Hallelujah!
Congratulations, ladies and gentlemen. You have successfully survived [or at least I hope you have] another semester of chapel. Good work, everyone. Really, nice job.
And in a surprising turn of events, the last chapel, or at the least the first half of it, wasn't completely worthless.
Props to Whiteside and Co. for the music. I've always wondered what it might sound like if John Mayer covered "O Holy Night."
More props to Rizkalla for trying to pass off the plot of Home Alone as her own Christmas story. $5 says the enrollment in her classes doubles next semester. [Apparently not all business professors are boring as hell. . . .]
Instead of wasting my energy commenting on His Holiness' waste of our time [Pay attention. Got it. Thanks, Brad.], I thought I'd take a few moments to reflect on the semester.
September 2nd, 2008: the day that someone actually started trying to do something about the problems with chapel instead of just muttering about them under their breath.
December 10, 2008: the day that the same person realized that, no matter how hard they try, attempting to effect change in policy and practice at SNU may be futile.
And why? Why might trying to do something about the problems here at SNU be futile? Well, for one because the watershed majority of students at SNU don't give a shit about trying to do anything. About anything. [So why should we expect the administration to act when we refuse to?] Sure, you'll laugh at my jokes about His Holiness and the Maldonator, but after reading my posts, rather than doing anything about chapel, you turn around and start playing Gears 2.
Evidence: I just went to my Facebook group, Flying in Circles, to gather some information about the discussion board threads I have started throughout the semester. Unfortunately, information about the first three threads was unavailable, because of inactivity. However, if we take the six threads about which information is available as representative of all nine, here's what we find:
The average number of posts per thread is 6.33.
The lowest number of posts on a thread is 0.
The highest number of posts on a thread is 18. [And, go figure, it was on the thread entitled, "Sex Talk." Typical.]
The average number of people commenting on each thread is 2.83.
The lowest number of people commenting on a thread is 0.
The highest number of people commenting on a thread is 7.
The average number of comments per blog post is 6.67.
The lowest number of comments on a blog post is 1.
The highest number of comments on a blog post is 17.
[Keep in mind that these last three statistics include my comments and multiple comments by one person.]
Unfortunately, I cannot give accurate statistics regarding the number of Facebook messages I have received, as my original profile was deleted halfway through the semester, so you'll just have to believe me when I report that most of the messages I received said something like, "Hey, who are you?" or, "Stop being such a pussy and reveal your identity." Very substantive, indeed.
I received one e-mail from a student this semester.
SNU is a school of how many students? Roughly 2,000? How many students have to attend chapel? Roughly half of that? And the best you can do is 6.something posts/comments per thread or blog post?! Pathetic. Fucking pathetic. [Mario and Luigi Platter, you two are excused from being classified as "pathetic fuckheads" because, whether you agreed with me or not, at least you participated. Mayo, Shane, Josh, Nikki, Michelson: same goes for you.]
Come on people. We all complain about chapel. We all have problems with the way certain things are done here at SNU, but it's really rather embarrassing to discover that when someone actually tries to do some good by providing an open forum for discussion and plenty of material to discuss, you balk at the opportunity afforded you.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know life is sooooooo much easier when you don't have to think for yourself and someone else just tells you what to do, but is that the kind of life you want to lead? I really don't feel like investigating the finer points of this issue, because I know the majority of you don't fucking care. The result would probably cause me to need a perscription for Prozac anyway.
In summation: I hope you have enjoyed this semester. I hope you found my posts entertaining. I hope you enjoyed the movie clips and funny pictures. I hope you're all happy knowing that you attend a school full of apathetic anti-intellectuals who refuse to engage themselves and others regarding issues that could be of benefit to the entire campus when given the chance.
No tears, SNU, just because I'm disappointed doesn't mean I won't be back. Come January 13th I shall return, controversial, crude, and challenging as ever. Maybe by that time some of you will be in the mood for intelligent discussion.
On a lighter note: Happy Holidays, and everybody take some rubbers.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Snot rocket
"Oh my God, it's so big!" [That's what she said.]
Back in the good old days, when I was a youngster, we had to walk to chapel through blinding snowstorms, uphill both ways, with no shoes! And chapel was three days a week, and four hours long, and the Gresh spoke every day!
Aren't you looking forward to torturing your grandchildren with stories like that?
Come one, come all to chapel. For it is the season of Advent. And I, your venerable leader, His Holiness the Strawn, do not know the proper procedure for lighting Advent candles, and I need you all to come watch me ignore this long-standing tradition.
Great work there, Brad. Really great. We all know how excited you are about celebrating the winter solstice festival wrapped up and tagged as "Christmas," but it's not like the babe is going to be born again. . . .
And what better way to herald the coming of the Christmas season than to hear the Maldonator and company sing several poorly rearranged Christmas carols? Oh, holy Maldonator, your voice melts the ice around my cold, withering heart. . . .
On the upside, Jairo's Johnmayerstagefacitosis seems to be in remission; though his guitar player appears to be suffering from an aggressive case of Overratedrockstarimpersonatitis. Maybe next time Mr. Allmon will play something that actually fits what the rest of the band doing.
I would now like to introduce our speaker for today. You should know that we passed up applicants with Ph.D's and Ed.D's to get her, so you know she's good. . . .
"Good morning, everyone. I have a very important message for you this morning."
Yeah, well, we've heard that before. How about you leave that judgment up to us, Candle Mistress.
"You see, this world is like a dorm room. We're here for a little while, but it's not our home."
Oh come on. . . . I really thought we had moved past all this "now-and-not-yet-kingdom" bullshit. Apparently not.
Problem #1: This world is our home, at least for eighty years or so. Last time I checked, that's slightly more than a "little while." Now, if you want to spend your eighty years desparately trying to remain "uncomfortable" in your body while you wait for Jesus to come cruising back in a low-rider with twenty-fours, by all means, go right ahead. Just don't try and tell me that I need to spend all my time not enjoying myself and staring at the sky.
Problem #2: If the Christian ambition is to try and corral as many people as possible into God's holy fishing net, then a certain amount of engagement with the world is necessary. Sure, you've heard it said that if you live out your "Christian walk" in front of non-believers, they will get curious and ask you what makes you so different, but that's bullshit. If you're a male what they're really thinking is, "Where the fuck is that guy's masculinity?" And if you're a female what they're really thinking is, "Wow, I'd really like to date her, but the only thing she'd ever thump is a Bible."
Problem #3: If you, as a Christian, were to start a conversation with someone by saying, "Hi. Do you have a minute? You do? Would you mind if I told you about my 'true home?'" you'd get laughed at, or searched for cyanide punch, probably repelling the individual further away from Christianity than they were before you opened your gaping void of a mouth. [That is, of course, assuming that the heathen God had "placed on your heart" had a brain.]
Problem #4: The notion that "this world is not our home" has dramatic consequences for the worldviews of those who buy into it. What about the Green movement and caring for the environment? Why should Christians care if the polar ice caps melt and carbon emissions destroy our atmosphere? They won't be around to see it happen, so why bother? And what about political struggles? I'm all for the separation of church and state, but individuals within the church are also members of a national community with very real, pertinent concerns that need to be addressed. Why should Christians care if Russia starts another Cold War or North Korea decides to lauch a tactical nuclear missle at the United States? According to them there's a better "life" ahead, so why bother? You get the point.
Problem #5: The "this is not our home" mindset leads to a certain amount of solipsism and an irreverence for the incredible accomplishments of our species. You like to be able to go to the doctor when you get sick, but you're not a part of this world. You'll probably go see The Dark Knight again when it re-releases in theatres in mid-January, but you're not a part of this world. You were really proud when we put a rover on Mars earlier this year, but you're not a part of this world. You're reading this post on a computer, while texting your BFF, with 808s and Heartbreak playing in the background, but you're not a part of this world.
Now, before all you upstart theology majors start sending me e-mails and quoting scripture about "bringing the Kingdom of God to earth," hear this. I do not have a problem with the Christian anticipation of going to heaven. What I do have a problem with is the other-worldly focus embedded in the idea that "this world is not our home."
If you believe that God put you here, then it is your home. And whatever good intentions you may have about bringing the "Kingdom of God" to Earth, the reality is that there are a great number of people within the Christian religion who couldn't care less about anything other than their living a comfortable life until the day that Jesus comes back to carry them away. Their concern is for themselves, and themselves only. The idea that "this world is not our home" brings with it an inherent disregard for the happenings of life on Earth, including the misfortune that may befall others.
I apologize. I'm ranting. But I hope I have made myself clear.
To end on a positive note, the Candle Mistress did close with a return to the idea that loving others is the primary Christian duty. The Good Reverend and Stephanie Higgins have already addressed this subject in the past few weeks, but it's always good to hear someone else offer their support and perspective on the issue.
If you survive the snowstorm, tomorrow is the last chapel of the semester. Huzzah!
But then again, if you survive this snowstorm, why would you want to venture out into another one just to go to chapel tomorrow?
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Back in the good old days, when I was a youngster, we had to walk to chapel through blinding snowstorms, uphill both ways, with no shoes! And chapel was three days a week, and four hours long, and the Gresh spoke every day!
Aren't you looking forward to torturing your grandchildren with stories like that?
Come one, come all to chapel. For it is the season of Advent. And I, your venerable leader, His Holiness the Strawn, do not know the proper procedure for lighting Advent candles, and I need you all to come watch me ignore this long-standing tradition.
Great work there, Brad. Really great. We all know how excited you are about celebrating the winter solstice festival wrapped up and tagged as "Christmas," but it's not like the babe is going to be born again. . . .
And what better way to herald the coming of the Christmas season than to hear the Maldonator and company sing several poorly rearranged Christmas carols? Oh, holy Maldonator, your voice melts the ice around my cold, withering heart. . . .
On the upside, Jairo's Johnmayerstagefacitosis seems to be in remission; though his guitar player appears to be suffering from an aggressive case of Overratedrockstarimpersonatitis. Maybe next time Mr. Allmon will play something that actually fits what the rest of the band doing.
I would now like to introduce our speaker for today. You should know that we passed up applicants with Ph.D's and Ed.D's to get her, so you know she's good. . . .
"Good morning, everyone. I have a very important message for you this morning."
Yeah, well, we've heard that before. How about you leave that judgment up to us, Candle Mistress.
"You see, this world is like a dorm room. We're here for a little while, but it's not our home."
Oh come on. . . . I really thought we had moved past all this "now-and-not-yet-kingdom" bullshit. Apparently not.
Problem #1: This world is our home, at least for eighty years or so. Last time I checked, that's slightly more than a "little while." Now, if you want to spend your eighty years desparately trying to remain "uncomfortable" in your body while you wait for Jesus to come cruising back in a low-rider with twenty-fours, by all means, go right ahead. Just don't try and tell me that I need to spend all my time not enjoying myself and staring at the sky.
Problem #2: If the Christian ambition is to try and corral as many people as possible into God's holy fishing net, then a certain amount of engagement with the world is necessary. Sure, you've heard it said that if you live out your "Christian walk" in front of non-believers, they will get curious and ask you what makes you so different, but that's bullshit. If you're a male what they're really thinking is, "Where the fuck is that guy's masculinity?" And if you're a female what they're really thinking is, "Wow, I'd really like to date her, but the only thing she'd ever thump is a Bible."
Problem #3: If you, as a Christian, were to start a conversation with someone by saying, "Hi. Do you have a minute? You do? Would you mind if I told you about my 'true home?'" you'd get laughed at, or searched for cyanide punch, probably repelling the individual further away from Christianity than they were before you opened your gaping void of a mouth. [That is, of course, assuming that the heathen God had "placed on your heart" had a brain.]
Problem #4: The notion that "this world is not our home" has dramatic consequences for the worldviews of those who buy into it. What about the Green movement and caring for the environment? Why should Christians care if the polar ice caps melt and carbon emissions destroy our atmosphere? They won't be around to see it happen, so why bother? And what about political struggles? I'm all for the separation of church and state, but individuals within the church are also members of a national community with very real, pertinent concerns that need to be addressed. Why should Christians care if Russia starts another Cold War or North Korea decides to lauch a tactical nuclear missle at the United States? According to them there's a better "life" ahead, so why bother? You get the point.
Problem #5: The "this is not our home" mindset leads to a certain amount of solipsism and an irreverence for the incredible accomplishments of our species. You like to be able to go to the doctor when you get sick, but you're not a part of this world. You'll probably go see The Dark Knight again when it re-releases in theatres in mid-January, but you're not a part of this world. You were really proud when we put a rover on Mars earlier this year, but you're not a part of this world. You're reading this post on a computer, while texting your BFF, with 808s and Heartbreak playing in the background, but you're not a part of this world.
Now, before all you upstart theology majors start sending me e-mails and quoting scripture about "bringing the Kingdom of God to earth," hear this. I do not have a problem with the Christian anticipation of going to heaven. What I do have a problem with is the other-worldly focus embedded in the idea that "this world is not our home."
If you believe that God put you here, then it is your home. And whatever good intentions you may have about bringing the "Kingdom of God" to Earth, the reality is that there are a great number of people within the Christian religion who couldn't care less about anything other than their living a comfortable life until the day that Jesus comes back to carry them away. Their concern is for themselves, and themselves only. The idea that "this world is not our home" brings with it an inherent disregard for the happenings of life on Earth, including the misfortune that may befall others.
I apologize. I'm ranting. But I hope I have made myself clear.
To end on a positive note, the Candle Mistress did close with a return to the idea that loving others is the primary Christian duty. The Good Reverend and Stephanie Higgins have already addressed this subject in the past few weeks, but it's always good to hear someone else offer their support and perspective on the issue.
If you survive the snowstorm, tomorrow is the last chapel of the semester. Huzzah!
But then again, if you survive this snowstorm, why would you want to venture out into another one just to go to chapel tomorrow?
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Class act
Good afternoon, chapelers.
I hope you're bundled up today, because it's colder than Frosty's nipples outside.
Class chapels. Did you enjoy yourselves?
Again, one guess as to what I thought of my class chapel. . . .
I think one of the worst things about class chapels is that they are a wasted opportunity. We are broken up into small groups, a perfect time to start a healthy discussion, hear different viewpoints, challenge others and be challenged in our beliefs, and what do we do? We watch campaign videos. We have a small worship session with the Maldonator. We spend a little quality time with everyone's BFF, Rob Bell. We sit around for fifteen minutes playing on our cell phones and laptops while someone gets up and makes a few announcements that no one will remember fifteen minutes later. Blah.
It's pathetic that the best I can hope for from my class chapel is that one of my class officers will bring doughnuts.
Discussion post: How can class chapels be constructed to be beneficial to our lives, rather than a complete waste of time?
Only two more chapels left! Ms. Green, who I will come up with a nickname for, on Tuesday and His Holiness sending us off on Wednesday. I suppose it's possible that these services will be worth getting out of bed for, but I won't hold my breath.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
I hope you're bundled up today, because it's colder than Frosty's nipples outside.
Class chapels. Did you enjoy yourselves?
Again, one guess as to what I thought of my class chapel. . . .
I think one of the worst things about class chapels is that they are a wasted opportunity. We are broken up into small groups, a perfect time to start a healthy discussion, hear different viewpoints, challenge others and be challenged in our beliefs, and what do we do? We watch campaign videos. We have a small worship session with the Maldonator. We spend a little quality time with everyone's BFF, Rob Bell. We sit around for fifteen minutes playing on our cell phones and laptops while someone gets up and makes a few announcements that no one will remember fifteen minutes later. Blah.
It's pathetic that the best I can hope for from my class chapel is that one of my class officers will bring doughnuts.
Discussion post: How can class chapels be constructed to be beneficial to our lives, rather than a complete waste of time?
Only two more chapels left! Ms. Green, who I will come up with a nickname for, on Tuesday and His Holiness sending us off on Wednesday. I suppose it's possible that these services will be worth getting out of bed for, but I won't hold my breath.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Jubilee!
Hey all you classy people!
Welcome back from the break and from your tryptophan coma! Here's a tip: avoid mirrors and buffets for the next week or two, or at least long enough to lose the five pounds you've gained. Thank you, Jesus, for elastic waistbands. . . .
Just in case you went deaf and blind over the break, or simply weren't paying attention at the end of chapel, today is His Holiness' birthday. So, happy birthday Mr. Strawn! Here's hoping the next 365.25 days of your life are everything but mediocre.
So, it's officially December. Time to get out all those tacky icicle lights, popcorn garlands, and blow-up Santas [. . . .] and participate in the cultural disaster that Christmas has become. Call me Scrooge if you must, but there's something a little ironic about the insistence of the Christian religion to celebrate the birth of its Savior on a pagan holiday.
It was nice to return to a band that didn't suck. Nothing revolutionary, but at least my ears weren't bleeding.
All rise for the REVEREND Stepanie Higgins. [I don't know how to put this, but I'm kind of a big deal.]
We get it, you're happy to be here.
Oh, and I need to take a moment to give a shout out to Chris Holcomb. Holla! Where are you? What?! You're on the back row?! You mean you don't like chapel either and sit on the back row so that you can talk to your friends and not pay attention? Just like most of the other people at SNU? And you'd prefer that I not call you out in front of the whole school and make an ass of myself at your expense? Damn, that's a surprise.
Also, I'm gonna spend about five minutes talking nonsense while I try in vain to connect the Hebrew celebration of Jubilee with a library fine that I really don't want to pay. [Here's an idea: how about a year of Jubilee with regards to chapel? A year of no chapels! You know, as long as we're in the business of setting people free from bondage. . . .]
Here's five more minutes worth of random shit spewing from my mouth.
Ha! You thought I was actually going to start my sermon now, didn't you? But you're wrong! Now I'm going to tell you about how I might, at any moment, begin panting. [Stephanie, I know you're preaching and being filled by the Holy Spirit and everything, but I don't think God is in the market for another holy mother.]
Once she finally did get started, Stephanie had some good things to say. If you were in chapel last Tuesday, when we sat down with the Good Reverend for storytime, you'll know that Stephanie's points were very similar to the ones he made.
Last week Jason asked the question, "How well do you ever really know anybody?" His point was that, often, our default relational setting is one of seclusion and secrecy, and while the practice of really digging into people to find out who they are and what stories they have to tell is difficult to establish, it is well worth the effort.
Stephanie continued in this vein by encouraging us to simply love people. Regardless of appearance, or movie preference, or the fact that they are roughly three times your age and can still kick your ass in marathons, to simply love them.
Now, obviously this "love" for others will not take the form of romantic or familial love. So what does this "love" look like? Well, [brace yourselves, I'm about to quote scripture again] for all of his shortcomings, I think Paul actually did a decent job of summarizing Jesus' attitude of love in his letter to the Corinthians. [13: 4-7]
"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."
In most cases this passage is referenced when a pastor is talking about how spouses ought to relate to one another, but its application seems much broader to me.
I think it goes without saying that such a practice is bound to be difficult. As Americans we're taught to look out for ourselves and to take what we can get, regardless of the cost to others. And I don't think Jesus, or Paul [St., apparently], meant for us to run our love up flagpoles for everyone to see. There's a line from a Jars of Clay song that reads, "Peace is not the heroin that shouts above the cost." [The song is called, "Surprise."] And I think this love may be a little bit like that, subtle, but you'd notice its absence.
Class chapels tomorrow. Fuck.
You stay classy San Diego.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
I'm Daedalus?
Welcome back from the break and from your tryptophan coma! Here's a tip: avoid mirrors and buffets for the next week or two, or at least long enough to lose the five pounds you've gained. Thank you, Jesus, for elastic waistbands. . . .
Just in case you went deaf and blind over the break, or simply weren't paying attention at the end of chapel, today is His Holiness' birthday. So, happy birthday Mr. Strawn! Here's hoping the next 365.25 days of your life are everything but mediocre.
So, it's officially December. Time to get out all those tacky icicle lights, popcorn garlands, and blow-up Santas [. . . .] and participate in the cultural disaster that Christmas has become. Call me Scrooge if you must, but there's something a little ironic about the insistence of the Christian religion to celebrate the birth of its Savior on a pagan holiday.
It was nice to return to a band that didn't suck. Nothing revolutionary, but at least my ears weren't bleeding.
All rise for the REVEREND Stepanie Higgins. [I don't know how to put this, but I'm kind of a big deal.]
We get it, you're happy to be here.
Oh, and I need to take a moment to give a shout out to Chris Holcomb. Holla! Where are you? What?! You're on the back row?! You mean you don't like chapel either and sit on the back row so that you can talk to your friends and not pay attention? Just like most of the other people at SNU? And you'd prefer that I not call you out in front of the whole school and make an ass of myself at your expense? Damn, that's a surprise.
Also, I'm gonna spend about five minutes talking nonsense while I try in vain to connect the Hebrew celebration of Jubilee with a library fine that I really don't want to pay. [Here's an idea: how about a year of Jubilee with regards to chapel? A year of no chapels! You know, as long as we're in the business of setting people free from bondage. . . .]
Here's five more minutes worth of random shit spewing from my mouth.
Ha! You thought I was actually going to start my sermon now, didn't you? But you're wrong! Now I'm going to tell you about how I might, at any moment, begin panting. [Stephanie, I know you're preaching and being filled by the Holy Spirit and everything, but I don't think God is in the market for another holy mother.]
Once she finally did get started, Stephanie had some good things to say. If you were in chapel last Tuesday, when we sat down with the Good Reverend for storytime, you'll know that Stephanie's points were very similar to the ones he made.
Last week Jason asked the question, "How well do you ever really know anybody?" His point was that, often, our default relational setting is one of seclusion and secrecy, and while the practice of really digging into people to find out who they are and what stories they have to tell is difficult to establish, it is well worth the effort.
Stephanie continued in this vein by encouraging us to simply love people. Regardless of appearance, or movie preference, or the fact that they are roughly three times your age and can still kick your ass in marathons, to simply love them.
Now, obviously this "love" for others will not take the form of romantic or familial love. So what does this "love" look like? Well, [brace yourselves, I'm about to quote scripture again] for all of his shortcomings, I think Paul actually did a decent job of summarizing Jesus' attitude of love in his letter to the Corinthians. [13: 4-7]
"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."
In most cases this passage is referenced when a pastor is talking about how spouses ought to relate to one another, but its application seems much broader to me.
I think it goes without saying that such a practice is bound to be difficult. As Americans we're taught to look out for ourselves and to take what we can get, regardless of the cost to others. And I don't think Jesus, or Paul [St., apparently], meant for us to run our love up flagpoles for everyone to see. There's a line from a Jars of Clay song that reads, "Peace is not the heroin that shouts above the cost." [The song is called, "Surprise."] And I think this love may be a little bit like that, subtle, but you'd notice its absence.
Class chapels tomorrow. Fuck.
You stay classy San Diego.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
I'm Daedalus?
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
The business of living
Happy two days until national Loosen-Your-Belt-And-Be-Proud-Of-It Day! [Which is followed, naturally, by national Oh-Shit-Did-I-Really-Eat-That-Much-Oh-Well-At-Least-I-Won’t-Have-To-Cook-For-A-Week Day.]
I thought I’d give you a preview of what my Turkey Day dinner will look like. First course: stuffing, vegetable tray, and cranberry sauce.
I thought about trying to spend as much time introducing today’s post as the Good Reverend did introducing chapel this morning, but I quickly realized that such feat requires talent beyond my gifting. So, good job Jason: I wish I had it in me to be as awkwardly verbose as you.
Hopefully the tech crew took this morning’s opportunity to revel in the limelight of chapel fame for a few fleeting moments. Heaven knows they won’t get another shout-out anytime soon.
Second course: fruity Jello, green bean casserole, and corn on the cob.
Today’s band put on their snowshoes, scaled the mountain of embarrassment that has been chapel music this semester, and proudly planted their flag at the top: a solitary declaration of a break from the blissful mediocrity we have become accustomed to. [I know I could have just said, “Props to the band.” But that’s soooooo boring.]
Oh, and the chorus to the band’s second song reads thus:
“Here I am, Lord, tonight,
With my arms open wide.
Won’t you come inside?”
I’ll give you one guess as to what my comment about this chorus is going to be.
Ready?
Got it?
If you guessed, “That’s what she said,” then you are correct! Huzzah!
Third course: turducken, mashed potatoes with white gravy, and dinner rolls. Scrumptious.
I never know how to prepare myself when the Good Reverend speaks. Which I suppose is a good thing, because he mixes things up enough to keep life interesting. This morning I half expected him to launch us into the break on a high note with an energetic presentation involving video clips, special effects, trapeze artists, and maybe even a guest appearance by Kevin Bacon. [Hey, you have to be ready for anything in chapel.]
Instead we were treated, and I mean that seriously, to a somber bit of existential storytelling. The first thing to note here is that the Good Reverend is, surprise surprise, a very good storyteller. [If he ever finds a woman with enough sense in her head to marry him, his kids will be in for a treat at bedtime.]
The stories we don’t tell. . . .
. . . .are heartbreaking.
. . . .are threatening.
. . . are revealing.
. . . .are normal.
. . . .are real.
. . . .are ours.
One of my favorite things Jason pointed out this morning is that the stories that we are often a part of are not always the ones we would have chosen. Life is a bitch, you know? And sometimes the best we can do when life gives us lemons, at the risk of sounding like your eighty-six-year-old grandmother who will probably fall asleep at the dinner table on Thursday, is to make lemonade. Sometimes the changes that need to be made have to start with us.
It’s also interesting to note that, most of the time, the stories that don’t get told are the typical ones. Think about the television shows you watch. I mean, no one in real life has a car as badass as Kit or can travel through time. We want life to be glamorous. We want life to be sugar-coated and easy on the eyes. We want to hear the good stories, the encouraging stories, the stories about interesting and improbable coincidences that sound almost too good to be true. We want to think that those stories can happen to us. We want the big wedding. We want to be the one to catch the hail-mary and win the game. We want someone to show us what we need to do to get there. We want the lines to be drawn in electric, indelible ink so that if we fuck up we immediately know to retrace and rethink our steps. . . .
But that’s not life, is it? I think one of the greatest tragedies of our time is that most of us sit around staring at a screen/pulpit/stage/person waiting for an overly-romanticized and completely unbelievable life to drop into our laps, never realizing that such a life is so highly improbable that the only thing we gain by waiting is weight.
“Life doesn’t happen to you, you happen to life.”
“Love is a verb.”
“And in the end the love you take is equal to the love you make.”
Life is proactive, people. Your life will be what you make of it: no more, no less.
And as we’re all now properly motivated to go out and conquer the world, I think a good question to start with is one that was posed by the Good Reverend himself.
“How well do you ever really know anybody?”
That oughta get some people moving.
And for dessert: homemade fudge, pumpkin pie, and chocolate covered pretzels. Yum.
“Keep near me and you will be safe.”
Daedalus
I thought I’d give you a preview of what my Turkey Day dinner will look like. First course: stuffing, vegetable tray, and cranberry sauce.
I thought about trying to spend as much time introducing today’s post as the Good Reverend did introducing chapel this morning, but I quickly realized that such feat requires talent beyond my gifting. So, good job Jason: I wish I had it in me to be as awkwardly verbose as you.
Hopefully the tech crew took this morning’s opportunity to revel in the limelight of chapel fame for a few fleeting moments. Heaven knows they won’t get another shout-out anytime soon.
Second course: fruity Jello, green bean casserole, and corn on the cob.
Today’s band put on their snowshoes, scaled the mountain of embarrassment that has been chapel music this semester, and proudly planted their flag at the top: a solitary declaration of a break from the blissful mediocrity we have become accustomed to. [I know I could have just said, “Props to the band.” But that’s soooooo boring.]
Oh, and the chorus to the band’s second song reads thus:
“Here I am, Lord, tonight,
With my arms open wide.
Won’t you come inside?”
I’ll give you one guess as to what my comment about this chorus is going to be.
Ready?
Got it?
If you guessed, “That’s what she said,” then you are correct! Huzzah!
Third course: turducken, mashed potatoes with white gravy, and dinner rolls. Scrumptious.
I never know how to prepare myself when the Good Reverend speaks. Which I suppose is a good thing, because he mixes things up enough to keep life interesting. This morning I half expected him to launch us into the break on a high note with an energetic presentation involving video clips, special effects, trapeze artists, and maybe even a guest appearance by Kevin Bacon. [Hey, you have to be ready for anything in chapel.]
Instead we were treated, and I mean that seriously, to a somber bit of existential storytelling. The first thing to note here is that the Good Reverend is, surprise surprise, a very good storyteller. [If he ever finds a woman with enough sense in her head to marry him, his kids will be in for a treat at bedtime.]
The stories we don’t tell. . . .
. . . .are heartbreaking.
. . . .are threatening.
. . . are revealing.
. . . .are normal.
. . . .are real.
. . . .are ours.
One of my favorite things Jason pointed out this morning is that the stories that we are often a part of are not always the ones we would have chosen. Life is a bitch, you know? And sometimes the best we can do when life gives us lemons, at the risk of sounding like your eighty-six-year-old grandmother who will probably fall asleep at the dinner table on Thursday, is to make lemonade. Sometimes the changes that need to be made have to start with us.
It’s also interesting to note that, most of the time, the stories that don’t get told are the typical ones. Think about the television shows you watch. I mean, no one in real life has a car as badass as Kit or can travel through time. We want life to be glamorous. We want life to be sugar-coated and easy on the eyes. We want to hear the good stories, the encouraging stories, the stories about interesting and improbable coincidences that sound almost too good to be true. We want to think that those stories can happen to us. We want the big wedding. We want to be the one to catch the hail-mary and win the game. We want someone to show us what we need to do to get there. We want the lines to be drawn in electric, indelible ink so that if we fuck up we immediately know to retrace and rethink our steps. . . .
But that’s not life, is it? I think one of the greatest tragedies of our time is that most of us sit around staring at a screen/pulpit/stage/person waiting for an overly-romanticized and completely unbelievable life to drop into our laps, never realizing that such a life is so highly improbable that the only thing we gain by waiting is weight.
“Life doesn’t happen to you, you happen to life.”
“Love is a verb.”
“And in the end the love you take is equal to the love you make.”
Life is proactive, people. Your life will be what you make of it: no more, no less.
And as we’re all now properly motivated to go out and conquer the world, I think a good question to start with is one that was posed by the Good Reverend himself.
“How well do you ever really know anybody?”
That oughta get some people moving.
And for dessert: homemade fudge, pumpkin pie, and chocolate covered pretzels. Yum.
“Keep near me and you will be safe.”
Daedalus
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Hades ascending
Please enter quietly as we prepare to indoctrinate you. . . . I love silent chapels.
It's especially discouraging to me that, after such a thoughtful chapel on Tuesday, on Wednesday we're right back into the old routine. Sorry to tell you, Dr. Jacobs, but there is a good chance that your words fell on deaf ears.
This morning's service contained far too much shit to comment on in one post, so I have decided, in lieu of writing a novel, to select my topics by raffle. I have written possible topics on slips of paper, placed those slips into a hat, and I will draw five of them to comment on. Drum roll please. . . .
One. "You are FORGIVEN. Love, God."
Are you kidding me? Just in case you've forgotten, this brilliant snippet of revelation kicked off the twenty minute slideshow we had the priviledge of sitting through this morning. In the slides immediately preceding this one we were encouraged to repent of our sins, making silent supplication to God to forgive us for the horrible, wretched, sinful lives we lead.
By this point I hope I have made my thoughts on corporate confession very clear. [Here's a refresher.] But this? This is worse than those fucking billboards. This is a whole new level of bullshit. Did God put that Powerpoint together? Did God walk into Brad's office and tell him to add that slide? Or maybe His Holiness isn't to blame. Maybe God added that slide to the presentation himself while it was being projected onto the screens: revelation in real-time! [Congrats, SNU, you are the first people in history to witness a miracle.]
Oh, and apparently God wanted us to know that we are FORGIVEN for those sins, because regular old forgiven wouldn't be enough.
Two. Videology.
The modernist perspective is dead, and I'm not sure if the makers of the first video we were treated to this morning were ever made aware of this fact. Good or evil, right or wrong, loved or abandoned, light or dark, black or white, paper or plastic: these are all false dilemmas that died with the rest of modernism. If post-modernity has taught us anything it is that the complexities of life simply do not lend themselves to such binary classification. Grey is the new black.
Another problem I had with this video was its asking, "Who will rescue us?"
My primary concern with questions like this one is that it invites complacency by implying that humanity is not smart/strong/reasonable/moral enough to get itself out of the mess it's in. But more than that, this question appears to suggest that humanity is somehow inherently in need of rescue, whether in a crisis or not. [Think "original sin."] Gnostic, much? If my reading of the gospels is correct, Jesus came to empower humanity, not strip away its dignity and leave us crying at the sky in hope of the "second coming."
Three. Storybook Apostle's Creed.
Someone was having a little too much fun with Powerpoint this week: pictures, animated text, the whole shebang. Are we so dense that we need pictures of flames to animate the concept of Hell? [Which is not Biblical, by the way. We have Dante to thank for the flames and tridents.] Text dropping from on high to show Jesus descending? Crying Jesus? Clouds of holiness?
Why not just go all the way [that's what she said] and give us a Seussian chapel sometime?
Would you sin within a house?
Would you sin with a mouse?
I would not sin within a house.
I would not sin with a mouse.
I would not sin here or there.
I would not sin anywhere.
I do not like sin or vice.
I do not like them, Jesus Christ!
You can give me that Pulitzer now.
Four. Guided prayer.
Whoever had the brilliant idea that Christians would benefit from someone holding their hand and walking them through a "proper" relationship with God needs to be dragged out into the street and shot. Here's a new idea: how about you leave me and my reationship with God alone and worry about your own divine dealings?
I anticipate that someone might counter this position by arguing that, through guided prayer, Christians are united in their concern for a specific issue/person. Okay, but for what? If the argument is that being united as a church/body/campus is subjectively beneficial for those involved, then I have no problem. [Though at SNU such unity rarely extends beyond the moments of guided prayer, if a feeling of unity is created in such moments at all.] However, if someone were crazy enough to try and argue that by praying collectively for some need that God would be more likely to respond, I would be forced to look them square in the eyes and alert them to the fact that they are a dumbass.
Five. This one is, surprisingly, positive. Mr. Whiteside's presentation of the music this morning was refreshingly honest. It was nice to see a musician on stage who had actually taken the time to practice and memorize his/her music before performing.
Let's end on a high note.
We only have to go to one chapel next week! Huzzah!
"Fill us up and send us out." That's what she said.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
It's especially discouraging to me that, after such a thoughtful chapel on Tuesday, on Wednesday we're right back into the old routine. Sorry to tell you, Dr. Jacobs, but there is a good chance that your words fell on deaf ears.
This morning's service contained far too much shit to comment on in one post, so I have decided, in lieu of writing a novel, to select my topics by raffle. I have written possible topics on slips of paper, placed those slips into a hat, and I will draw five of them to comment on. Drum roll please. . . .
One. "You are FORGIVEN. Love, God."
Are you kidding me? Just in case you've forgotten, this brilliant snippet of revelation kicked off the twenty minute slideshow we had the priviledge of sitting through this morning. In the slides immediately preceding this one we were encouraged to repent of our sins, making silent supplication to God to forgive us for the horrible, wretched, sinful lives we lead.
By this point I hope I have made my thoughts on corporate confession very clear. [Here's a refresher.] But this? This is worse than those fucking billboards. This is a whole new level of bullshit. Did God put that Powerpoint together? Did God walk into Brad's office and tell him to add that slide? Or maybe His Holiness isn't to blame. Maybe God added that slide to the presentation himself while it was being projected onto the screens: revelation in real-time! [Congrats, SNU, you are the first people in history to witness a miracle.]
Oh, and apparently God wanted us to know that we are FORGIVEN for those sins, because regular old forgiven wouldn't be enough.
Two. Videology.
The modernist perspective is dead, and I'm not sure if the makers of the first video we were treated to this morning were ever made aware of this fact. Good or evil, right or wrong, loved or abandoned, light or dark, black or white, paper or plastic: these are all false dilemmas that died with the rest of modernism. If post-modernity has taught us anything it is that the complexities of life simply do not lend themselves to such binary classification. Grey is the new black.
Another problem I had with this video was its asking, "Who will rescue us?"
My primary concern with questions like this one is that it invites complacency by implying that humanity is not smart/strong/reasonable/moral enough to get itself out of the mess it's in. But more than that, this question appears to suggest that humanity is somehow inherently in need of rescue, whether in a crisis or not. [Think "original sin."] Gnostic, much? If my reading of the gospels is correct, Jesus came to empower humanity, not strip away its dignity and leave us crying at the sky in hope of the "second coming."
Three. Storybook Apostle's Creed.
Someone was having a little too much fun with Powerpoint this week: pictures, animated text, the whole shebang. Are we so dense that we need pictures of flames to animate the concept of Hell? [Which is not Biblical, by the way. We have Dante to thank for the flames and tridents.] Text dropping from on high to show Jesus descending? Crying Jesus? Clouds of holiness?
Why not just go all the way [that's what she said] and give us a Seussian chapel sometime?
Would you sin within a house?
Would you sin with a mouse?
I would not sin within a house.
I would not sin with a mouse.
I would not sin here or there.
I would not sin anywhere.
I do not like sin or vice.
I do not like them, Jesus Christ!
You can give me that Pulitzer now.
Four. Guided prayer.
Whoever had the brilliant idea that Christians would benefit from someone holding their hand and walking them through a "proper" relationship with God needs to be dragged out into the street and shot. Here's a new idea: how about you leave me and my reationship with God alone and worry about your own divine dealings?
I anticipate that someone might counter this position by arguing that, through guided prayer, Christians are united in their concern for a specific issue/person. Okay, but for what? If the argument is that being united as a church/body/campus is subjectively beneficial for those involved, then I have no problem. [Though at SNU such unity rarely extends beyond the moments of guided prayer, if a feeling of unity is created in such moments at all.] However, if someone were crazy enough to try and argue that by praying collectively for some need that God would be more likely to respond, I would be forced to look them square in the eyes and alert them to the fact that they are a dumbass.
Five. This one is, surprisingly, positive. Mr. Whiteside's presentation of the music this morning was refreshingly honest. It was nice to see a musician on stage who had actually taken the time to practice and memorize his/her music before performing.
Let's end on a high note.
We only have to go to one chapel next week! Huzzah!
"Fill us up and send us out." That's what she said.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
And many of them are fluffy. . . .
Welcome to the big top. The banner is back and today's speaker actually had something to say - it'll take a lot to bring us down now.
How many of you went to Pow Wow - show of hands? How many of you were paying attention during the only skit that was even partially entertaining [props to The Good Reverend and the recently acquired third member of the trinity, Ms. Green {to be dubbed at a later date} for that one] and saw the video that His Holiness made about me? How many of you thought it was funny? Good. So did I.
Besides being funny, His Holiness' video cast a ray of light on a point that many of you seem to have missed. "My beef is really a philosophical one." Yes it is. And it's good to know that even Brad, whom I rail on quite a bit, is able to appreciate the more meaningful portions of my ramblings. Perhaps some of you should follow his example, for once. :)
Speaking of Brad, the Lord must have gotten up on the right side of his transcendental four-poster, California king sized bed this morning, because Brad is gone and won't be back for two weeks! Who ever said God doesn't answer prayers?
Hammered dulcimer? Was there really a hammered dulcimer on stage this morning? Wow. I've been misunderestimating the cultural IQ of people from this fine region for some time. Props for the change.
In other news, the band failed to meet my preliminary expectation of their sucking completely this morning. They did, however, manage to inspire several brave souls to "get up offa that thang" and stand in solitary defiance of the ever-present, all-pervasive apathy that has become a hallmark of our beloved institution.
All rise for the honorable Dr. Jacobs.
There are some chapel speakers that one naturally expects more from than others. Dr. Jacobs, for example, is someone from whom I expect much. The Gresh, on the other hand. . . .
I found it supremely satisfying that Jacobs opened with a quote from Kant. The quote he read is actually a part of a larger essay [which you owe it to yourself to read], but here's a highlight:
"If I have a book to serve as my understanding, a pastor to serve as my conscience, a physician to determine my diet for me, and so on, I need not exert myself at all. I need not think, if only I can pay."
Hell, even I will raise my hand and say "Amen!" to that.
Isn't it interesting how Dr. Jacobs was able to produce more worthwhile content by talking about questions he can't answer than many others have been able to with questions they [think they] can? [There's an entire book waiting to be written about this subject.]
"If I try my hardest to love people, I won't be judged by God for that."
That's fucking gospel, ladies and gentlemen. Gospel. [I seem to remember someone else trying to push a message of "love" this semester. . . .]
The reason love is so important as an axiom of morality is that love takes all the fancy talk, theology, over-sized Sunday hats, and metaphysics of Christianity, ties their shoestrings to cinder blocks and throws them into the East River. It re-emphasizes a point that we all probably know but do not like to answer to: love is a verb.
Jacobs closed by reading a poem authored by a fourteenth century Muslim named Hafiz. I would like to offer a portion of this poem as my closing.
"God wants to manhandle us."
That's what she said.
Everybody take some rubbers.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
How many of you went to Pow Wow - show of hands? How many of you were paying attention during the only skit that was even partially entertaining [props to The Good Reverend and the recently acquired third member of the trinity, Ms. Green {to be dubbed at a later date} for that one] and saw the video that His Holiness made about me? How many of you thought it was funny? Good. So did I.
Besides being funny, His Holiness' video cast a ray of light on a point that many of you seem to have missed. "My beef is really a philosophical one." Yes it is. And it's good to know that even Brad, whom I rail on quite a bit, is able to appreciate the more meaningful portions of my ramblings. Perhaps some of you should follow his example, for once. :)
Speaking of Brad, the Lord must have gotten up on the right side of his transcendental four-poster, California king sized bed this morning, because Brad is gone and won't be back for two weeks! Who ever said God doesn't answer prayers?
Hammered dulcimer? Was there really a hammered dulcimer on stage this morning? Wow. I've been misunderestimating the cultural IQ of people from this fine region for some time. Props for the change.
In other news, the band failed to meet my preliminary expectation of their sucking completely this morning. They did, however, manage to inspire several brave souls to "get up offa that thang" and stand in solitary defiance of the ever-present, all-pervasive apathy that has become a hallmark of our beloved institution.
All rise for the honorable Dr. Jacobs.
There are some chapel speakers that one naturally expects more from than others. Dr. Jacobs, for example, is someone from whom I expect much. The Gresh, on the other hand. . . .
I found it supremely satisfying that Jacobs opened with a quote from Kant. The quote he read is actually a part of a larger essay [which you owe it to yourself to read], but here's a highlight:
"If I have a book to serve as my understanding, a pastor to serve as my conscience, a physician to determine my diet for me, and so on, I need not exert myself at all. I need not think, if only I can pay."
Hell, even I will raise my hand and say "Amen!" to that.
Isn't it interesting how Dr. Jacobs was able to produce more worthwhile content by talking about questions he can't answer than many others have been able to with questions they [think they] can? [There's an entire book waiting to be written about this subject.]
- I don't know why people still kill each other.
- I don't know why people use hate to instruct children.
- I don't know why people of faith fight each other.
- I don't know why anyone still has to be hungry. . . .when we have all this food.
- I don't know why we are mostly strangers.
- I don't fully know what "Character, Culture, Christ" means. [Don't worry, Noel, neither does anyone else.]
"If I try my hardest to love people, I won't be judged by God for that."
That's fucking gospel, ladies and gentlemen. Gospel. [I seem to remember someone else trying to push a message of "love" this semester. . . .]
The reason love is so important as an axiom of morality is that love takes all the fancy talk, theology, over-sized Sunday hats, and metaphysics of Christianity, ties their shoestrings to cinder blocks and throws them into the East River. It re-emphasizes a point that we all probably know but do not like to answer to: love is a verb.
Jacobs closed by reading a poem authored by a fourteenth century Muslim named Hafiz. I would like to offer a portion of this poem as my closing.
"God wants to manhandle us."
That's what she said.
Everybody take some rubbers.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Full of that "fat kid" shame
"Hold it up. Let me see it." That's what she said.
Thirty-six gold stars and a ring-pop to the band. Prizes! Amen. ["It's call and response. Come with me." [That's what she said.]] As I said before, if anything is ever going to be successful as a ministry tool, it's going to be gospel music. Amen.
Have you seen my childhood?
My most embarrassing childhood moment, the one I'd like to erase if I could, was that one time I visited Neverland Ranch and Michael and I played doctor. . . .
His Holiness went on a binge this morning and indulged in two of his favorite pastimes: spiels-on-wheels and sermaprayers. There's no way he wasn't rocking a little buzz after that.
Spiels-on-wheels are always a good time for everyone involved, especially when Brad makes his way to the back of the floor seats, causing a slight delay between the moment the words exit his mouth and when they come through the speakers. It almost makes me feel like I'm at a disco every time. [Uh oh, social dancing! Run! Hide!]
Oh, and some of those pictures he shared were hilarious. Well, actually just one of them. The one in the car. "I somehow decided to dress like a mid-high pimp." Well, Brad, I can't speak to your status as a juvenile pimp, but you appear to have been only a molestache away from Brokeback Mountain, that's for sure. [For further reading and research on the molestache, try this and this.]
It was, once again, good to see His Holiness making use of his Ph.D. in psychology today. Unfortunately the salmon filet and baked sweet potatoes of his message turned out to be more like spam and boxed potatoes au-gratin. "Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." -Romans 8:1. [That's what he said. . . .]
Don't get me wrong, Jesus is just alright with me too, but shouldn't there be no condemnation for those who are not in Christ Jesus as well? Yes, running to Jesus is one way people can find retreat and solace from their problems and life struggles, but it's certainly not the only way. In fact, I'm going to take a step toward the end of the plank here and say that for some people, running to Jesus might not be the best [healthiest, most efficient/effective] way of dealing with their problems. That's not to say that Jesus is unable to address such a person's concerns, but only that some people might find other forms of relief [psychiatric/psychological consultations, group therapy, Zoloft, etc.] more helpful at a given moment.
Also, I think it's more than slightly unrealistic to suggest that Jesus, if one runs to and throws all their problems at him, will instantly cure all that ails said individual. If you're going to treat Jesus like a therapist, then at least be decent enough to recognize that, just as you would if you were seeing a human therapist, the bulk of the work falls on your shoulders. So, love Jesus, yeah, but please try and remember that your life is still yours to live.
Random thought: I think The Office has officially rejuvinated Freudian psychology. We may have thought that Freud was full of shit, but the frequency at which "that's-what-she-saids" are called may be evidence that he was onto something. . . .
Oh, and where was my "Hamster on a Piano" today? Really, tech crew, if you're going to be good enough to treat me to such joy one day, you can't leave me dry the next. [That's what she said.]
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
P.S. - Undercoverfabala: My offer of prizes to the band today reminded me that you have yet to claim your 20 gold stars and glow-in-the-dark pencil. This saddens me. So, if you'll be so kind as to provide me with your mailbox number, I'll get those items sent your way. [If you're not comfortable posting your mailbox number in a comment, send me a message on Facebook.]
Thirty-six gold stars and a ring-pop to the band. Prizes! Amen. ["It's call and response. Come with me." [That's what she said.]] As I said before, if anything is ever going to be successful as a ministry tool, it's going to be gospel music. Amen.
Have you seen my childhood?
My most embarrassing childhood moment, the one I'd like to erase if I could, was that one time I visited Neverland Ranch and Michael and I played doctor. . . .
His Holiness went on a binge this morning and indulged in two of his favorite pastimes: spiels-on-wheels and sermaprayers. There's no way he wasn't rocking a little buzz after that.
Spiels-on-wheels are always a good time for everyone involved, especially when Brad makes his way to the back of the floor seats, causing a slight delay between the moment the words exit his mouth and when they come through the speakers. It almost makes me feel like I'm at a disco every time. [Uh oh, social dancing! Run! Hide!]
Oh, and some of those pictures he shared were hilarious. Well, actually just one of them. The one in the car. "I somehow decided to dress like a mid-high pimp." Well, Brad, I can't speak to your status as a juvenile pimp, but you appear to have been only a molestache away from Brokeback Mountain, that's for sure. [For further reading and research on the molestache, try this and this.]
It was, once again, good to see His Holiness making use of his Ph.D. in psychology today. Unfortunately the salmon filet and baked sweet potatoes of his message turned out to be more like spam and boxed potatoes au-gratin. "Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." -Romans 8:1. [That's what he said. . . .]
Don't get me wrong, Jesus is just alright with me too, but shouldn't there be no condemnation for those who are not in Christ Jesus as well? Yes, running to Jesus is one way people can find retreat and solace from their problems and life struggles, but it's certainly not the only way. In fact, I'm going to take a step toward the end of the plank here and say that for some people, running to Jesus might not be the best [healthiest, most efficient/effective] way of dealing with their problems. That's not to say that Jesus is unable to address such a person's concerns, but only that some people might find other forms of relief [psychiatric/psychological consultations, group therapy, Zoloft, etc.] more helpful at a given moment.
Also, I think it's more than slightly unrealistic to suggest that Jesus, if one runs to and throws all their problems at him, will instantly cure all that ails said individual. If you're going to treat Jesus like a therapist, then at least be decent enough to recognize that, just as you would if you were seeing a human therapist, the bulk of the work falls on your shoulders. So, love Jesus, yeah, but please try and remember that your life is still yours to live.
Random thought: I think The Office has officially rejuvinated Freudian psychology. We may have thought that Freud was full of shit, but the frequency at which "that's-what-she-saids" are called may be evidence that he was onto something. . . .
Oh, and where was my "Hamster on a Piano" today? Really, tech crew, if you're going to be good enough to treat me to such joy one day, you can't leave me dry the next. [That's what she said.]
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
P.S. - Undercoverfabala: My offer of prizes to the band today reminded me that you have yet to claim your 20 gold stars and glow-in-the-dark pencil. This saddens me. So, if you'll be so kind as to provide me with your mailbox number, I'll get those items sent your way. [If you're not comfortable posting your mailbox number in a comment, send me a message on Facebook.]
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
10 Things I Hate About Messengers
Greetings and welcome to the Tuesday Top Ten: my favorite moments from chapel this morning.
10. The Pow Wow advertisement video that took a classic SNL skit out behind the woodshed and and raped it harder than Thomas Jefferson did his kitchen maid. Don't do this to us again, SGA. Also, you do have some split ends. I'm a friend.
9. The Messengers carrying His Holiness off stage like a roll of old, dirty, flea-infested carpet. Seeing Brad carried away like a rag doll left me rejoicing. That is until I realized that his absence meant that the Messengers would be in charge. Maybe after Obama shuts down Guantanamo Bay he can send international criminals to SNU chapel services instead of waterboarding them.
8. The screech. You know what I'm talking about. It took about three minutes and five tissues to get my ears to stop bleeding. Maybe Messengers took over the tech booth too. . . . Pro of this technical failure? I couldn't hear them leading worship for three minutes. Which brings me to my next point.
7. The band. Oh God. How long has "Blessed be Your Name" been out? Six years. Is six years not enough time to learn to play a song with four chords in it? With at least an average level of proficiency? Oh, and on this note, Matt Redman: you have a moral responsibility to stop writing shitty songs that are simple enough for even shittier worship bands to play. I know you mean well, but you're doing more harm than you are good.
6. The band. Again. I've seen bad worship bands, and today's certainly ranks close to the bottom of my list, but if there is one rule that no worship band should ever break, it is this: Do not, for any reason, ever stop a song after you have started playing it. In addition to making for an extremely awkward moment, it makes you look unprofessional and unprepared. Excellence, people, excellence. Hell, after this morning I'd settle for a healthy portion of good old-fashioned mediocrity.
5. One-liners: "I need the hard stuff, Coke." So do I. Right now. So I can forget that I'm being forced to sit through this shit.
"It's a fiery passionate love that will flip over tables. . . " break dishware and wine bottles, spill dessert all over the floor, flip that bitch over the counter-top and fuck her senseless in a puddle of vintage red and chocolate ganache.
"They met me where I was." Where was that? A Lord of the Rings convention? You went as Gimli, didn't you?
"I've Bible-thumped them umpteen times." That's what she said.
4. Eminem, the Beastie Boys . . . . Messengers? Yeah, the rap was funny [and pretty fly for a couple of white guys], and so was the crotch-cradling, but if you're light skinned with no melanin and your name isn't Marshall Mathers, Robert Van Winkle, or Snow, you have no buisness trying to spit some lyrical eloquence.
3. Skits. My feelings about poorly written, poorly acted, and poorly produced chapel skits are well known, and just in case you were wondering, they didn't change after this morning. Here you go Shatner, act your way out of this.
2. Social dancing. Andrew, just in case you were wondering, the social dancing line was stupid. And it made you look stupid. And then you brought it up again at the end of your mumblings, which made you look stupid. Again.
1. The Messengers' hilarious attempts to put together a decent chapel program. I'm sure you've revolutionized nursery ministry and you're a big hit with the 8-and-under set, but we all hung up our Osh Koshes a long time ago. Seriously, we're in college. If anyone at OU presented a program as mistake-ridden, thoughtless, and poorly planned as the one you presented this morning, they'd be laughed off the stage and off campus. I can honestly say that I am ashamed to have the Messengers represent SNU.
Did Brad not preach all last year about "putting away childish things?" Can we now please put away the Messengers?
And now for some substance.
First, witnessing. 99.99999999999999% of witnessing should be done without the use of words. If you start talking about Jesus, chances are you're going to get tuned out. Remember that love is the greatest gift that Christianity has to offer the world.
Second, love. Loving others is one area in which Christians fail. Miserably. If Andrew was correct about anything this morning, he was correct in pointing out that the Christian church, especially in America, has a terrible track record when it comes to loving people in the way that Jesus commanded us to. [Which begs the question, "If we're not actively loving everyone around us, are we really Christians?"] Remember the poor, the widow, and the orphan? Yeah, those people didn't disappear in 28 CE.
Third, students should not be allowed to speak in chapel. It's hard enough to find a pastor who has anything meaningful to say, so why should we think that pastors-in-training have anything better to offer? Granted, I realize that there are probably a few students on our campus who could take the stage in chapel and say something intelligent, but the overwhelming majority of my experiences with student speakers have been negative [shallow, cheap, inane]. Please take off the training wheels before taking the pulpit.
Fourth, and last, believing, or not believing, in God should not be a decision made solely on the basis of how you have been treated by other Christians. Andrew said this morning that he spent a portion of life before SNU apart from God because of some negative experiences he had with a specific church congregation. Such reasoning is shallow and naive. The choice to believe or not believe in God is one that has drastic consequences for one's worldview, relationships, lifestyle, and favorite ice cream flavor, and it should not be left in the hands of everyday laypeople. [Because if you leave it up to the laypeople, you'll be a Half Baked type of person.]
Oh, I suppose I should mention in closing the only valuable piece of information presented in chapel this morning. There is a chapel committee meeting later this week. Ladies and gentlemen, this is what it's all about. If we want to fix the problems that plague our chapel services and bring a mite of respectability and thoughtfulness back into our religious gatherings, we need to take these chapel committee meetings seriously. Talk to the students on the committee. Tell them what you want to see changed.
We're paying for this shit, we ought to at least be involved.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
10. The Pow Wow advertisement video that took a classic SNL skit out behind the woodshed and and raped it harder than Thomas Jefferson did his kitchen maid. Don't do this to us again, SGA. Also, you do have some split ends. I'm a friend.
9. The Messengers carrying His Holiness off stage like a roll of old, dirty, flea-infested carpet. Seeing Brad carried away like a rag doll left me rejoicing. That is until I realized that his absence meant that the Messengers would be in charge. Maybe after Obama shuts down Guantanamo Bay he can send international criminals to SNU chapel services instead of waterboarding them.
8. The screech. You know what I'm talking about. It took about three minutes and five tissues to get my ears to stop bleeding. Maybe Messengers took over the tech booth too. . . . Pro of this technical failure? I couldn't hear them leading worship for three minutes. Which brings me to my next point.
7. The band. Oh God. How long has "Blessed be Your Name" been out? Six years. Is six years not enough time to learn to play a song with four chords in it? With at least an average level of proficiency? Oh, and on this note, Matt Redman: you have a moral responsibility to stop writing shitty songs that are simple enough for even shittier worship bands to play. I know you mean well, but you're doing more harm than you are good.
6. The band. Again. I've seen bad worship bands, and today's certainly ranks close to the bottom of my list, but if there is one rule that no worship band should ever break, it is this: Do not, for any reason, ever stop a song after you have started playing it. In addition to making for an extremely awkward moment, it makes you look unprofessional and unprepared. Excellence, people, excellence. Hell, after this morning I'd settle for a healthy portion of good old-fashioned mediocrity.
5. One-liners: "I need the hard stuff, Coke." So do I. Right now. So I can forget that I'm being forced to sit through this shit.
"It's a fiery passionate love that will flip over tables. . . " break dishware and wine bottles, spill dessert all over the floor, flip that bitch over the counter-top and fuck her senseless in a puddle of vintage red and chocolate ganache.
"They met me where I was." Where was that? A Lord of the Rings convention? You went as Gimli, didn't you?
"I've Bible-thumped them umpteen times." That's what she said.
4. Eminem, the Beastie Boys . . . . Messengers? Yeah, the rap was funny [and pretty fly for a couple of white guys], and so was the crotch-cradling, but if you're light skinned with no melanin and your name isn't Marshall Mathers, Robert Van Winkle, or Snow, you have no buisness trying to spit some lyrical eloquence.
3. Skits. My feelings about poorly written, poorly acted, and poorly produced chapel skits are well known, and just in case you were wondering, they didn't change after this morning. Here you go Shatner, act your way out of this.
2. Social dancing. Andrew, just in case you were wondering, the social dancing line was stupid. And it made you look stupid. And then you brought it up again at the end of your mumblings, which made you look stupid. Again.
1. The Messengers' hilarious attempts to put together a decent chapel program. I'm sure you've revolutionized nursery ministry and you're a big hit with the 8-and-under set, but we all hung up our Osh Koshes a long time ago. Seriously, we're in college. If anyone at OU presented a program as mistake-ridden, thoughtless, and poorly planned as the one you presented this morning, they'd be laughed off the stage and off campus. I can honestly say that I am ashamed to have the Messengers represent SNU.
Did Brad not preach all last year about "putting away childish things?" Can we now please put away the Messengers?
And now for some substance.
First, witnessing. 99.99999999999999% of witnessing should be done without the use of words. If you start talking about Jesus, chances are you're going to get tuned out. Remember that love is the greatest gift that Christianity has to offer the world.
Second, love. Loving others is one area in which Christians fail. Miserably. If Andrew was correct about anything this morning, he was correct in pointing out that the Christian church, especially in America, has a terrible track record when it comes to loving people in the way that Jesus commanded us to. [Which begs the question, "If we're not actively loving everyone around us, are we really Christians?"] Remember the poor, the widow, and the orphan? Yeah, those people didn't disappear in 28 CE.
Third, students should not be allowed to speak in chapel. It's hard enough to find a pastor who has anything meaningful to say, so why should we think that pastors-in-training have anything better to offer? Granted, I realize that there are probably a few students on our campus who could take the stage in chapel and say something intelligent, but the overwhelming majority of my experiences with student speakers have been negative [shallow, cheap, inane]. Please take off the training wheels before taking the pulpit.
Fourth, and last, believing, or not believing, in God should not be a decision made solely on the basis of how you have been treated by other Christians. Andrew said this morning that he spent a portion of life before SNU apart from God because of some negative experiences he had with a specific church congregation. Such reasoning is shallow and naive. The choice to believe or not believe in God is one that has drastic consequences for one's worldview, relationships, lifestyle, and favorite ice cream flavor, and it should not be left in the hands of everyday laypeople. [Because if you leave it up to the laypeople, you'll be a Half Baked type of person.]
Oh, I suppose I should mention in closing the only valuable piece of information presented in chapel this morning. There is a chapel committee meeting later this week. Ladies and gentlemen, this is what it's all about. If we want to fix the problems that plague our chapel services and bring a mite of respectability and thoughtfulness back into our religious gatherings, we need to take these chapel committee meetings seriously. Talk to the students on the committee. Tell them what you want to see changed.
We're paying for this shit, we ought to at least be involved.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Giveaway
Class chapels!
I hope yours was more worthwhile than mine. [You thought I was actually going to give something away, didn’t you? Shame on you.]
For all you haters out there, take this moment to revel in the delight of a short post.
. . . . .
I’ll be back next Tuesday with some fire. After all, the Messengers are responsible for the content of next Tuesday’s chapel, and we know how much we love those skits. . . .
“Keep near me and you will be safe.”
Daedalus
P.S. Sorry for the odd font. My computer has taken this opportunity to be an excessive bitch. I'll try and get that resolved before next week.
I hope yours was more worthwhile than mine. [You thought I was actually going to give something away, didn’t you? Shame on you.]
For all you haters out there, take this moment to revel in the delight of a short post.
. . . . .
I’ll be back next Tuesday with some fire. After all, the Messengers are responsible for the content of next Tuesday’s chapel, and we know how much we love those skits. . . .
“Keep near me and you will be safe.”
Daedalus
P.S. Sorry for the odd font. My computer has taken this opportunity to be an excessive bitch. I'll try and get that resolved before next week.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Get on with the fascination, the real relation, the underlying theme.
Happy fourth, everyone! If you haven't voted yet, there's still time. If you're from out of state and did not send in an absentee ballot, may the Lord God smite thee.
Thanks to Dr. Ballweg for dragging another choir in to perform. It's really nice to be able to sit back and watch someone else do the worshiping for us. The problem with having choirs perform in chapel is that worship is intended to be a communal experience, or so we've been told. If students wanted to attend a choir concert, they'd show up in Cantrell once a semester.
At least the choir sang in tune [mostly]. That's more than I can say for most chapel performers.
His Holiness was especially amusing today.
1) "SNU is a place where we are transformed into Jesus through educational pursuits." Well, if that's what our administration is shooting for then perhaps they should take a quick glance at the last several years' enrollment figures. The strategy really seems to be working. . . .
Being like Jesus does not require an education. Systematic theology, metaphysics, Greek II, and MCS are essential to being like Jesus in the same way that green beans, pork rinds, and durian are essential to making a glass of chocolate milk.
2) The sermaprayer.
My third favorite thing in the world is when pastors/speakers/people who think they have a right to be on stage in religious settings use their prayers to preach to the people in attendance. His Holiness fell into this trap this morning. I'll be honest, I was asleep three minutes in, but my neighbor was nice enough to wake me when the babbling was over. Brad, as much as you like to be in the limelight, let's not forget that Dr. Dunnington was scheduled to speak today. Remember, sharing is a virtue.
For the next fifteen minutes I'm going to try my best to bore you with a long-winded story about a bike trip I took last summer and whatever tangential narratives I find pertinent. Occasionally I will laugh maniacally in a manner reminiscent of George H.W. Bush. Oh, and I think numerology is a worthwhile pursuit. 666. You have been warned.
My second favorite thing in the world is when pastors/speakers/people who think they have a right to be on stage in religious settings speak only in metaphor, offer no arguments or supporting evidence to bolster their positions, and appeal only to the emotions to communicate their message. Pathos alone does not a position create. [Maybe Dunnington can start a new list: "Things I've Learned After Turning 60."]
"I have food to eat that you do not know about." [John 4:32] That's what she said.
Dunnington's main point this morning, once he finally shut up about bikes long enough to make one, was that being in the center of God's will is the most important thing a person can ever strive for. I believe his exact quote was, "Nothing is more important to your life than being in the center of God's will." Wrong. Food is more important to my life than God's will. Boo-yah.
The main problem with all this talk about God's will is that we cannot, ever, know what the will of God is. If God is the absolute ideal that we take her to be, then it seems to require little more than common sense to recognize that humans, in our "fallen" state, cannot comprehend the mind of an absolutely idealized being. [We may be able to know things about the mind of God, but we cannot know the thoughts of God.] If this is accepted as true then it appears that the only way humans could come to knowledge of God's mind would be through direct revelation. And aside from the occasional bleeding Mary statue and a few pieces of Jesus toast here and there, God doesn't seem to be too big on direct contact. Maybe when he finally gets an unlimited texting plan . . .
New discussion board post. God's will. Go now and discuss.
Dunnington did get one thing right; love should be the standard by which we live our lives. I think we can all agree on that.
"This is my simple religion.
There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy.
Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness."
- Dalai Lama
My favorite thing in the world is when I say something over and over and over and no one takes me seriously. I know I'm not Jesus reincarnate or anything, but I was serious when I suggested that, "God helps those who help themselves." [Having to repeat this so many times almost makes me sympathize with Brad's need for a semester theme.]
Seriously.
As it's the fourth, I think it is only appropriate that I close with a few enlightening comments about the election. America is not and was never intended to be a Christian nation. On the contrary, America was intended to be a place where people could exercise their religion, however crazy it may be, without fear of oppression. With this in mind it is interesting to note that, in the last half-century, America has become the stomping ground for a brand of religious fanaticism that can only be likened to that of the Islamic terrorists who have declared Jihad against America. You think I'm kidding, but simply because the Sharptons, Falwells, Robertsons, Haggards, Dobsons, Wildmons, and Bushes of America have been clever enough to disguise their fanaticism behind the facade of "pastor" or "leader" does not make it any less prevalent or threatening. Bombing abortion clinics is only a small step away from knocking down buildings.
Jesus Camp.
Now go in the grace and peace of God and vote for Obama.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Thanks to Dr. Ballweg for dragging another choir in to perform. It's really nice to be able to sit back and watch someone else do the worshiping for us. The problem with having choirs perform in chapel is that worship is intended to be a communal experience, or so we've been told. If students wanted to attend a choir concert, they'd show up in Cantrell once a semester.
At least the choir sang in tune [mostly]. That's more than I can say for most chapel performers.
His Holiness was especially amusing today.
1) "SNU is a place where we are transformed into Jesus through educational pursuits." Well, if that's what our administration is shooting for then perhaps they should take a quick glance at the last several years' enrollment figures. The strategy really seems to be working. . . .
Being like Jesus does not require an education. Systematic theology, metaphysics, Greek II, and MCS are essential to being like Jesus in the same way that green beans, pork rinds, and durian are essential to making a glass of chocolate milk.
2) The sermaprayer.
My third favorite thing in the world is when pastors/speakers/people who think they have a right to be on stage in religious settings use their prayers to preach to the people in attendance. His Holiness fell into this trap this morning. I'll be honest, I was asleep three minutes in, but my neighbor was nice enough to wake me when the babbling was over. Brad, as much as you like to be in the limelight, let's not forget that Dr. Dunnington was scheduled to speak today. Remember, sharing is a virtue.
For the next fifteen minutes I'm going to try my best to bore you with a long-winded story about a bike trip I took last summer and whatever tangential narratives I find pertinent. Occasionally I will laugh maniacally in a manner reminiscent of George H.W. Bush. Oh, and I think numerology is a worthwhile pursuit. 666. You have been warned.
My second favorite thing in the world is when pastors/speakers/people who think they have a right to be on stage in religious settings speak only in metaphor, offer no arguments or supporting evidence to bolster their positions, and appeal only to the emotions to communicate their message. Pathos alone does not a position create. [Maybe Dunnington can start a new list: "Things I've Learned After Turning 60."]
"I have food to eat that you do not know about." [John 4:32] That's what she said.
Dunnington's main point this morning, once he finally shut up about bikes long enough to make one, was that being in the center of God's will is the most important thing a person can ever strive for. I believe his exact quote was, "Nothing is more important to your life than being in the center of God's will." Wrong. Food is more important to my life than God's will. Boo-yah.
The main problem with all this talk about God's will is that we cannot, ever, know what the will of God is. If God is the absolute ideal that we take her to be, then it seems to require little more than common sense to recognize that humans, in our "fallen" state, cannot comprehend the mind of an absolutely idealized being. [We may be able to know things about the mind of God, but we cannot know the thoughts of God.] If this is accepted as true then it appears that the only way humans could come to knowledge of God's mind would be through direct revelation. And aside from the occasional bleeding Mary statue and a few pieces of Jesus toast here and there, God doesn't seem to be too big on direct contact. Maybe when he finally gets an unlimited texting plan . . .
New discussion board post. God's will. Go now and discuss.
Dunnington did get one thing right; love should be the standard by which we live our lives. I think we can all agree on that.
"This is my simple religion.
There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy.
Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness."
- Dalai Lama
My favorite thing in the world is when I say something over and over and over and no one takes me seriously. I know I'm not Jesus reincarnate or anything, but I was serious when I suggested that, "God helps those who help themselves." [Having to repeat this so many times almost makes me sympathize with Brad's need for a semester theme.]
Seriously.
As it's the fourth, I think it is only appropriate that I close with a few enlightening comments about the election. America is not and was never intended to be a Christian nation. On the contrary, America was intended to be a place where people could exercise their religion, however crazy it may be, without fear of oppression. With this in mind it is interesting to note that, in the last half-century, America has become the stomping ground for a brand of religious fanaticism that can only be likened to that of the Islamic terrorists who have declared Jihad against America. You think I'm kidding, but simply because the Sharptons, Falwells, Robertsons, Haggards, Dobsons, Wildmons, and Bushes of America have been clever enough to disguise their fanaticism behind the facade of "pastor" or "leader" does not make it any less prevalent or threatening. Bombing abortion clinics is only a small step away from knocking down buildings.
Jesus Camp.
Now go in the grace and peace of God and vote for Obama.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Acquire the Fizzle
Good afternoon boys and girls! Why are you at SNU?
Better question, "Why do you not want to be at SNU?"
Answer: chapel.
On this bright and shining morning we were blessed [I know I was] with the music of the Platter brothers. Please, Jonathan, try to sing with a little less passion in your voice. I was so moved by the monotonous melody you were singing [the Spirit was practically plodding through my veins] that I almost had to get up and start running the aisles.
The exit music was nice, though. It made the already enjoyable exodus even more enjoyable.
His Holiness played his favorite game again today: Hide-and-go-speak. I found him! Did you?
Oh, and thanks, Bradley, for bringing up the skit from a couple weeks ago. Re-enjoying my eggs Benedict was exactly the experience I needed to get my morning going.
You are what you do. You are what you eat. You are what you wear. You are who you associate with. You are who I say you are. You are your parents, re-imagined. You are Rick James, bitch. You are the Dalai Lama reincarnate. You are a sad, strange, little man, and you have my pity. You get the point.
"Why are you really at SNU? This isn't a guilting chapel, or anything. . ." No? Not a guilting chapel? Parading students in front of us and having them say how they work in local and overseas missions that have dramatically changed their lives, implying that this is what our identity should be is not guilting? What was today then, Bradley? Perhaps by asking, "Why are you at SNU," your intent was to say, "If you are here and don't look like these kids, get the hell out."
As for those students who got up on stage and shared their stories, I beseech you with the same request I made of Mr. Platter. Could you please speak with a little more passion? I mean, if your life has really been changed by the missions that you are involved in it should be evident in the way you speak. Flatly reading your own notes from a piece of notebook paper does very little in the way of getting other students motivated to jump on the train. If MLKJ had been as excited about his "I Have a Dream" speech as you three were about sharing your stories, we'd still have "whites only" water-fountains.
Two days of lame chapels? And Dunnington coming up next week? Wow. If I didn't know any better I'd say someone was trying to bore us to tears.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Better question, "Why do you not want to be at SNU?"
Answer: chapel.
On this bright and shining morning we were blessed [I know I was] with the music of the Platter brothers. Please, Jonathan, try to sing with a little less passion in your voice. I was so moved by the monotonous melody you were singing [the Spirit was practically plodding through my veins] that I almost had to get up and start running the aisles.
The exit music was nice, though. It made the already enjoyable exodus even more enjoyable.
His Holiness played his favorite game again today: Hide-and-go-speak. I found him! Did you?
Oh, and thanks, Bradley, for bringing up the skit from a couple weeks ago. Re-enjoying my eggs Benedict was exactly the experience I needed to get my morning going.
You are what you do. You are what you eat. You are what you wear. You are who you associate with. You are who I say you are. You are your parents, re-imagined. You are Rick James, bitch. You are the Dalai Lama reincarnate. You are a sad, strange, little man, and you have my pity. You get the point.
"Why are you really at SNU? This isn't a guilting chapel, or anything. . ." No? Not a guilting chapel? Parading students in front of us and having them say how they work in local and overseas missions that have dramatically changed their lives, implying that this is what our identity should be is not guilting? What was today then, Bradley? Perhaps by asking, "Why are you at SNU," your intent was to say, "If you are here and don't look like these kids, get the hell out."
As for those students who got up on stage and shared their stories, I beseech you with the same request I made of Mr. Platter. Could you please speak with a little more passion? I mean, if your life has really been changed by the missions that you are involved in it should be evident in the way you speak. Flatly reading your own notes from a piece of notebook paper does very little in the way of getting other students motivated to jump on the train. If MLKJ had been as excited about his "I Have a Dream" speech as you three were about sharing your stories, we'd still have "whites only" water-fountains.
Two days of lame chapels? And Dunnington coming up next week? Wow. If I didn't know any better I'd say someone was trying to bore us to tears.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
"Thank you, for THAT."
Oooooooooooooklahoma! Wasn't chapel worthless today? The music stinked, the ads all reeked, and Clemmer had nothing to say! [Which is a damn shame, and not really her fault. As she is one of the few professors on campus who I would trust to have something intelligent and challenging to say about God, it is unfortunate that she was not given the opportunity to speak her mind.]
Chihuahua.
Ok. So. We're obligated to attend chapel twice a week. The powers that be give it a certain spin, stating that it's for the betterment of our spiritual lives and our community. But when we get there we are assaulted with worthless "advertisements" and our time is otherwise wasted. I think my spiritual life would fare better with ABC Family and Ethan Allen commercials.
Chihuahua.
Could someone please remind me what the point of chapel music is?
It has always been my understanding that chapel music is supposed to be worshipful, performed with excellence, and above all, engaging. Chorale, today you were none of these three things. While I expect the children of the Mez to be disengaged no matter who is on stage, I am quite certain that the entire student body was bored to tears today. [Even the members of Chorale looked like they didn't want to be there.]
Chihuahua.
It is great to see that the three amigos of spiritual development have such an exciting trip planned for us this Christmas. Here's a promise: I'll go to Mexico if Jason and Andrea promise to wear those sombreros the entire time.
Chihuahua.
Thanks to Prof. Clemmer for sharing her life story. While I find the secret lives of professors fascinating, today I was left wondering what the point was. Parents divorced multiple times. Got married young. Got a second degree. Separated from husband. Went to grad school. Had kids. Teaches now . . . . . . That's all well and good, but if the purpose of 27 chapels a semester is to learn something about God, shouldn't we be learning something every time we grace Herrick's seats? Today our eager minds had to wait until His Holiness' last question for any mention of theology, and even then, ten seconds of bad advice ["Don't make your own plans, wait on God. . . ."] didn't do much for me.
Once again, "God helps those who help themselves." That'll do.
Chihuahua.
His Holiness is speaking tomorrow. Maybe he'll have something valuable to say. Or not.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Chihuahua.
Ok. So. We're obligated to attend chapel twice a week. The powers that be give it a certain spin, stating that it's for the betterment of our spiritual lives and our community. But when we get there we are assaulted with worthless "advertisements" and our time is otherwise wasted. I think my spiritual life would fare better with ABC Family and Ethan Allen commercials.
Chihuahua.
Could someone please remind me what the point of chapel music is?
It has always been my understanding that chapel music is supposed to be worshipful, performed with excellence, and above all, engaging. Chorale, today you were none of these three things. While I expect the children of the Mez to be disengaged no matter who is on stage, I am quite certain that the entire student body was bored to tears today. [Even the members of Chorale looked like they didn't want to be there.]
Chihuahua.
It is great to see that the three amigos of spiritual development have such an exciting trip planned for us this Christmas. Here's a promise: I'll go to Mexico if Jason and Andrea promise to wear those sombreros the entire time.
Chihuahua.
Thanks to Prof. Clemmer for sharing her life story. While I find the secret lives of professors fascinating, today I was left wondering what the point was. Parents divorced multiple times. Got married young. Got a second degree. Separated from husband. Went to grad school. Had kids. Teaches now . . . . . . That's all well and good, but if the purpose of 27 chapels a semester is to learn something about God, shouldn't we be learning something every time we grace Herrick's seats? Today our eager minds had to wait until His Holiness' last question for any mention of theology, and even then, ten seconds of bad advice ["Don't make your own plans, wait on God. . . ."] didn't do much for me.
Once again, "God helps those who help themselves." That'll do.
Chihuahua.
His Holiness is speaking tomorrow. Maybe he'll have something valuable to say. Or not.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Da-na-na-na-na-na-na-na BatGod!
Holy bronzeworks BatGod! Satan is on the loose again, trying to steal the Jesus statue! To the Batcopter! Urrrk! Pow! Blam! Kablooey! Biff!
Wow.
Once upon a time, there was a young boy named James. James grew up in a nice, Christian home in Ohio, enjoyed bringing cookies to his grandmother and playing with his dog, Kipper. One day his daddy brought home a magic guitar. James was immediately enchanted. Little did he know that the guitar's powers would doom him to become the worst chapel musician in history.
I mean, seriously? Seriously? I'm reasonably certain that church camp only happens during the summer and is only attended by horny thirteen-year-olds, so thanks for sending me back to my wonder years. [Excellence? Forward-thinking? Honesty? Well, I can't judge that last one. 33%.]
James. I'm sure you're a nice guy. I'm sure you have good intentions. I'm sure you'd probably be a lot of fun to have a beer with. I'm also sure that you're better than this. . . .
"You guys can clap if you want to." Yeah. . . .
Beam me up, Scotty.
In the case that you only heard the part of the sermon about appendage-less squirrels this morning, you missed out; Mr. Regester really had some great thoughts to offer.
Recap. Lesson one. God's will for your life is like a candle. If you light a candle in a dark room, you will only be able to see a few steps in front of you, and everything else will remain dim or shrouded in shadow. The same holds for God's will. If you ask God what she wants you to do in a specific situation, she'll only give you advice for the next step or two. Lesson two. From lesson one it follows that Christians should make an effort to live their lives in the present moment, not worrying about what adventures, surprises, and shenanigans are waiting around the next bend.
Good thoughts. First, I have long been of the opinion that the habit many Christians fall into of praying to God and asking for her advice about who to marry, which college to attend, whether to open a bank account or not, paper or plastic, and other related questions is absurd and entirely unnecessary. Such matters are either far too dependent on circumstance and practicality or far too trivial to warrant troubling the transcendental. Unless, of course, you're totally into having a super anal-retentive, meddling micro-manager for a deity. [The other explanation, and the more probable one, is that people simply enjoy the lack of effort and thought that is required when someone else is telling them what to do. You've got some holy breast-milk on your chin . . . . a little to the left . . . . you got it.]
Christianity is, above all else, a moral system. And morality, at least in its most commonly accepted forms, is two parts altruism, two parts common sense, and one part not murdering people. The practice of living in and focusing one's attentions on the moment is advantageous for any [reasonable] moral system because it takes the focus away from the self and places it on others. Ooh, selflessness! I wonder where we've heard that before? The Buddha? Jesus? Ayn Rand? Gandhi? All but one are correct.
The third lesson from this morning? All chapel speakers, if they want their points to be remembered by the student body, should sprinkle their speeches with stories involving squished and/or sopping squirrels. Squid-burgers. Superfluous statements. [How's that for alliteration?]
Oh, and lesson four. Until further notice, skip chapel when James plays.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Wow.
Once upon a time, there was a young boy named James. James grew up in a nice, Christian home in Ohio, enjoyed bringing cookies to his grandmother and playing with his dog, Kipper. One day his daddy brought home a magic guitar. James was immediately enchanted. Little did he know that the guitar's powers would doom him to become the worst chapel musician in history.
I mean, seriously? Seriously? I'm reasonably certain that church camp only happens during the summer and is only attended by horny thirteen-year-olds, so thanks for sending me back to my wonder years. [Excellence? Forward-thinking? Honesty? Well, I can't judge that last one. 33%.]
James. I'm sure you're a nice guy. I'm sure you have good intentions. I'm sure you'd probably be a lot of fun to have a beer with. I'm also sure that you're better than this. . . .
"You guys can clap if you want to." Yeah. . . .
Beam me up, Scotty.
In the case that you only heard the part of the sermon about appendage-less squirrels this morning, you missed out; Mr. Regester really had some great thoughts to offer.
Recap. Lesson one. God's will for your life is like a candle. If you light a candle in a dark room, you will only be able to see a few steps in front of you, and everything else will remain dim or shrouded in shadow. The same holds for God's will. If you ask God what she wants you to do in a specific situation, she'll only give you advice for the next step or two. Lesson two. From lesson one it follows that Christians should make an effort to live their lives in the present moment, not worrying about what adventures, surprises, and shenanigans are waiting around the next bend.
Good thoughts. First, I have long been of the opinion that the habit many Christians fall into of praying to God and asking for her advice about who to marry, which college to attend, whether to open a bank account or not, paper or plastic, and other related questions is absurd and entirely unnecessary. Such matters are either far too dependent on circumstance and practicality or far too trivial to warrant troubling the transcendental. Unless, of course, you're totally into having a super anal-retentive, meddling micro-manager for a deity. [The other explanation, and the more probable one, is that people simply enjoy the lack of effort and thought that is required when someone else is telling them what to do. You've got some holy breast-milk on your chin . . . . a little to the left . . . . you got it.]
Christianity is, above all else, a moral system. And morality, at least in its most commonly accepted forms, is two parts altruism, two parts common sense, and one part not murdering people. The practice of living in and focusing one's attentions on the moment is advantageous for any [reasonable] moral system because it takes the focus away from the self and places it on others. Ooh, selflessness! I wonder where we've heard that before? The Buddha? Jesus? Ayn Rand? Gandhi? All but one are correct.
The third lesson from this morning? All chapel speakers, if they want their points to be remembered by the student body, should sprinkle their speeches with stories involving squished and/or sopping squirrels. Squid-burgers. Superfluous statements. [How's that for alliteration?]
Oh, and lesson four. Until further notice, skip chapel when James plays.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Jesus Olympics!
It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor, won't you be mine?
Hello, everyone, and welcome back from fall break. It's Tuesday afternoon, and if you haven't sobered up by now you may need a trip to your friendly-neighborhood ER.
I know what you're thinking. You're wondering, "How is Daedalus going to take a plea to help starving children in Africa and turn it into something bad?" Shame on you. I'm not a damn nihilist.
A few posts ago I made the following comment about organizations like Compassion International and the work that they do:
"Sub-Saharan Africa, to take one example, does not need you to sponsor a child through Compassion International. What they need is for you to go build a school or go teach a sex-ed class for teenagers. If Christians actually took their scriptures seriously, this wouldn't seem like such an outrageous suggestion."
I would like to take this opportunity to clarify this statement, as I'm not sure I expressed myself adequately the first time.
You're right, Hannah, Compassion Intl., and organizations like it, are capable of doing a lot of good for less-fortunate people throughout the world. And sponsoring a child through Compassion is not necessarily a frivolous investment. However, it does seem like the lazy-ass way out.
It is often difficult to understand the world that people on the other side of our planet wake up to while we are soundly asleep. For me this is true not just of Africa, but of France, Russia, Iran, and basically any nation besides The United States and US Lite [I'm sure you know I'm talkin' aboot Canada, eh?]. Our culture, our society, the way we have been socialized is so divorced from that of these other countries that, often, when someone speaks of the horrors of the AIDS virus, human trafficking, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict [muffins], or a nationwide shortage of food I find it difficult to connect with their message. The genius of organizations like Compassion Intl. is that they have recognized this disparity and sought to provide an easy way for those of us living plush, comfortable lives in developed countries to assuage our guilty consciences while still doing some good in the world. But, and this is what I was trying to say when I first commented on Compassion, throwing money at the problem is neither, by itself, a solution, nor does it guarantee that a solution will be found. Often money is little more than a band-aid used in attempt to heal a broken femur.
For people like the McRoberts, Compassion's system is functional because they have the time, and money, to write, visit, and interact with the children they sponsor. They are doing more than simply throwing money at the problem. However, for college students in Bethany, Oklahoma, the dream of being able to interact with children on the other side of the world is ever so slightly less realistic. So, while it might make us feel good to know that we are thirty-two dollars poorer at the end of each month, from the outside it doesn't actually seem like we are doing anything besides placating ourselves.
I would like to take this moment to make an appeal to human decency.
Can we not simply work to redeem this world in the name of morality? Organizations like Compassion and World Vision are primarily supported by churchgoing, Bible-toting Christians who feel that by donating a small amount of their paycheck to a needy child, whom they will never meet, every month they have done their duty to "feed [his] sheep." [John 21:17 NIV] [Oh my God, look! Daedalus just quoted scripture!?] I'm not saying that there is anything wrong with trying to do some good in Jesus' name [Lord knows the world could stand to have a few more people doing such], but why must we summon Jesus to the scene every time there is a situation that needs attention? Why can one person not help another, without summoning forth the divine, based entirely on the fact that they breathe the same air you do? I know this is a tangential issue, but come on people! We're humans first.
"If you ever get close to a human and human behavior, be ready to get confused . . . . There's no map and a compass wouldn't help at all."
[20 gold stars and a glow-in-the-dark pencil to anyone who can correctly identify that quote.]
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Hello, everyone, and welcome back from fall break. It's Tuesday afternoon, and if you haven't sobered up by now you may need a trip to your friendly-neighborhood ER.
I know what you're thinking. You're wondering, "How is Daedalus going to take a plea to help starving children in Africa and turn it into something bad?" Shame on you. I'm not a damn nihilist.
A few posts ago I made the following comment about organizations like Compassion International and the work that they do:
"Sub-Saharan Africa, to take one example, does not need you to sponsor a child through Compassion International. What they need is for you to go build a school or go teach a sex-ed class for teenagers. If Christians actually took their scriptures seriously, this wouldn't seem like such an outrageous suggestion."
I would like to take this opportunity to clarify this statement, as I'm not sure I expressed myself adequately the first time.
You're right, Hannah, Compassion Intl., and organizations like it, are capable of doing a lot of good for less-fortunate people throughout the world. And sponsoring a child through Compassion is not necessarily a frivolous investment. However, it does seem like the lazy-ass way out.
It is often difficult to understand the world that people on the other side of our planet wake up to while we are soundly asleep. For me this is true not just of Africa, but of France, Russia, Iran, and basically any nation besides The United States and US Lite [I'm sure you know I'm talkin' aboot Canada, eh?]. Our culture, our society, the way we have been socialized is so divorced from that of these other countries that, often, when someone speaks of the horrors of the AIDS virus, human trafficking, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict [muffins], or a nationwide shortage of food I find it difficult to connect with their message. The genius of organizations like Compassion Intl. is that they have recognized this disparity and sought to provide an easy way for those of us living plush, comfortable lives in developed countries to assuage our guilty consciences while still doing some good in the world. But, and this is what I was trying to say when I first commented on Compassion, throwing money at the problem is neither, by itself, a solution, nor does it guarantee that a solution will be found. Often money is little more than a band-aid used in attempt to heal a broken femur.
For people like the McRoberts, Compassion's system is functional because they have the time, and money, to write, visit, and interact with the children they sponsor. They are doing more than simply throwing money at the problem. However, for college students in Bethany, Oklahoma, the dream of being able to interact with children on the other side of the world is ever so slightly less realistic. So, while it might make us feel good to know that we are thirty-two dollars poorer at the end of each month, from the outside it doesn't actually seem like we are doing anything besides placating ourselves.
I would like to take this moment to make an appeal to human decency.
Can we not simply work to redeem this world in the name of morality? Organizations like Compassion and World Vision are primarily supported by churchgoing, Bible-toting Christians who feel that by donating a small amount of their paycheck to a needy child, whom they will never meet, every month they have done their duty to "feed [his] sheep." [John 21:17 NIV] [Oh my God, look! Daedalus just quoted scripture!?] I'm not saying that there is anything wrong with trying to do some good in Jesus' name [Lord knows the world could stand to have a few more people doing such], but why must we summon Jesus to the scene every time there is a situation that needs attention? Why can one person not help another, without summoning forth the divine, based entirely on the fact that they breathe the same air you do? I know this is a tangential issue, but come on people! We're humans first.
"If you ever get close to a human and human behavior, be ready to get confused . . . . There's no map and a compass wouldn't help at all."
[20 gold stars and a glow-in-the-dark pencil to anyone who can correctly identify that quote.]
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Bump
And they're off. Fall break has officially begun; hopefully you're all as overjoyed as I am.
Several things on the agenda for today. First, some housekeeping issues. Second, more invigorating comments on chapel.
I would officially like to welcome John Dawson/Darwin to the discussion. Some of you may have seen this profile pop into existence yesterday, but just in case you did not, search for "John Dawson" on Facebook and become his friend. His picture is here. He also has a group, Adapt and Change, and a blog, Originally Breathed Into A Few Forms.
I do not know yet whether I should call Darwin an enemy or a friend, but I shall momentarily allow my optimistic spirit to come to the fore and entertain him as a friend. He is wrong to say that I have not presented arguments for my positions, but correct in saying that I have a tendency to be crass. [As I have said before, the sarcasm and cynicism are infused into my comments because I do not think I would have an audience otherwise. If any of you can honestly tell me that you would be reading this right now if I were simply presenting point-by-point arguments devoid of humor or otherwise stimulating comments, then I will re-think my approach. But no promises.] It will be my hope, for the present, that some meaningful conversations can be had between Darwin, myself, and many of you, the readers.
On that note, I should apologize for a few of the things I said in yesterday's post. I was wrong to characterize all Nazarene pastors in the way that I did: not all of them drive Lexuses, wear Armani, or live in gated communities. To those pastors who do not, I apologize for my unjustified attacks. However, not all Nazarene pastors are so pastoral. I think it is despicable for pastors to live lives that are exponentially more lavish than those of their congregations, so my comments still stand for those pastors [Nazarene or otherwise] who are characterized by Lexuses, Armani, and gates.
One last housekeeping detail. For those of you who posted comments on yesterday's post, I have posted a comment of my own attempting to quell some of your concerns.
And to chapel we go.
Throw up your rawkfist, if you felt it when today's band dropped it. Oh, and Ms. Anonymous Freshman Singer has some pipes. Somebody get that girl into a studio.
His Holiness presented us with his, now familiar, thoughts on "identity" for the third time today. It's amazing to me the amount of time he has managed to fill while saying so little. "We should find our identities in Christ." Great. Now tell me why. Give me an argument. I'm beginning to think we might have to wait until Palin raises her IQ above 83 for that.
"There's this woman, here, on the banner that some of you have mistaken for a one-winged angel. That wouldn't be good for anything except . . . flying in circles." *nervous laughter*
And flown in circles you have, Holiness, with your ever-redundant thoughts on the subject of identity. But who's complaining? I'll take free publicity wherever I can get it. :)
As for the finer points of the sermon, a few things require further investigation.
We were reminded today of the story contained in I Sameul 4 and 5 about the capture of the ark of the covenant by the Philistines. According to 5:2-4, "Then they carried the ark into Dagon's temple and set it beside Dagon. When the people of Ashdod rose early the next day, there was Dagon, fallen on his face on the ground before the ark of the LORD! They took Dagon and put him back in his place. But the following morning when they rose, there was Dagon, fallen on his face on the ground before the ark of the LORD! His head and hands had been broken off and were lying on the threshold; only his body remained." [NIV]
The most obvious thing that needs to be said about the above passage is that one should not assume, based on this passage, that the very presence of the ark caused the statue of Dagon to fall. If you are of the opinion that the ark possessed the powers visualized in the clip from Raiders of the Lost Ark, you have more than a little rethinking to do.
Miracles, such as the one hinted at in the above text, are trangressions of the laws of Nature. Only one problem: the laws of Nature have never been, to our knowlege, transgressed. It may be, and probably is, the case that humanity is still ignorant of some or many of Nature's operating principles. For this reason it might sometimes seem as if the laws of Nature are capable of being broken. [And we do love thinking that they can be, don't we? David Blaine, Derren Brown, David Copperfield. . . .] However, when these cases arise, what always happens is that we gather data, learn more about Nature and how it functions, and adjust our knowledge accordingly. Opening the ark of the covenant would not have melted faces any more than going to Hebrew Woodstock, and Dagon did not fall over simply because someone put a gold box in the same room. Natural causes, people, natural causes.
In the words of the late, great David Hume, "No testimony is sufficient to establish a miracle, unless the testimony be of such a kind, that its falsehood would be more miraculous, than the fact, which it endeavors to establish."
Of course, if I were one of the Israelites back in the day, I would have thoroughly enjoyed having at my disposal a holy gold box that could function as a weapon of biological warfare and an instant genocide device. "Hey guys! Let's go put the ark out in the field for the Babylonians to find when they come try to sack Jerusalem! No, seriously, it'll be hilarious." That would've come in handy. . . .
Finally, His Holiness wanted to tell us today that we sometimes allow our conceptions of God to become too limited in scope, and that we should avoid this thinking like the plague. He asserted that if we think of God as being powerless and impotent, then we might try to take things into our own hands and, as a result, wander away from the yellow brick road of holiness and salvation. I mean, yeah, that'd be terrible. You know, for us to manage our own lives and make decisions for ourselves? That would suck a big one.
What His Holiness failed to point out is that the pendulum swings the other way as well. If we begin to think of God as an all-powerful being who micromanages every aspect of everything, we're going to end up sitting on our asses praying for the same miracle for twenty years, all the while ignoring the fact that nothing is ever going to change as a result of our prayers. I don't know about you, but I don't think I need to ask God what his opinion is about which classes I should take next semester. The answer, as with most everything, is probably to be found somewhere between these extremes. "God helps those who help themselves." That'll do.
Because you all have found the discussion board thread about religious schools so intriguing, I've started another one. Miracles. Do they happen? Evidence? Any great stories involving miracles? What if they don't happen?
Your move, Darwin.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Several things on the agenda for today. First, some housekeeping issues. Second, more invigorating comments on chapel.
I would officially like to welcome John Dawson/Darwin to the discussion. Some of you may have seen this profile pop into existence yesterday, but just in case you did not, search for "John Dawson" on Facebook and become his friend. His picture is here. He also has a group, Adapt and Change, and a blog, Originally Breathed Into A Few Forms.
I do not know yet whether I should call Darwin an enemy or a friend, but I shall momentarily allow my optimistic spirit to come to the fore and entertain him as a friend. He is wrong to say that I have not presented arguments for my positions, but correct in saying that I have a tendency to be crass. [As I have said before, the sarcasm and cynicism are infused into my comments because I do not think I would have an audience otherwise. If any of you can honestly tell me that you would be reading this right now if I were simply presenting point-by-point arguments devoid of humor or otherwise stimulating comments, then I will re-think my approach. But no promises.] It will be my hope, for the present, that some meaningful conversations can be had between Darwin, myself, and many of you, the readers.
On that note, I should apologize for a few of the things I said in yesterday's post. I was wrong to characterize all Nazarene pastors in the way that I did: not all of them drive Lexuses, wear Armani, or live in gated communities. To those pastors who do not, I apologize for my unjustified attacks. However, not all Nazarene pastors are so pastoral. I think it is despicable for pastors to live lives that are exponentially more lavish than those of their congregations, so my comments still stand for those pastors [Nazarene or otherwise] who are characterized by Lexuses, Armani, and gates.
One last housekeeping detail. For those of you who posted comments on yesterday's post, I have posted a comment of my own attempting to quell some of your concerns.
And to chapel we go.
Throw up your rawkfist, if you felt it when today's band dropped it. Oh, and Ms. Anonymous Freshman Singer has some pipes. Somebody get that girl into a studio.
His Holiness presented us with his, now familiar, thoughts on "identity" for the third time today. It's amazing to me the amount of time he has managed to fill while saying so little. "We should find our identities in Christ." Great. Now tell me why. Give me an argument. I'm beginning to think we might have to wait until Palin raises her IQ above 83 for that.
"There's this woman, here, on the banner that some of you have mistaken for a one-winged angel. That wouldn't be good for anything except . . . flying in circles." *nervous laughter*
And flown in circles you have, Holiness, with your ever-redundant thoughts on the subject of identity. But who's complaining? I'll take free publicity wherever I can get it. :)
As for the finer points of the sermon, a few things require further investigation.
We were reminded today of the story contained in I Sameul 4 and 5 about the capture of the ark of the covenant by the Philistines. According to 5:2-4, "Then they carried the ark into Dagon's temple and set it beside Dagon. When the people of Ashdod rose early the next day, there was Dagon, fallen on his face on the ground before the ark of the LORD! They took Dagon and put him back in his place. But the following morning when they rose, there was Dagon, fallen on his face on the ground before the ark of the LORD! His head and hands had been broken off and were lying on the threshold; only his body remained." [NIV]
The most obvious thing that needs to be said about the above passage is that one should not assume, based on this passage, that the very presence of the ark caused the statue of Dagon to fall. If you are of the opinion that the ark possessed the powers visualized in the clip from Raiders of the Lost Ark, you have more than a little rethinking to do.
Miracles, such as the one hinted at in the above text, are trangressions of the laws of Nature. Only one problem: the laws of Nature have never been, to our knowlege, transgressed. It may be, and probably is, the case that humanity is still ignorant of some or many of Nature's operating principles. For this reason it might sometimes seem as if the laws of Nature are capable of being broken. [And we do love thinking that they can be, don't we? David Blaine, Derren Brown, David Copperfield. . . .] However, when these cases arise, what always happens is that we gather data, learn more about Nature and how it functions, and adjust our knowledge accordingly. Opening the ark of the covenant would not have melted faces any more than going to Hebrew Woodstock, and Dagon did not fall over simply because someone put a gold box in the same room. Natural causes, people, natural causes.
In the words of the late, great David Hume, "No testimony is sufficient to establish a miracle, unless the testimony be of such a kind, that its falsehood would be more miraculous, than the fact, which it endeavors to establish."
Of course, if I were one of the Israelites back in the day, I would have thoroughly enjoyed having at my disposal a holy gold box that could function as a weapon of biological warfare and an instant genocide device. "Hey guys! Let's go put the ark out in the field for the Babylonians to find when they come try to sack Jerusalem! No, seriously, it'll be hilarious." That would've come in handy. . . .
Finally, His Holiness wanted to tell us today that we sometimes allow our conceptions of God to become too limited in scope, and that we should avoid this thinking like the plague. He asserted that if we think of God as being powerless and impotent, then we might try to take things into our own hands and, as a result, wander away from the yellow brick road of holiness and salvation. I mean, yeah, that'd be terrible. You know, for us to manage our own lives and make decisions for ourselves? That would suck a big one.
What His Holiness failed to point out is that the pendulum swings the other way as well. If we begin to think of God as an all-powerful being who micromanages every aspect of everything, we're going to end up sitting on our asses praying for the same miracle for twenty years, all the while ignoring the fact that nothing is ever going to change as a result of our prayers. I don't know about you, but I don't think I need to ask God what his opinion is about which classes I should take next semester. The answer, as with most everything, is probably to be found somewhere between these extremes. "God helps those who help themselves." That'll do.
Because you all have found the discussion board thread about religious schools so intriguing, I've started another one. Miracles. Do they happen? Evidence? Any great stories involving miracles? What if they don't happen?
Your move, Darwin.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Hands and feets are all in line.
It's raining, it's pouring, I wish I could have been snoring. But I had to be in chapel.
Shit.
It was truly a blessing to have Bush's solid quarter present in chapel today. I hope the presence of their combined holiness enriched your experience as much as it did mine. [And we pretend church isn't about politics. . . .]
Honestly, I enjoyed having all the pastors present because seeing them all dressed up reminded me of all the tithe money spent buying the clothes on their backs. We're paying for their Lexuses, Armani suits, and gated-community homes, you know. Have you enjoyed their services enough to warrant an extra tip on the nightstand?
Another point of amusement came when His Holiness was guiding us through prayer [At least it wasn't a three hour tour. That's got to count for something.] at the end of the service and said something akin to, "Thanks for all the pastors who are here. It's because of them that many of us are here." Yeah. Thanks pastors for holding our hands all the way through the SNU Gate and never telling us about the four or five years of condescension, censorship, character manipulation, circular-reasoning, and unhealthy co-dependence we were fated to experience as a result of your coersion. [Make sure you fill in those blanks on your sermon notes.]
We confessed our sins again today. Three cheers for forced guilt! Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!
Mr. Whiteside did a better-than-average job leading the music today. Props also to Ms. Anonymous Freshman Pianist. The this-is-a-very-serious-service-and-you-can-tell-because-I'm-playing-this-very-emotive-music-on-my-acoustic-guitar-and-singing-breathy-harmonies-with-this-girl-who-is-playing-piano mood was made manifest.
I always find it odd when "worship songs" include lines such as, "cradled in his [Jesus'] arms." Is this really the relationship we want to have with the divine? To be helpless, screaming, crying, pissing, teat-suckling children who need Jesus to come rescue us from the Big Bad World? I should certainly hope not. And if that is the shape you want your metaphysical "marraige" to take, I must ask what you think Jesus is saving you from.
Question: where do you find the time and emotional energy to serve Jesus if your primary concern is that of walking the tightrope [that the Chuch created after Jesus died]? Can you really be a worthy follower of Jesus if you are always riddled with guilt and spending all your time and effort trying to make sure you haven't screwed the pooch in the last five minutes? More power to you, Rapunzel.
Look out! Cannibals!
Don't get me wrong, I am very glad Nazarenes aren't as ass-backward about their communion as the Catholics. I mean, I enjoy sucking on my Savior and swallowing some Jesus juice as much as the next guy, but those Catholics have a tendency to take things a little too far. . . .
Oh, and thanks, Michelson, for leaving the bullshit at the door and reminding those of us who had forgotten that there is nothing magical about the communion experience. Like the rest of our lives, the situation is deviod of meaning unless we infuse it with such. The eucharist can be a powerful symbol, but it does not possess that quality inherently.
Here's a hint.
I sat in the mezzanine today, and when everyone stood to get in line to receive communion I could not for the life of me help but think of a bunch of homeless people getting in line to receive their welfare checks. Or maybe lemmings, flocking blindly en masse toward a precipice. One of those two, I'm not sure which.
And what of those few students who chose to buck the trend and not partake of the elements? "Well, if you feel that you're not in the right place with God, then the best thing you could be doing is reflecting on your journey and not taking communion." Thanks Holiness. I'm sure the few students who simply don't agree with the practice of communion and have made considerate, thoughtful decisions about the subject appreciated your condescension and backhanded ridicule. That'll draw them into the fold for sure. [Can they expect the same treatment from the conversion classes you're peddling this semester?]
Here's a thought: from now on you should offer wine with communion, in addition to grape juice. I'll put my $5 in and bet that even the filthiest heathens would take communion then. [Hi, I'll have a tall double holiness blood with an extra shot of pious, and two home-baked body wafers, please."
Be strong; only one more day until fall break. What? We have to go to chapel tomorrow too?
Shit.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Shit.
It was truly a blessing to have Bush's solid quarter present in chapel today. I hope the presence of their combined holiness enriched your experience as much as it did mine. [And we pretend church isn't about politics. . . .]
Honestly, I enjoyed having all the pastors present because seeing them all dressed up reminded me of all the tithe money spent buying the clothes on their backs. We're paying for their Lexuses, Armani suits, and gated-community homes, you know. Have you enjoyed their services enough to warrant an extra tip on the nightstand?
Another point of amusement came when His Holiness was guiding us through prayer [At least it wasn't a three hour tour. That's got to count for something.] at the end of the service and said something akin to, "Thanks for all the pastors who are here. It's because of them that many of us are here." Yeah. Thanks pastors for holding our hands all the way through the SNU Gate and never telling us about the four or five years of condescension, censorship, character manipulation, circular-reasoning, and unhealthy co-dependence we were fated to experience as a result of your coersion. [Make sure you fill in those blanks on your sermon notes.]
We confessed our sins again today. Three cheers for forced guilt! Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!
Mr. Whiteside did a better-than-average job leading the music today. Props also to Ms. Anonymous Freshman Pianist. The this-is-a-very-serious-service-and-you-can-tell-because-I'm-playing-this-very-emotive-music-on-my-acoustic-guitar-and-singing-breathy-harmonies-with-this-girl-who-is-playing-piano mood was made manifest.
I always find it odd when "worship songs" include lines such as, "cradled in his [Jesus'] arms." Is this really the relationship we want to have with the divine? To be helpless, screaming, crying, pissing, teat-suckling children who need Jesus to come rescue us from the Big Bad World? I should certainly hope not. And if that is the shape you want your metaphysical "marraige" to take, I must ask what you think Jesus is saving you from.
Question: where do you find the time and emotional energy to serve Jesus if your primary concern is that of walking the tightrope [that the Chuch created after Jesus died]? Can you really be a worthy follower of Jesus if you are always riddled with guilt and spending all your time and effort trying to make sure you haven't screwed the pooch in the last five minutes? More power to you, Rapunzel.
Look out! Cannibals!
Don't get me wrong, I am very glad Nazarenes aren't as ass-backward about their communion as the Catholics. I mean, I enjoy sucking on my Savior and swallowing some Jesus juice as much as the next guy, but those Catholics have a tendency to take things a little too far. . . .
Oh, and thanks, Michelson, for leaving the bullshit at the door and reminding those of us who had forgotten that there is nothing magical about the communion experience. Like the rest of our lives, the situation is deviod of meaning unless we infuse it with such. The eucharist can be a powerful symbol, but it does not possess that quality inherently.
Here's a hint.
I sat in the mezzanine today, and when everyone stood to get in line to receive communion I could not for the life of me help but think of a bunch of homeless people getting in line to receive their welfare checks. Or maybe lemmings, flocking blindly en masse toward a precipice. One of those two, I'm not sure which.
And what of those few students who chose to buck the trend and not partake of the elements? "Well, if you feel that you're not in the right place with God, then the best thing you could be doing is reflecting on your journey and not taking communion." Thanks Holiness. I'm sure the few students who simply don't agree with the practice of communion and have made considerate, thoughtful decisions about the subject appreciated your condescension and backhanded ridicule. That'll draw them into the fold for sure. [Can they expect the same treatment from the conversion classes you're peddling this semester?]
Here's a thought: from now on you should offer wine with communion, in addition to grape juice. I'll put my $5 in and bet that even the filthiest heathens would take communion then. [Hi, I'll have a tall double holiness blood with an extra shot of pious, and two home-baked body wafers, please."
Be strong; only one more day until fall break. What? We have to go to chapel tomorrow too?
Shit.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
You are a sad, strange, little man. And you have my pity.
It's Wednesday. How do I know? Well, the birds are singing, the sky is clear, the grass is soft, and I was forced to sit inside a poorly-lit, musty room for an hour with the lot of you while someone droned on and on and on and on. . . .This obviously shows that SNU doesn't care about the tree-huggers.
"This is gonna be a good chapel." [And how, may I ask, would you know? Are you using your Jedi mind powers again? If the past is any indication of what is to come, your claim, good sir, is quite unfounded.]
Get ready, get set, go! *This is the part where we're listening to a better-than-average band play some better-than-average gospel music. . . .* Wait! What's happening? We're watching a lame video about the history of the Nazarene church? What the hell? Oh, and now we're going to talk about the video?! *This is the part where no one is listening to His Holiness and everyone really just wishes he would shut the hell up so that the band could play some more.* [And since when did being Nazarene matter? I thought Christians were all supposed to be one big happy family in Jesus!] What's this? Brad is not on stage and someone is still spouting nonsense? *This is the part where the band starts to play again and the singer gets back to what she's good at.* And all was right in the world.
I am completely shocked by the music this week: two full days where worship didn't suck the proverbial 'big one.' Amazing.
Here's a tip for whoever is teaching the ethos group for non-Christians: put all those sinners on a strict diet of gospel music. Mark my words, if anything is ever going to be successful as a ministry tool, it's going to be gospel music.
"Jason is going to speak now. Pay attention, because he's a very smart guy. But you really have to be listening to catch it. And he's weird. And he has a quirky sense of humor. And he has a new haircut. And he's dressed like a fifteen year old trying to negotiate his identity. And he makes pop culture references that I don't get. And he has a bucket of dirt on stage. . . ."
Thanks Brad. I'm sure Jason was very flattered.
Today, if you'll remember, the good reverend Hubbert attempted to make the point that God can take all of the "dirt" from your past and make something beautiful out of it. A good lesson, to be sure, but he didn't quite get all the way from here to there.
The scripture employed to support his thesis was from the good book of Genesis, chapter two, verse seven. "Then the Lord God formed the man from the dirt of the ground. He breathed the breath of life into the man's nostrils, and the man became a living person." Jason was correct to note the controversial nature of this text, as it is caught up in the debate [that the Church won't let die] between creationism and evolution. But oddly enough, even after making this aside, the Good Reverend proceeded to reference the text as though it were literal. Or maybe he just assumed that it had somehting to "say" to us, around 4000 years in the future. [Yeah, right. . . .] Unfortunately, the use of this text caused the Good Reverend to commit the fallacy of the high-school English teacher.
High-school English teachers are notorious for two things. First, they wear denim vests with kittens embroidered on them. Second, they have their students read books by Joseph Conrad and then write exegetical papers that extract and examine every possible shred of symbolism in the book. This would all be fine, except that The Heart of Darkness contains no symbolism. Such was the problem the Good Reverend encountered, unknowingly, today.
Genesis 2:7 served, at the time of its writing, to explain to unscientific, bronze-age sheep-herders how humans came into existence. These people did not have a scientific understanding of the natural world, thus, this explanation is necessarily little more than myth and unsubstantiated speculation. [Unless, of course, you are of the opinion that there should be a constitutional amendment restricting marriage to heterosexual couples. If that's the case then you might actually think that Genesis 1 and 2 are historical documents.] Also, people of this time and geographical location were predominantly poly-theistic and and had little or no understanding of human psychology. This makes it very unlikely that the author of Genesis 2:7 meant for the word "dirt" to be used as a metaphor to represent all of our past "sin." I'm pretty sure they just meant for "dirt" to mean dirt.
That said, the Good Reverend's trick of redefining "dirt" and using it in the metaphorical sense so that our past sins could conveniently be equated with the dirt that unknowing herdsmen suspected The Almighty of "creating" glittering, children's playthings from [props courtesy of Mattel], doesn't really work to support his argument.
Please notice that I am not saying that God does not want to, or cannot, make a beautiful Barbie doll out of the miserable, contemptible wretch that you were/are/will be. All I'm saying is that Jason's argument for that position was without merit. Oh well, maybe next semester he'll get it right.
"And God will come down and put his lips on your lips. . . ."
Aww yeah, God. That's it. You know how I like it.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
"This is gonna be a good chapel." [And how, may I ask, would you know? Are you using your Jedi mind powers again? If the past is any indication of what is to come, your claim, good sir, is quite unfounded.]
Get ready, get set, go! *This is the part where we're listening to a better-than-average band play some better-than-average gospel music. . . .* Wait! What's happening? We're watching a lame video about the history of the Nazarene church? What the hell? Oh, and now we're going to talk about the video?! *This is the part where no one is listening to His Holiness and everyone really just wishes he would shut the hell up so that the band could play some more.* [And since when did being Nazarene matter? I thought Christians were all supposed to be one big happy family in Jesus!] What's this? Brad is not on stage and someone is still spouting nonsense? *This is the part where the band starts to play again and the singer gets back to what she's good at.* And all was right in the world.
I am completely shocked by the music this week: two full days where worship didn't suck the proverbial 'big one.' Amazing.
Here's a tip for whoever is teaching the ethos group for non-Christians: put all those sinners on a strict diet of gospel music. Mark my words, if anything is ever going to be successful as a ministry tool, it's going to be gospel music.
"Jason is going to speak now. Pay attention, because he's a very smart guy. But you really have to be listening to catch it. And he's weird. And he has a quirky sense of humor. And he has a new haircut. And he's dressed like a fifteen year old trying to negotiate his identity. And he makes pop culture references that I don't get. And he has a bucket of dirt on stage. . . ."
Thanks Brad. I'm sure Jason was very flattered.
Today, if you'll remember, the good reverend Hubbert attempted to make the point that God can take all of the "dirt" from your past and make something beautiful out of it. A good lesson, to be sure, but he didn't quite get all the way from here to there.
The scripture employed to support his thesis was from the good book of Genesis, chapter two, verse seven. "Then the Lord God formed the man from the dirt of the ground. He breathed the breath of life into the man's nostrils, and the man became a living person." Jason was correct to note the controversial nature of this text, as it is caught up in the debate [that the Church won't let die] between creationism and evolution. But oddly enough, even after making this aside, the Good Reverend proceeded to reference the text as though it were literal. Or maybe he just assumed that it had somehting to "say" to us, around 4000 years in the future. [Yeah, right. . . .] Unfortunately, the use of this text caused the Good Reverend to commit the fallacy of the high-school English teacher.
High-school English teachers are notorious for two things. First, they wear denim vests with kittens embroidered on them. Second, they have their students read books by Joseph Conrad and then write exegetical papers that extract and examine every possible shred of symbolism in the book. This would all be fine, except that The Heart of Darkness contains no symbolism. Such was the problem the Good Reverend encountered, unknowingly, today.
Genesis 2:7 served, at the time of its writing, to explain to unscientific, bronze-age sheep-herders how humans came into existence. These people did not have a scientific understanding of the natural world, thus, this explanation is necessarily little more than myth and unsubstantiated speculation. [Unless, of course, you are of the opinion that there should be a constitutional amendment restricting marriage to heterosexual couples. If that's the case then you might actually think that Genesis 1 and 2 are historical documents.] Also, people of this time and geographical location were predominantly poly-theistic and and had little or no understanding of human psychology. This makes it very unlikely that the author of Genesis 2:7 meant for the word "dirt" to be used as a metaphor to represent all of our past "sin." I'm pretty sure they just meant for "dirt" to mean dirt.
That said, the Good Reverend's trick of redefining "dirt" and using it in the metaphorical sense so that our past sins could conveniently be equated with the dirt that unknowing herdsmen suspected The Almighty of "creating" glittering, children's playthings from [props courtesy of Mattel], doesn't really work to support his argument.
Please notice that I am not saying that God does not want to, or cannot, make a beautiful Barbie doll out of the miserable, contemptible wretch that you were/are/will be. All I'm saying is that Jason's argument for that position was without merit. Oh well, maybe next semester he'll get it right.
"And God will come down and put his lips on your lips. . . ."
Aww yeah, God. That's it. You know how I like it.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Chapel Talk, with Brad Strawn. But first, a brief word from our sponsors . . .
Please welcome to chapel Nancy Rizkalla. But before we get to that, a brief commercial break.
All of you non-Christians out there listen up! We have a new and exciting opportunity for you! For a limited time only we will be offering a seminar exploring the Christian faith! Don't miss out!
. . . .I'm fairly positive that any atheists or agnostics attending SNU came to the school as Christians, thought very critically about Christianity and the Church, and decided they didn't want any part of it. And for any students who are adherents to another faith system, this comes off as little more than a poorly disguised conversion class. Second betting pool: how many students will attend this ethos group? $5 buy in. My bet is on zero.
Greetings also to Asbury Lane. Don't be confused students, I know Brad introduced them as SNU's jazz combo - he likes to pretend he controls things that don't belong to him - but they owe no allegiance to the university outside of their being students. They sounded fabulous, as always.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, an interview with Nancy Rizkalla.
Grandmother Rizkalla: "Don't doubt your faith - we paid for it." Hilarious. Remember that super convincing argument from the other day?
Nancy: "I was a Christian for a week after church-camp." Weren't we all? [Of course, after a week of being ostricized we realized that living with your faith on your sleeve really isn't as appealing as they make it out to be at Jesus Camp.]
It was good to hear someone openly discuss growing in the Christian community, and do so while being very frank about their doubts. It really is quite refreshing to hear someone say, "I did not want to be a Christian," and then have them relate why they chose to believe outside of the fact that their family always has. Though, to be fair, I hardly think that spending four days as a Buddhist [what?] or almost considering atheism one time constitutes a life frought with doubt.
Let's take a small commercial break. Eco-Superheroes? Have you joined? Please, students, do your part and walk your paper over the the campus' sole recycling bin. [What recycling bin you ask? Oh, that's right, you wouldn't know because it has been hidden behind the fine arts building beside Snowbarger Hall, well out of sight and out of mind. Good job with the going green thing. . . .]
We now return to our regularly scheduled program.
I especially liked her comments on the Church's mission work. "It worries me when churches hand out Bibles in developing countries but fail to alleviate their poverty." Here you go, read this and everything will be alright. Health will fall down like manna from Heaven.
Another of my favorite things that many groups, including Christians, do when presented with a poverty situation is to throw money at the disenfranchised but refuse to invest any further in the search for a solution to the problem. Here's some news for you: throwing money at the problem doesn't fix anything. The only measure of relief that has a track record of lasting impact on poverty situations is education. No, not Bible school. I'm talking about math, science, literacy, and social skills. Sub-Saharan Africa, to take one example, does not need you to sponsor a child through Compassion International. What they need is for you to go build a school or go teach a sex-ed class for teenagers. If Christians actually took their scriptures seriously, this woudn't seem like such an outrageous suggestion. [Of course, I know I'm preaching to the choir here. It's obvious that everyone at SNU would gladly spend the first several years of their post-graduate lives working with HIV+ children in Africa.]
At the beginning of the third interview segment His Holiness said that it was "time for an Oprah moment and tears." First, Brad, the audience would have to be emotionally invested in the subject in order to tear up. Second, I am well aware of your jedi mind powers, but you will never be as formidable as Oprah.
One last thing. Nancy was not wrong to, as a young teenager, judge Christianity based on the people it produces. I think most of us would agree that Christians give themselves a bad rap much of the time. "I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians, your Christians are so unlike your Christ." [That's the Mahatma himself.] Of course, if we were really going to follow our Christ, we would not be at a Christian school, walled off from the rest of the world and insulated from any and all attacks on our faith. If Jesus came back today, something tells me he would find institutions such as ours detestible in every way.
Discussion board. What are the pros of having religious universities? Cons?
Discuss.
Apologies Matt Damon, we're out of time.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
All of you non-Christians out there listen up! We have a new and exciting opportunity for you! For a limited time only we will be offering a seminar exploring the Christian faith! Don't miss out!
. . . .I'm fairly positive that any atheists or agnostics attending SNU came to the school as Christians, thought very critically about Christianity and the Church, and decided they didn't want any part of it. And for any students who are adherents to another faith system, this comes off as little more than a poorly disguised conversion class. Second betting pool: how many students will attend this ethos group? $5 buy in. My bet is on zero.
Greetings also to Asbury Lane. Don't be confused students, I know Brad introduced them as SNU's jazz combo - he likes to pretend he controls things that don't belong to him - but they owe no allegiance to the university outside of their being students. They sounded fabulous, as always.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, an interview with Nancy Rizkalla.
Grandmother Rizkalla: "Don't doubt your faith - we paid for it." Hilarious. Remember that super convincing argument from the other day?
Nancy: "I was a Christian for a week after church-camp." Weren't we all? [Of course, after a week of being ostricized we realized that living with your faith on your sleeve really isn't as appealing as they make it out to be at Jesus Camp.]
It was good to hear someone openly discuss growing in the Christian community, and do so while being very frank about their doubts. It really is quite refreshing to hear someone say, "I did not want to be a Christian," and then have them relate why they chose to believe outside of the fact that their family always has. Though, to be fair, I hardly think that spending four days as a Buddhist [what?] or almost considering atheism one time constitutes a life frought with doubt.
Let's take a small commercial break. Eco-Superheroes? Have you joined? Please, students, do your part and walk your paper over the the campus' sole recycling bin. [What recycling bin you ask? Oh, that's right, you wouldn't know because it has been hidden behind the fine arts building beside Snowbarger Hall, well out of sight and out of mind. Good job with the going green thing. . . .]
We now return to our regularly scheduled program.
I especially liked her comments on the Church's mission work. "It worries me when churches hand out Bibles in developing countries but fail to alleviate their poverty." Here you go, read this and everything will be alright. Health will fall down like manna from Heaven.
Another of my favorite things that many groups, including Christians, do when presented with a poverty situation is to throw money at the disenfranchised but refuse to invest any further in the search for a solution to the problem. Here's some news for you: throwing money at the problem doesn't fix anything. The only measure of relief that has a track record of lasting impact on poverty situations is education. No, not Bible school. I'm talking about math, science, literacy, and social skills. Sub-Saharan Africa, to take one example, does not need you to sponsor a child through Compassion International. What they need is for you to go build a school or go teach a sex-ed class for teenagers. If Christians actually took their scriptures seriously, this woudn't seem like such an outrageous suggestion. [Of course, I know I'm preaching to the choir here. It's obvious that everyone at SNU would gladly spend the first several years of their post-graduate lives working with HIV+ children in Africa.]
At the beginning of the third interview segment His Holiness said that it was "time for an Oprah moment and tears." First, Brad, the audience would have to be emotionally invested in the subject in order to tear up. Second, I am well aware of your jedi mind powers, but you will never be as formidable as Oprah.
One last thing. Nancy was not wrong to, as a young teenager, judge Christianity based on the people it produces. I think most of us would agree that Christians give themselves a bad rap much of the time. "I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians, your Christians are so unlike your Christ." [That's the Mahatma himself.] Of course, if we were really going to follow our Christ, we would not be at a Christian school, walled off from the rest of the world and insulated from any and all attacks on our faith. If Jesus came back today, something tells me he would find institutions such as ours detestible in every way.
Discussion board. What are the pros of having religious universities? Cons?
Discuss.
Apologies Matt Damon, we're out of time.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Give kids candy, they'll do tricks.
Hump, hump, hump, hump, hump day. [That's a whole new kind of camel.]
I love it when Jason does chapel announcements. There are very few people in the world who have the innate, uncanny ability to take ten minutes to say what could be said in two and still make it entertaining. At least that's eight less minutes of sermon. . . . And I don't leave feeling the need to visit the counseling center for lowered self-esteem.
It was nice of the band to try and coordinate one of their music selections with the topic for the day. "Jesus with a tattooed arm, Jesus raising two alone. . . ." Maybe next time, though, they should pick something a little less Cheez Whiz.
You guys can go ahead and sit down now, after that standing marathon. Thanks, Jason. I'll bet the band appreciated that.
Youth in Submission.
Thank you, Rebekah, Robin, and Seth for getting up on stage and sharing your stories today. One, it's refreshing to see someone trying to work off the secretary's ass they've developed from sitting on a pew their whole lives. Two, it's nice to see that I haven't scared everyone away. [Seth . . . . miss the shirt memo?]
The only issue I took with the stories that were shared is that the students sharing seemed to be hinting at God's being involved in their fund raising efforts. Now, don't run home to your mothers and tell them that Daedalus said God doesn't care about your Youth in Submission trip. All I'm saying is that I think the fund raising can be explained and accounted for without invoking the power of the Almighty. I mean, it's not like the money magically appeared in their accounts while no one was looking.
And about the money. Here's an idea for a YIS trip: how about you guys take all the money you raise to go on your vacations to Scotland and give it to the OKC City Rescue Mission. Then, get in your cars and go find a bunch of the homeless people in Oklahoma City, Yukon, Edmond, Bethany, Moore, and Norman and fix them a nice dinner. [Please note that I said "nice dinner." Any arragement involving sack lunches or catering from Sodexho would not fulfill this requirement.] Over dinner you could give them information about job opportunities, shelters [City Rescue Mission, the Jesus House, etc.], and maybe play some table games while they tell you about their lives. Who knows, you might even learn something.
Personal reflection. I'll never forget the time I was driving south on MacArthur, about to get on I-40, and I saw a group of ten to fifteen teenagers standing in the median by the stoplight, trying to raise money for their church to go on a summer mission trip. They had signs and buckets for donations and looked very excited about the opportunity to travel abroad to "do the work of the Lord." Meanwhile, no more than one hundred feet away, a homeless man was standing in the median, the same one, with a cardboard sign informing passers-by that he hadn't eaten in several days and was in need of a little help. He was unshaven and had a tattered backpack at his feet, presumably holding everything he could call his own. No more than one hundred feet. I wonder how much money it would have cost that youth group to buy that guy a meal from McDonald's and give him a ride to a shelter downtown. I'll bet it would have been far less than the cost of their mission trip.
Also, about Youth in Submission. I especially enjoyed the part of chapel today when Mr. Missionary took the stage and tried to guilt students into giving his organization thousands of dollars so that they could get on a plane and go sight-see for a couple months overseas. [And occasionally get used for bitch-labor.] It's always entertaining to hear someone tell you that you need to "listen to the call that God is placing on your heart" and then continue, in the next sentence, to tell you exactly what that call is. I wonder if there's a YIS trip to Cabo. I really felt the Lord burdening my heart with the needs of all those tourists. [I'm sure all those celebrities in Hollywood need Jesus too. Can I please go share the love of Jesus with Topher Grace?]
Oh, and Mr. Missionary, just so you know, chapel is over at 10:50. I know you were really enjoying the sound of your own voice as it reverberated through the sleeping masses, but no one else was. So, if you ever come back to speak in chapel, please wear a watch.
I hate to say this, but right now I'd kill for another sermon on identity. These substance-less chapels are boring me.
I have posted a new discussion board thread on the Facebook group, Flying in Circles. It is titled, "Missions."
Discuss.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
I love it when Jason does chapel announcements. There are very few people in the world who have the innate, uncanny ability to take ten minutes to say what could be said in two and still make it entertaining. At least that's eight less minutes of sermon. . . . And I don't leave feeling the need to visit the counseling center for lowered self-esteem.
It was nice of the band to try and coordinate one of their music selections with the topic for the day. "Jesus with a tattooed arm, Jesus raising two alone. . . ." Maybe next time, though, they should pick something a little less Cheez Whiz.
You guys can go ahead and sit down now, after that standing marathon. Thanks, Jason. I'll bet the band appreciated that.
Youth in Submission.
Thank you, Rebekah, Robin, and Seth for getting up on stage and sharing your stories today. One, it's refreshing to see someone trying to work off the secretary's ass they've developed from sitting on a pew their whole lives. Two, it's nice to see that I haven't scared everyone away. [Seth . . . . miss the shirt memo?]
The only issue I took with the stories that were shared is that the students sharing seemed to be hinting at God's being involved in their fund raising efforts. Now, don't run home to your mothers and tell them that Daedalus said God doesn't care about your Youth in Submission trip. All I'm saying is that I think the fund raising can be explained and accounted for without invoking the power of the Almighty. I mean, it's not like the money magically appeared in their accounts while no one was looking.
And about the money. Here's an idea for a YIS trip: how about you guys take all the money you raise to go on your vacations to Scotland and give it to the OKC City Rescue Mission. Then, get in your cars and go find a bunch of the homeless people in Oklahoma City, Yukon, Edmond, Bethany, Moore, and Norman and fix them a nice dinner. [Please note that I said "nice dinner." Any arragement involving sack lunches or catering from Sodexho would not fulfill this requirement.] Over dinner you could give them information about job opportunities, shelters [City Rescue Mission, the Jesus House, etc.], and maybe play some table games while they tell you about their lives. Who knows, you might even learn something.
Personal reflection. I'll never forget the time I was driving south on MacArthur, about to get on I-40, and I saw a group of ten to fifteen teenagers standing in the median by the stoplight, trying to raise money for their church to go on a summer mission trip. They had signs and buckets for donations and looked very excited about the opportunity to travel abroad to "do the work of the Lord." Meanwhile, no more than one hundred feet away, a homeless man was standing in the median, the same one, with a cardboard sign informing passers-by that he hadn't eaten in several days and was in need of a little help. He was unshaven and had a tattered backpack at his feet, presumably holding everything he could call his own. No more than one hundred feet. I wonder how much money it would have cost that youth group to buy that guy a meal from McDonald's and give him a ride to a shelter downtown. I'll bet it would have been far less than the cost of their mission trip.
Also, about Youth in Submission. I especially enjoyed the part of chapel today when Mr. Missionary took the stage and tried to guilt students into giving his organization thousands of dollars so that they could get on a plane and go sight-see for a couple months overseas. [And occasionally get used for bitch-labor.] It's always entertaining to hear someone tell you that you need to "listen to the call that God is placing on your heart" and then continue, in the next sentence, to tell you exactly what that call is. I wonder if there's a YIS trip to Cabo. I really felt the Lord burdening my heart with the needs of all those tourists. [I'm sure all those celebrities in Hollywood need Jesus too. Can I please go share the love of Jesus with Topher Grace?]
Oh, and Mr. Missionary, just so you know, chapel is over at 10:50. I know you were really enjoying the sound of your own voice as it reverberated through the sleeping masses, but no one else was. So, if you ever come back to speak in chapel, please wear a watch.
I hate to say this, but right now I'd kill for another sermon on identity. These substance-less chapels are boring me.
I have posted a new discussion board thread on the Facebook group, Flying in Circles. It is titled, "Missions."
Discuss.
"Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
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