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
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
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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