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
Showing posts with label SNU. Show all posts
Showing posts with label SNU. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
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
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
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Welcome back, your dreams were your ticket out...
Welcome to Tuesday, SNU chapel fans.
I'm sure you're all revved up for the new semester after that invigorating service this morning.
Some of you may have noticed there are a few new policies in chapel. Highlights include the new sign-in policy - as if it wasn't torturous enough that we have to wait in a DPS line at the end of chapel, we're now expected to show up 30 minutes early to ensure we get credit. Good thinking. I'm sure locking the doors after chapel has begun wouldn't have covered all the late students. Oh, and good job with the flyers about chapel being a "sacred space." It really helps SNU become more of a green campus when we waste reams of paper printing out bulletins of completely useless information. Leave it to our administrators to take away decades of technical advancements in order to spread news in an archaic fashion. E-mail. Use it. That way we can trash your pointless message without destroying our living space.
And a big round of applause to our new aisle monitors. It feels fantastic to be back in Kindergarten. I can't wait for nap-time and animal crackers. Maybe if I have to tinkle tomorrow someone will help me with my Osh Kosh overalls.
This space will usually be used to make enlightening and, at times, sarcastic comments on chapel sermons, especially invigorating music selections, campus events, and any other observations I happen across. However, today, as it will undoubtedly be with most of the other chapels we shall be blessed with throughout the remainder of the semester, nothing of any value was said...shocker...leaving me with nothing to comment on.
Except for the banner.
As it has been for the past two years, we have new decor. A precious gem dangling between the trusses. 2006's stained [plexi]glass was a monumental . . . . . waste of 10K. 2007 saw the rise of inane phrases and the Now and Not Yet Kingdom of theological dead ends, rambling, and general bullshit.
Now dawns the era of the one-winged man: our very own Icarus, if you will. This lovely new tapestry accomplishes two things. First, it allows the powers that be to continue to think of themselves as postmodern prophets, ushering in a new era of spiritual righteousness at our beloved institution. Second, it foretells the path of the coming semester: we will continue, as always, flying in circles.
"When is a bird a bird?" ...how about all the damn time?! Yep. Our esteemed reverend really laid an egg with that one. Excuse me if I'm missing some deep seeded meaning here, but I simply cannot find justification for turning this otherwise completely obvious query into an investigation of identity. For most Christians, the next question in this vein is, "What was I created for?" Good luck figuring that one out. How about instead of wasting a lifetime on an unanswerable question we just resolve that the question is irrelevant?
And thank you, Brad, for letting us know that we ought to make our identity that of Christ Jesus. It's a comfort to know I won't have to waste the next few years of my life figuring out my identity on my own terms. Heaven forbid I use the brain that "god gave me."
Worship was especially Maldotastic today, much to the pleasure of Brad, I'm sure. Delightfully they gained ground by singing "I love you, Daddy," a phrase that, until this morning, was saved for abused step-children and pornos. Props, worship team.
"Icarus, my son, I charge you to keep at a moderate height, for if you fly too low the damp will clog your wings, and if too high the heat will melt them. Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
I'm sure you're all revved up for the new semester after that invigorating service this morning.
Some of you may have noticed there are a few new policies in chapel. Highlights include the new sign-in policy - as if it wasn't torturous enough that we have to wait in a DPS line at the end of chapel, we're now expected to show up 30 minutes early to ensure we get credit. Good thinking. I'm sure locking the doors after chapel has begun wouldn't have covered all the late students. Oh, and good job with the flyers about chapel being a "sacred space." It really helps SNU become more of a green campus when we waste reams of paper printing out bulletins of completely useless information. Leave it to our administrators to take away decades of technical advancements in order to spread news in an archaic fashion. E-mail. Use it. That way we can trash your pointless message without destroying our living space.
And a big round of applause to our new aisle monitors. It feels fantastic to be back in Kindergarten. I can't wait for nap-time and animal crackers. Maybe if I have to tinkle tomorrow someone will help me with my Osh Kosh overalls.
This space will usually be used to make enlightening and, at times, sarcastic comments on chapel sermons, especially invigorating music selections, campus events, and any other observations I happen across. However, today, as it will undoubtedly be with most of the other chapels we shall be blessed with throughout the remainder of the semester, nothing of any value was said...shocker...leaving me with nothing to comment on.
Except for the banner.
As it has been for the past two years, we have new decor. A precious gem dangling between the trusses. 2006's stained [plexi]glass was a monumental . . . . . waste of 10K. 2007 saw the rise of inane phrases and the Now and Not Yet Kingdom of theological dead ends, rambling, and general bullshit.
Now dawns the era of the one-winged man: our very own Icarus, if you will. This lovely new tapestry accomplishes two things. First, it allows the powers that be to continue to think of themselves as postmodern prophets, ushering in a new era of spiritual righteousness at our beloved institution. Second, it foretells the path of the coming semester: we will continue, as always, flying in circles.
"When is a bird a bird?" ...how about all the damn time?! Yep. Our esteemed reverend really laid an egg with that one. Excuse me if I'm missing some deep seeded meaning here, but I simply cannot find justification for turning this otherwise completely obvious query into an investigation of identity. For most Christians, the next question in this vein is, "What was I created for?" Good luck figuring that one out. How about instead of wasting a lifetime on an unanswerable question we just resolve that the question is irrelevant?
And thank you, Brad, for letting us know that we ought to make our identity that of Christ Jesus. It's a comfort to know I won't have to waste the next few years of my life figuring out my identity on my own terms. Heaven forbid I use the brain that "god gave me."
Worship was especially Maldotastic today, much to the pleasure of Brad, I'm sure. Delightfully they gained ground by singing "I love you, Daddy," a phrase that, until this morning, was saved for abused step-children and pornos. Props, worship team.
"Icarus, my son, I charge you to keep at a moderate height, for if you fly too low the damp will clog your wings, and if too high the heat will melt them. Keep near me and you will be safe."
Daedalus
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