the Augsburg Confession and colleague of Luther at Wittenberg. You were the most prominent among the Lutheran theologians seeking reconciliation with the Catholic Church.
I'm also Jurgen Moltmann.
The problem of evil is central to your thought, and only a crucified God can show that God is not indifferent to human suffering. Christian discipleship means identifying with suffering but also anticipating the new creation of all things that God will bring about.
I came out high on Luther, Calvin, Anselm, Schleiermacher and Tillich, as well.
It's too beautiful outside to be productive- I'm going to go continue scoring a sunburn.
Monday, April 17, 2006
fullness
On the Wednesday of Holy Week, I led worship and preached during the school chapel time.
On Maunday Thursday, I went to Love Feast at the Richmond Church of the Brethren.
On Good Friday, I attended service at Reid Presbyterian Church.
On Holy Saturday, I joined my friends in waiting worship and potlucking.
On Easter Sunday, I went to a sunrise service at White Branch Church of the Brethren, and then played at the regular Sunday service at Central Baptist.
Today, I still feel full. Liturgy gives me a buzz, and I think it will take me a while to sort out my various reflections and scrappy journal entries. It's so satisfying, though, to hear the same story told in widely varying contexts.
Word of the day: Apocatastasis. Discussion?
Also, I found this interesting. What's up with all the Quakers in Alaska? Is it just the relatively low Alaskan population rate, or is there a hard-working Alaska Yearly Meeting behind this?
On Maunday Thursday, I went to Love Feast at the Richmond Church of the Brethren.
On Good Friday, I attended service at Reid Presbyterian Church.
On Holy Saturday, I joined my friends in waiting worship and potlucking.
On Easter Sunday, I went to a sunrise service at White Branch Church of the Brethren, and then played at the regular Sunday service at Central Baptist.
Today, I still feel full. Liturgy gives me a buzz, and I think it will take me a while to sort out my various reflections and scrappy journal entries. It's so satisfying, though, to hear the same story told in widely varying contexts.
Word of the day: Apocatastasis. Discussion?
Also, I found this interesting. What's up with all the Quakers in Alaska? Is it just the relatively low Alaskan population rate, or is there a hard-working Alaska Yearly Meeting behind this?
Sunday, April 16, 2006
bunnies
My pa sent me this picture of my sisters in an Easter email. I'm pretty sure neither of them could shoot a bunny without crying, but they sure pose tough.
Rumor has it that ma wasn't thrilled about the egregious display of 2nd Amendment rights, but you didn't hear that from me.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Monday, April 10, 2006
stonework
My alma mater has been on a blogspot ball. The religion and philosophy department has a blog, so I've found myself thinking about this post from John Brittain:
Relatedly, I miss Dr. Brittain's sermons.
In other words, a group has started up a journal, too, called Stonework. It looks like it's all going to be published on blogspot... maybe I'm misunderstanding it. I didn't read the page very carefully, but I did find poetry from Linda Mills Woolsey, which makes me very happy.
This post brought to you by school pride, or something.
Have we created a new kind of “wisdom” of practicality and a different kind of “sign” of instant gratification that impairs our ability to deal with the intensely theological “word of the cross”?
Relatedly, I miss Dr. Brittain's sermons.
In other words, a group has started up a journal, too, called Stonework. It looks like it's all going to be published on blogspot... maybe I'm misunderstanding it. I didn't read the page very carefully, but I did find poetry from Linda Mills Woolsey, which makes me very happy.
This post brought to you by school pride, or something.
Friday, April 07, 2006
different query
If you'd perfer not to electronically discuss the potentially negative effects of electronic relationships, come up here. Tell me what works of literature you understand as essential to a complete, classically liberal education. If you were in charge of the education of a high school student, what would you be sure to assign?
Feel free to move beyond literature as such- there may be entire genres of education that you see as neglected, and this is the place to complain about it.
Appropos of nothing, Christianity Today has an article critical of Hannah Arendt.
poem
MOSSBAWN: SUNLIGHT
There was a sunlit absence.
The helmeted pump in the yard
heated its iron,
water honeyed
in the slung bucket
and the sun stood
like a griddle cooling
against the wall
of each long afternoon.
So, her hands scuffled
over the bakeboard,
the reddening stove
sent its plaque of heat
against her where she stood
in a floury apron
by the window.
Now she dusts the board
with a goose's wing,
now sits, broad-lapped,
with whitened nails
and measling shins:
here is a space
again, the scone rising
to the tick of two clocks.
And here is love
like a tinsmith's scoop
sunk past its gleam
in the meal-bin.
-- Seamus Heaney (1975)
There was a sunlit absence.
The helmeted pump in the yard
heated its iron,
water honeyed
in the slung bucket
and the sun stood
like a griddle cooling
against the wall
of each long afternoon.
So, her hands scuffled
over the bakeboard,
the reddening stove
sent its plaque of heat
against her where she stood
in a floury apron
by the window.
Now she dusts the board
with a goose's wing,
now sits, broad-lapped,
with whitened nails
and measling shins:
here is a space
again, the scone rising
to the tick of two clocks.
And here is love
like a tinsmith's scoop
sunk past its gleam
in the meal-bin.
-- Seamus Heaney (1975)
humph
Mr. Miro's curiosity has been stoked by this Beliefnet article by Johann Christoph Arnold (of Bruderhof fame) on the destruction of community by the Internet. Instead of talking to him about the article- he's sitting maybe 4ft away from me- I intend to post thoughts online and hope that he comments.
Of course, it's a bit ironic that one would publish written work in a popular online forum to complain about the influence of the internet on community. The tension is heightened by the Bruderhof's decision last December to delete their large, popular, resource-rich websites and leave up only contact information. Bring Back Bruderhof directs us to Plough Publishing for copies of the free e-books that were listed on Bruderhof.org, if you're interested in checking it out- I particularly recall appreciating Jane Tyson Clement's book of poetry.
This is all rather off track- my point is just that the Bruderhof in general and Arnold in particular hold an odd relationship with the internet already.
I'm not sure that Arnold has read Neil Postman (or maybe Malcolm Muggeridge), but my inner sociologist is quite the pessimist and inclined to agree with Arnold's overall thesis.
But, but, but... he's personifying technology, and this also makes my inner sociologist squeamish. "Technology" does not put anything anywhere- technology is not an active, willful force. Powerful, yes. Exerting power beyond human control- most techno-shamans would not even go that far. Even thinking of technological progress as an addiction is problematic for those of us with a free-will fetish.
Furthermore, my snooty opinion as someone with one year of experience as an educator is that the definition of the classics ought to be expanded far beyond "Aristotle, Novalis, Shakespeare and Dickens." This is where most of my disagreeable energy is directed toward Arnold, even though I feel like I ought to be more clearly (and cogently) disagreeable about his other ideas. What about the Bhagavad Gita, or Three Kingdoms, or The Brothers Karamazov, or Njal's Saga, or Rumi and Hafiz, or Don Quixote? Not that those books belong together, exactly, but they are all classics that I would want any children under my teaching to read.
Nothing against Aristotle, of course. It just infuriates me that people will take the time and trouble to educate their own kids (which I support fully, if the parents have the time and energy for the task) and then only feed them a small selection of Western classics. It's like going to Ryan's Steakhouse, just for the garlic mashed potatoes.
Someone else can comment on the community issue- I intend to storm about and enjoy my own prideful sense that I'm the only one who properly understands teaching literature, even though I have absolutely no education on the subject. Homegrown minds, and whatnot. Here's a query for you: how do you see technology intersecting with community in your own life? How is it helpful, and how is it harmful?
If you want something to get your mental juices flowing, read this post by Lance Mannion. It's what I would write if I knew how to write like that.
Of course, it's a bit ironic that one would publish written work in a popular online forum to complain about the influence of the internet on community. The tension is heightened by the Bruderhof's decision last December to delete their large, popular, resource-rich websites and leave up only contact information. Bring Back Bruderhof directs us to Plough Publishing for copies of the free e-books that were listed on Bruderhof.org, if you're interested in checking it out- I particularly recall appreciating Jane Tyson Clement's book of poetry.
This is all rather off track- my point is just that the Bruderhof in general and Arnold in particular hold an odd relationship with the internet already.
I'm not sure that Arnold has read Neil Postman (or maybe Malcolm Muggeridge), but my inner sociologist is quite the pessimist and inclined to agree with Arnold's overall thesis.
Technology is our Achilles heel, which in the end will be worse than any weapon of mass destruction. It will destroy us from within. This frightening trend can only be reversed if more and more citizens listen to their consciences and say, "Enough is enough." Technology puts the "I" in the center and ignores the fact that life is only worth living if "I" depend on my neighbor.
The classics were once an integral part of education. Just about every student read writers such as Aristotle, Novalis, Shakespeare and Dickens. Now, in schools in which every child has access to a computer, children are not even being taught the basic skills of life, such as how to express their thoughts and feelings in writing.
But, but, but... he's personifying technology, and this also makes my inner sociologist squeamish. "Technology" does not put anything anywhere- technology is not an active, willful force. Powerful, yes. Exerting power beyond human control- most techno-shamans would not even go that far. Even thinking of technological progress as an addiction is problematic for those of us with a free-will fetish.
Furthermore, my snooty opinion as someone with one year of experience as an educator is that the definition of the classics ought to be expanded far beyond "Aristotle, Novalis, Shakespeare and Dickens." This is where most of my disagreeable energy is directed toward Arnold, even though I feel like I ought to be more clearly (and cogently) disagreeable about his other ideas. What about the Bhagavad Gita, or Three Kingdoms, or The Brothers Karamazov, or Njal's Saga, or Rumi and Hafiz, or Don Quixote? Not that those books belong together, exactly, but they are all classics that I would want any children under my teaching to read.
Nothing against Aristotle, of course. It just infuriates me that people will take the time and trouble to educate their own kids (which I support fully, if the parents have the time and energy for the task) and then only feed them a small selection of Western classics. It's like going to Ryan's Steakhouse, just for the garlic mashed potatoes.
Someone else can comment on the community issue- I intend to storm about and enjoy my own prideful sense that I'm the only one who properly understands teaching literature, even though I have absolutely no education on the subject. Homegrown minds, and whatnot. Here's a query for you: how do you see technology intersecting with community in your own life? How is it helpful, and how is it harmful?
If you want something to get your mental juices flowing, read this post by Lance Mannion. It's what I would write if I knew how to write like that.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
pop psychology pigs
Some days just seem like good ones to tinker away. Start by drawing a pig and find out what your drawing of a pig says about you and your personality.
Mine says I'm a realist, direct, enjoy playing devil's advocate, neither fear nor avoid discussions, analytical, cautious, and distrustful. I'm secure, stubborn, and stick to my ideals. And I'm a good listener with a rotten sex life.
Who needs Myers-Briggs, with this pig test around?
Mine says I'm a realist, direct, enjoy playing devil's advocate, neither fear nor avoid discussions, analytical, cautious, and distrustful. I'm secure, stubborn, and stick to my ideals. And I'm a good listener with a rotten sex life.
Who needs Myers-Briggs, with this pig test around?
commentary
Threats seem to be abounding. First, Brian insinuated that he might register PiecesOfFlairSucks.com, then Matt fires back with the idea of registering PizzaKingWatchSucks.com.
I just left worship, and what came up for me in the silence was this master plan: Matt should pay Brian the nickel and register PizzaKingWatchSucks.com, just for the fun of running a derivative website critiquing another website that critiques a marquee sign.
Then, some postmodern literature scholar should write their PhD dissertation on PizzaKingWatchSucks.com. An excerpt of this dissertation should be available online, so that we can find it during desperate, last minute research for overdue papers and cite it in our bibliographies.
I'm pretty sure we'd win a Nobel Lit prize, collectively.
I just left worship, and what came up for me in the silence was this master plan: Matt should pay Brian the nickel and register PizzaKingWatchSucks.com, just for the fun of running a derivative website critiquing another website that critiques a marquee sign.
Then, some postmodern literature scholar should write their PhD dissertation on PizzaKingWatchSucks.com. An excerpt of this dissertation should be available online, so that we can find it during desperate, last minute research for overdue papers and cite it in our bibliographies.
I'm pretty sure we'd win a Nobel Lit prize, collectively.
Monday, April 03, 2006
Sunday, April 02, 2006
country wisdom
Every now and then, I hit the seek button on my truck radio and find a good sappy song to mock. Not a few of those mockery attempts end in embarrassment as I either:
a) am reminded by fellow drivers that my windows are down, or
b) slowly realize that this sappy song is about Jesus. Oops.
The latter happened on my way to our non-singing choir rehearsal, so I hit the seek button again. Across the airwaves came this lovely morsel of country wisdom, which I thought warranted sharing:
If you're going through hell
Keep on going, don't slow down
If you're scared, don't show it
You might get out
Before the devil even knows you're there
This song seems to describe a disturbingly wide swath of my seminary experience, minus the requisite Jim Bean reference:
Ask directions from a genie
In a bottle of Jim Beam
And she lies to you
That's when you learn the truth
Maybe that's what I'm missing. I lived with a crazy lady named Evelyn for a few weeks one summer, and she use to give me Jack'n'Cokes like these, only she taught me to mix them 50/50. I didn't have the heart to tell her how much I dislike drinking soda, that and arguing with crazy people is generally a bad idea.
Come to think of it, Jack has the unfortunate aftertaste of ass. Probably it wasn't just the soda that made those drinks so terrible.
a) am reminded by fellow drivers that my windows are down, or
b) slowly realize that this sappy song is about Jesus. Oops.
The latter happened on my way to our non-singing choir rehearsal, so I hit the seek button again. Across the airwaves came this lovely morsel of country wisdom, which I thought warranted sharing:
If you're going through hell
Keep on going, don't slow down
If you're scared, don't show it
You might get out
Before the devil even knows you're there
This song seems to describe a disturbingly wide swath of my seminary experience, minus the requisite Jim Bean reference:
Ask directions from a genie
In a bottle of Jim Beam
And she lies to you
That's when you learn the truth
Maybe that's what I'm missing. I lived with a crazy lady named Evelyn for a few weeks one summer, and she use to give me Jack'n'Cokes like these, only she taught me to mix them 50/50. I didn't have the heart to tell her how much I dislike drinking soda, that and arguing with crazy people is generally a bad idea.
Come to think of it, Jack has the unfortunate aftertaste of ass. Probably it wasn't just the soda that made those drinks so terrible.
Monday, March 27, 2006
a poem a day...ish
If you're not in the mood for poetry, read my previous post. It's much funnier.
Batter my heart, three-personed God; for You
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an ursurped town, to another due,
Labor to admit You, but O, to no end;
Reason, Your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captivated, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be love fain,
But I am bethrothed unto Your enemy.
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again;
Take me to You, imprison me, for I,
Except You enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except You ravish me.
-John Donne
Discuss.
Batter my heart, three-personed God; for You
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an ursurped town, to another due,
Labor to admit You, but O, to no end;
Reason, Your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captivated, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be love fain,
But I am bethrothed unto Your enemy.
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again;
Take me to You, imprison me, for I,
Except You enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except You ravish me.
-John Donne
Discuss.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
remembering the power
Pastor Sam was sick this morning. Not out sick, exactly, but 'in sick', spreading germs the way that stubborn folks do when they don't want to stay home. He was wheezing, pale, unsteady, and even more distracted than usual. I enjoy his preaching, but speaking to him before the service made me wish he'd stayed home.
Lee-Ann, who leads the singing, was sick too, but she wanted to add songs to the service so that Sam wouldn't have to preach for so long. Obliging pianist that I am, I suggested What Wonderous Love Is This, which I had already prepared for the prelude. (Low range, which is great for sick songleaders... and it's a Lenten song, which made me feel delightfully subversive among the Baptists.) Lee-Ann agreed, and also added O God Our Help In Ages Past. I agreed, chuckling to myself that God has indeed been the help of liturgical leaders across the ages.
So, we have three hymns in a row: What Wonderous Love Is This, Day By Day, and O God Our Help In Ages Past. Had I thought this though, I might have suggested pausing for prayer and reflection between the hymns, so that the songleader wouldn't have to sing so much at a time. This pianist's reelection motto: A Thousand Points of Hindsight.
Halfway through Day By Day, Lee-Ann's voice is giving out. Pastor Sam, conserving energy for the sermon by sitting through the singing, starts singing loudly to cover for her, but then has to duck out the side door for an inconvenient coughing fit. By the time we get to O God Our Help In Ages Past, Lee-Ann has quit singing entirely and I'm playing accompianment for a confused, warbling congregation; sheep without a shepherd.
Wonderful time for me to realize that I don't know how to play O God Our Help In Ages Past, indeed. I simplified the bass line some to emphazise the melody, and was doing better on the second verse, when my hymnal started to swing closed. I should have asked Lee-Ann to adjust my hymnal, since she wasn't singing, but instead I tried to hold it open with my nose. Mercifully, Lee-Ann cut straight to the sixth verse, so we didn't have to sing the whole song.
The text for Pastor Sam's sermon: But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Cor. 12:9, 10)
I'm glad he didn't preach on to verse 11, with I have made a fool of myself, but you drove me to it. That's all the God-sponsored coincidence I can handle.
Lee-Ann, who leads the singing, was sick too, but she wanted to add songs to the service so that Sam wouldn't have to preach for so long. Obliging pianist that I am, I suggested What Wonderous Love Is This, which I had already prepared for the prelude. (Low range, which is great for sick songleaders... and it's a Lenten song, which made me feel delightfully subversive among the Baptists.) Lee-Ann agreed, and also added O God Our Help In Ages Past. I agreed, chuckling to myself that God has indeed been the help of liturgical leaders across the ages.
So, we have three hymns in a row: What Wonderous Love Is This, Day By Day, and O God Our Help In Ages Past. Had I thought this though, I might have suggested pausing for prayer and reflection between the hymns, so that the songleader wouldn't have to sing so much at a time. This pianist's reelection motto: A Thousand Points of Hindsight.
Halfway through Day By Day, Lee-Ann's voice is giving out. Pastor Sam, conserving energy for the sermon by sitting through the singing, starts singing loudly to cover for her, but then has to duck out the side door for an inconvenient coughing fit. By the time we get to O God Our Help In Ages Past, Lee-Ann has quit singing entirely and I'm playing accompianment for a confused, warbling congregation; sheep without a shepherd.
Wonderful time for me to realize that I don't know how to play O God Our Help In Ages Past, indeed. I simplified the bass line some to emphazise the melody, and was doing better on the second verse, when my hymnal started to swing closed. I should have asked Lee-Ann to adjust my hymnal, since she wasn't singing, but instead I tried to hold it open with my nose. Mercifully, Lee-Ann cut straight to the sixth verse, so we didn't have to sing the whole song.
The text for Pastor Sam's sermon: But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Cor. 12:9, 10)
I'm glad he didn't preach on to verse 11, with I have made a fool of myself, but you drove me to it. That's all the God-sponsored coincidence I can handle.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
A poem a day
Via Hugo, by Margaret Kaufman:
Lot's Wife
They had no time—the just man
hurried across the bridge,
followed God’s magistrate
along the black ridge.
His grieving wife lagged behind
as if she had no will,
arms heavy with useless things,
heart heavier still.
She couldn’t recall if she’d shut the door,
turned off the iron; worse guilt,
she’d left behind the baby pictures,
her mother’s ring, her wedding quilt.
One arm raised as if to gather
her whole life in that embrace,
tears blurring the view,
without much thought she turned her face,
became what she had shed. Who grieves
for this nameless woman, Lot’s reflective wife?
I grieve.
I know holding on can cost a life.
Lot's Wife
They had no time—the just man
hurried across the bridge,
followed God’s magistrate
along the black ridge.
His grieving wife lagged behind
as if she had no will,
arms heavy with useless things,
heart heavier still.
She couldn’t recall if she’d shut the door,
turned off the iron; worse guilt,
she’d left behind the baby pictures,
her mother’s ring, her wedding quilt.
One arm raised as if to gather
her whole life in that embrace,
tears blurring the view,
without much thought she turned her face,
became what she had shed. Who grieves
for this nameless woman, Lot’s reflective wife?
I grieve.
I know holding on can cost a life.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
preachin'
My first in-class sermon for my preaching class will be next Tuesday. The texts for the sermons are assigned by the professors, and I got Romans 13:1-7...
I'm considering preaching out of the Wycliffe New Testament, which reads in part:
"Against-standeth power." I just like the way that sounds, but I still want more wiggle room to discern when a governmental exercise of authority is in line with the ordinance of God, rather than simply assuming that against-standing it will lead to damnation. Otherwise, it seems that Paul is wrong- rulers certainly can be a cause for fear over good behavior.
The preceeding context of Romans 13:1-7 lends an intriguing light:
"As far as it depends on you..." I don't yet see how to square that idea with Romans 13:1-7. Thoughts? Comments? Hail Marys?
Every person is to be in subjection to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those which exist are established by God. Therefore whoever resists authority has opposed the ordinance of God; and they who have opposed will receive condemnation upon themselves. For rulers are not a cause of fear for good behavior, but for evil. Do you want to have no fear of authority? Do what is good and you will have praise from the same; for it is a minister of God to you for good. But if you do what is evil, be afraid; for it does not bear the sword for nothing; for it is a minister of God, an avenger who brings wrath on the one who practices evil. Therefore it is necessary to be in subjection, not only because of wrath, but also for conscience' sake. For because of this you also pay taxes, for rulers are servants of God, devoting themselves to this very thing. Render to all what is due them: tax to whom tax is due; custom to whom custom; fear to whom fear; honor to whom honor.
I'm considering preaching out of the Wycliffe New Testament, which reads in part:
Therefore he that against-standeth power, against-standeth the ordinance of God; and they that against-stand, get to themselves damnation. For princes be not to the dread of good work, but of evil. But wilt thou, that thou dread not power? Do thou good thing, and thou shalt have praising of it for he is the minister of God to thee into good. But if thou doest evil, dread thou; for not without cause he beareth the sword, for he is the minister of God, venger into wrath to him that doeth evil.
"Against-standeth power." I just like the way that sounds, but I still want more wiggle room to discern when a governmental exercise of authority is in line with the ordinance of God, rather than simply assuming that against-standing it will lead to damnation. Otherwise, it seems that Paul is wrong- rulers certainly can be a cause for fear over good behavior.
The preceeding context of Romans 13:1-7 lends an intriguing light:
Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everybody. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God's wrath, for it is written: "It is mine to avenge; I will repay,"says the Lord. On the contrary:
"If your enemy is hungry, feed him;
if he is thirsty, give him something to drink.
In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head."
Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.
"As far as it depends on you..." I don't yet see how to square that idea with Romans 13:1-7. Thoughts? Comments? Hail Marys?
Sunday, March 19, 2006
big thoughts
It's a sunshiny, depressing day.
Which literature classic are you?
Umberto Eco: The Name of the Rose. You are a mystery novel dealing with theology, especially with catholic vs liberal issues. You search wisdom and knowledge endlessly, feeling that learning is essential in life.
Take this quiz!
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I really should read this book over break.
Which literature classic are you?
Umberto Eco: The Name of the Rose. You are a mystery novel dealing with theology, especially with catholic vs liberal issues. You search wisdom and knowledge endlessly, feeling that learning is essential in life.
Take this quiz!
Quizilla |
Join
| Make A Quiz | More Quizzes | Grab Code
I really should read this book over break.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
pacifism
I've thought and thought about this, but graham has the clearest distinction between pacifism and a committment to nonviolence that I've read recently:
It's not about not fighting- it's about putting on the armor of God and preparing for battle. This is a sort of nonviolence that I could get behind.
Pacifism, particularly in anabaptist circles, can simply be a way to avoid violence. Yet, nonviolent resistance - which is what Christ teaches us and is at the heart of our faith - looks Violence in the eye and squares up for battle.
It's not about not fighting- it's about putting on the armor of God and preparing for battle. This is a sort of nonviolence that I could get behind.
grandmothers
Lovely post from pastordan:
He's writing in response to a recent stir-up that I won't bother to describe, but The Green Knight has details if you're interested.
...when people tell me that I am stupid or insane for believing in God, they're not just insulting me. They're insulting my sainted dead grandmother. Both of them, in fact. And my dead grandfather, though he was considerably more difficult to get along with.
And not just that: they're insulting the grandmothers (and grandfathers) I preach to Sunday mornings in a tiny Baptist church in tiny Mahanoy City, Pennsylvania, forty-five minutes from the nearest small-to-middling nowhere. They're not the most progressive folks, though they might surprise you, and most of them wouldn't know an enlightenment ideal from a turnip. But they're good, solid people, salt of the earth folks who try to be generous, tolerant, and fair...
He's writing in response to a recent stir-up that I won't bother to describe, but The Green Knight has details if you're interested.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
postmodern intelligensia
Randomly generate postmodern pseudoanalysis here. They'll even give you a permanent link, in case you want to officially cite the paper somewhere.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
sapir-whorf?
New Scientist is a registration required magazine, but here's a quote from their teaser:
Sounds like a reasonable alternative to our Darwinism/creationism nonsense. I'm not going to pay for the article in order to read it, although it looks good, but I'm definitely intrigued by the whole idea. From The Globe and Mail:
The lack of ability of Pirahã men to learn algebra seems generally in line with the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, although there's always a question of motivation in such artificial tests. The Economist says yea. Others probably don't, but I've put too much work into this already. Let me know if you happen across the actual article, and I'll link to it.
They've no myths, numbers or colours and few words for past or present - no wonder the Pirahã people defy our most cherished ideas about language
"How was your world created?" asks the young anthropologist in Portuguese. He awaits the translation into Pirahã. "The world is created," replies one of the assembled men in his own language. "Tell me how your god made all this?" the anthropologist presses on. "All things are made," comes the answer.
Sounds like a reasonable alternative to our Darwinism/creationism nonsense. I'm not going to pay for the article in order to read it, although it looks good, but I'm definitely intrigued by the whole idea. From The Globe and Mail:
They have no written language, and no collective memory going back more than two generations. They don't sleep for more than two hours at a time during the night or day[...] They communicate almost as much by singing, whistling and humming as by normal speech[...] They do not believe that outsiders understand their language even after they have just carried on conversations with them[...]
"Why they have been resistant to adopting Western number systems is beyond me," Ray Jackendoff of Brandeis University, a past president of the Linguistic Society of America, said in an interview.
The lack of ability of Pirahã men to learn algebra seems generally in line with the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, although there's always a question of motivation in such artificial tests. The Economist says yea. Others probably don't, but I've put too much work into this already. Let me know if you happen across the actual article, and I'll link to it.
Friday, March 10, 2006
german words
The theme of the week at A.Word.A.Day is German words, one of which I've decided to share:
weltschmerz (VELT-shmerts) n., World weariness; pessimism, apathy, or sadness felt at the difference between physical reality and the ideal state.
Plato would have loved German. As would Rapture enthusiasts, come to think of it. So, Plato and a televangelist walk into a bar... and then what?
weltschmerz (VELT-shmerts) n., World weariness; pessimism, apathy, or sadness felt at the difference between physical reality and the ideal state.
Plato would have loved German. As would Rapture enthusiasts, come to think of it. So, Plato and a televangelist walk into a bar... and then what?
advice to venezuela
From the annals for pistachio related ponderings:
Read it in context, for all the good it'll do ya.
Venezuela should take a leaf out of my book: when I fancy a pistachio, I just go right ahead and eat one. If Bush doesn’t like it, he can fuck off.
Read it in context, for all the good it'll do ya.
Friday, February 24, 2006
nonhypothetical ethics story
Via Crooked Timber, here's an ethics story for ya:
Kieran has an interesting point about the initial contact making the following bad faith seem more reprehensible... would the woman who didn't intend to return the camera have been more ethically justified not to call in the first place?
The story ends well; the lady gets her camera back.
I got a call from an excited park ranger in Hawaii that "a nice Canadian couple reported that they found your camera!" She gave me their name and number, and I eagerly called to reclaim my camera.
"Hello," I said, when I reached the woman who had reported the camera found, "I got your number from the park ranger, it seems you have my camera?"
We discussed the specifics of the camera, the brown pouch it was in, the spare battery and memory card, the yellow rubberband around the camera. It was clear it was my camera, and I was thrilled.
"Well," she said, "we have a bit of a situation. You see, my nine year old son found your camera, and we wanted to show him to do the right thing, so we called, but now he's been using it for a week and he really loves it and we can't bear to take it from him."
I listened, not sure where she was going with this.
"And he was recently diagnosed with diabetes, and he's now convinced he has bad luck, and finding the camera was good luck, and so we can't tell him that he has to give it up. Also we had to spend a lot of money to get a charger and a memory card."
It started to dawn on me that she had no intention of returning the camera.
"We'd be happy to return your photographs..."
I was incredulous. "This is an expensive camera, you know."
"Oh, we know, we looked it up."
"I was hoping to offer a reward for it, but I was also hoping to get my camera back."
Silence. It is now clear I will never see the camera again. I'm shocked at what seems like an utter moral failure on her part, despite her claim to want to "do the right thing."
"Ok," I say. "Why don't you send me my memory cards, and, say, $50 and we'll call it even."
I give her my address.
I don't hear from her for nearly two weeks. Friends suggest filing a police report.
Finally, I get a package in the mail.
"Enclosed are some CDs with your images on them. We need the memory cards to operate the camera properly."
I call, furious. "I was shocked to get your package today. Our agreement was that you were to send me my memory cards, not that you would keep an additional $120 worth of my property on top of the valuable camera you already chose not to return."
"You're lucky we sent you anything at all. Most people wouldn't do that." We go back and forth a bit more. She eventually hangs up on me. I call the police department in her town (in Canada) but they tell me that it's a U.S. issue, since that's where the property was lost.
I am out $500 and some measure of faith in humanity.
Kieran has an interesting point about the initial contact making the following bad faith seem more reprehensible... would the woman who didn't intend to return the camera have been more ethically justified not to call in the first place?
The story ends well; the lady gets her camera back.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
garden tending
Feminist Mormon Housewives is one of my favorite reads, although I don't think I've ever left a comment. I'm not Mormon, and I'm not a housewife, but I hope that reading their blog is more theological stretching than sociological voyeurism for me. This post by Artemis on Eve and Lilith has had me thinking about Genesis and gender construction again, so I decided to share:
I enjoyed the versions of this conversation that I had with LDSers during the summer I spent worshipping with them. This reimagining of Eve as a strong woman who made a courageous moral choice for the sake of all humanity appeals to my feminism. The women I know and respect are no more likely to neglect righteousness than the men I know and respect, so it seems unfair to lay the moral responsibility for 'the fall' at Eve's feet. I don't agree that the traditional Adam and Eve story is weighted against Eve, necessarially, but the LDS version of the story takes the guesswork out of the interpretation.
The LDS version of the tree of knowledge of good and evil is a comforting one for me, as a feminist, and therein I think it holds a danger for me. I'm more than a set of gendered expectations; I'm a whole person, and act as such across a field of moral choices. While it rankles me to hear founding stories told as though the responsibility for evil in the world lies with a stupid woman who didn't obey the law, I'm also uncomfortable with a version of the story that seems to remove the very real matter human participation in evil from both human characters.
Without getting into bizarre ideas of original sin, people really do have a tendency to break the commandments of God simply for the sake of doing so. I can witness to such times in my own life; I know the good, and I choose the evil for no better reason than rebellion. Choosing the evil feels freeing, in the short term, like I'm suddenly powerful, charting my own course across the sea of moral thinking.
That's a vapid metaphor, and I won't expand it with thought on what happens when the storms come, and the inevitable lighthouse that sneaks into such stories. Perhaps this is a better (and more relevant) image for the sense of power that comes with choosing evil: I am queen of my own garden. The plants and animals are mine to control, instead of mine to tend. When I rebel, as Adam and Eve do in the traditional story, I lose my sense of submission to God and a rightful place within an equality of creation.
I don't see how the LDS version of the story addresses this concern, but perhaps I haven't spent enough time with it. I'd love to have a more woman-affirming story, but a story that doesn't address head-on the human willingness to rebel for the sake of rebellion doesn't seem adequate. One of the things I've learned most clearly from feminist study is an awareness of power hierarchies as the root of violence in the world, and I can't seem to stand within the LDS story and see it as a founding narrative for a world that contains so much violence over power.
On the bright side, though, I'm all about the Lilith stories. And, Artemis is a much better writer than me, so go read her post.
While Wikipedia is quite explicit that the Lilith/Adam marriage story is at the end of the myth’s evolution, I want to turn things around a bit and suggest that in terms of our collective psyche, Lilith and Eve represent two halves of the feminine falsely separated into opposites–one powerful, confident and independent, the other submissive and compliant. Let’s say for the sake of argument, that the traditional patriarchal cultures that have dominated most of history have, either consciously or unconsciously, promoted this split to make sure they can keep control over women, i.e., teach the message that an uppity, independent, and egalitarian-minded woman is Bad and a submissive, “weaker”, and obediant woman is Good. If women believe this, women will do what men want because it is the ‘natural’ or ‘good’ order of life.
Instead, what if we unify the personalities/personaes of Eve and Lilith? The true companion of a complete Adam and his masculinity is a complete woman and her femininity (Evelith?), who is both powerful and good, nurturing and strong, independent and committed. The Mother of All.
Really, our LDS conception of Eve is evolving this direction anyway. She’s no longer the one who botched things for the rest of us, she’s a hero who made a brave, scary, and righteous choice (i.e., God wanted her & Adam & the rest of us to experience mortality, it was his will that they transgress one law to keep another, making her decisions a transgression, not a sin, sin being to knowingly act against the will of God). Now, it’s obvious that the ‘power’ issue is currently in flux among the Saints because we’re always back-and-forthing about how women and men are equal, but we (instituationally and culturally) still cling to a strong directive of men being the power wielders–they being the ones with the priesthood and presiding authority (though after Elder Oaks’ conference talk last fall, I’m not sure what that really means anymore).
I enjoyed the versions of this conversation that I had with LDSers during the summer I spent worshipping with them. This reimagining of Eve as a strong woman who made a courageous moral choice for the sake of all humanity appeals to my feminism. The women I know and respect are no more likely to neglect righteousness than the men I know and respect, so it seems unfair to lay the moral responsibility for 'the fall' at Eve's feet. I don't agree that the traditional Adam and Eve story is weighted against Eve, necessarially, but the LDS version of the story takes the guesswork out of the interpretation.
The LDS version of the tree of knowledge of good and evil is a comforting one for me, as a feminist, and therein I think it holds a danger for me. I'm more than a set of gendered expectations; I'm a whole person, and act as such across a field of moral choices. While it rankles me to hear founding stories told as though the responsibility for evil in the world lies with a stupid woman who didn't obey the law, I'm also uncomfortable with a version of the story that seems to remove the very real matter human participation in evil from both human characters.
Without getting into bizarre ideas of original sin, people really do have a tendency to break the commandments of God simply for the sake of doing so. I can witness to such times in my own life; I know the good, and I choose the evil for no better reason than rebellion. Choosing the evil feels freeing, in the short term, like I'm suddenly powerful, charting my own course across the sea of moral thinking.
That's a vapid metaphor, and I won't expand it with thought on what happens when the storms come, and the inevitable lighthouse that sneaks into such stories. Perhaps this is a better (and more relevant) image for the sense of power that comes with choosing evil: I am queen of my own garden. The plants and animals are mine to control, instead of mine to tend. When I rebel, as Adam and Eve do in the traditional story, I lose my sense of submission to God and a rightful place within an equality of creation.
I don't see how the LDS version of the story addresses this concern, but perhaps I haven't spent enough time with it. I'd love to have a more woman-affirming story, but a story that doesn't address head-on the human willingness to rebel for the sake of rebellion doesn't seem adequate. One of the things I've learned most clearly from feminist study is an awareness of power hierarchies as the root of violence in the world, and I can't seem to stand within the LDS story and see it as a founding narrative for a world that contains so much violence over power.
On the bright side, though, I'm all about the Lilith stories. And, Artemis is a much better writer than me, so go read her post.
encouraging words
...or not.
Awesome.
What do the White House Privacy and Civil Liberties Oversight Board and the Vice President's Terrorism Task Force have in common?
Neither believes in holding meetings. Ever.
Awesome.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
logic lesson
Why are we in Iraq, anyway?
Totally.
Q. What if we can’t kill all the terrorists in Iraq?
A. Then we’ll invade somewhere else and trick ‘em into attacking us there – only this time it’ll be someplace really far away where they’ll get stuck, like the ocean or the moon!
Q. I would totally watch Operation: Lunar Justice live on CNN!
A. Wolf Blitzer in a space helmet… it writes itself!
Totally.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
happy valentine's day
Make a homemade card for your honey with explosive ink:
If that makes you nervous about the card you just got, then scroll down to read about the cannabis cough cure. (Cough, cough.)
A very unusual ink-jet printer cartridge, containing explosive ink, has been patented by Qinetiq, the commercial spin-off of the British Ministry of Defence.The ink is a mixture of very fine aluminium particles, each 1 micrometre in diameter, particles of copper oxide 5 micrometres wide, epoxy varnish and alcohol. The ink is stable in liquid form, making it safe to print onto conventional paper, but forms an explosive fuse once dry.
If that makes you nervous about the card you just got, then scroll down to read about the cannabis cough cure. (Cough, cough.)
Friday, February 10, 2006
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