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?
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