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?