These are the days of thoughtcrime.

Ah, Wednesday...Double holiness day here at SNU: chapel in the morning and an empty campus in the evening because we're all at church. Little do they know....

First, a response. In preparation for these next comments, it would be good for you to read the second and third comments on yesterday's post.

Jbeezy seems a little worried about the exact definition of "sin." The problem here, as some of the more intellectually astute among you may have realized, is that "sin" is not easily, if it can be at all, qualified. Some traditions define "sin" as trespassing on the laws of their divine while others expand the operational scope of "sin" to include transgressions against humanity. To some, "sin" is commited in action, to others, the crime exists only in thought. [Which, if I do say so myself, is rather Orwellian.] Regardless of how you choose to define "sin," the concept is not one that can be easily nailed down.

So, when we are encouraged by whatever esteemed orator we happen to be listening to in chapel to "confess our sins before God," I get a little confused about what exactly they are attempting to say. I suppose it could reasonably be assumed that the definition of "sin" expounded on our campus would follow a Biblical delineation, but even that is vague at best. So when I am confronted with the charge that I am pretending to be too holy by claiming not to have "sinned," [which is not what I said] or when I am asked to define "sin," I can respond in the same way. "I'm not sure exactly what you are saying."

Enough psychobabble, on to chapel.

This morning's chapel marked the long awaited return of...drumroll please...the Godfather of Soul himself, James Brown. [Ow! I feel good!] Oh, wait. Not that James Brown. Damn. All I really need to say here is that, "These are the days of Elijah." Yep. [Just to clarify, in case JBeezy is still wondering, if there is sin in the world, the foremost example of it was the authorship of that song.]

I also especially enjoyed the overtly brooding rendition of a Negro Spiritual we were treated to this morning. [Please, sweet chariot, swing lo and carry James home.] Apparently Ben Folds is not the only one who can show us what it's like to be male, middle-class, and white. Next time you perform please sing "Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen." I'm sure no one can understand the sorrow of a suburbanite like you.

Oh, by the way. I heard you singing. You sounded great. And God liked it too. [ha ha ha]

A letter:

Dear Mr. Gibson,

Please stop telling me how to do my job. If this trend continues the next time you are asked to speak in chapel, I will shoot you with a bb gun from the tech booth.

Love,
The Video Tech

A challenge:

Reverand Gibson, I hereby challenge you to take the stage in chapel and preach a sermon that the students in attendance have not already heard fifty times. I challenge you to move beyond the hell-raising and condemnation perpetuated by preachers of your father's generation and actually push people to grow in their spiritual lives. I challenge you to have an original thought. I challenge you to think more deeply about why an individual ought to commit their life to Christ and actually provide support, beyond the assertion that humans are inherently broken, sinful, and weak, for your argument. I challenge you to a walk-off. [Age before beauty, goat cheese.]

Your spiel today reminded of a scene from Mean Girls. You just need Jesus. Ok? Everybody take some rubbers.

The wax is melting.

"Keep near me and you will be safe."

Daedalus