Hello there, remember me?
Well this has been one Hell of a semester, let me tell you. But then, I suppose I don't have to tell you. I've been gone for more than two months. I imagine it was pretty obvious that this was a crazy time. I should have known it was going to be this way when it took me three trips to get all my books for the semester. And papers, and papers, and papers....I went through 7 ink cartridges this semester. I guess it was worth it since I had my best grad school semester yet: 3.8 GPA. I'll take it.
Anyway, all that is behind me now...until it begins again in January. I do feel I owe everyone an apology. Here I promised to spend more time on the blog and I ended up staying away for the longest absence yet. I didn't even rant and rave in a post-election celebration post! I was a little busy with a bottle of Pinot Grigio that night. Well, it seems a little odd to do that now, so let's just say that it is probably fairly obvious that we in this house are ecstatic. And Florida...that was a sweet, sweet victory. For all the obvious reasons.
I will try harder next semester, I promise. But here's a dose of reality: I have to finish my Integrative Paper, and three of my four classes are Graduate Division of Religion (that is PhD) classes. Because I wasn't abused and overworked enough this fall, I felt I needed more for the spring.
Well, my dear friends, I will try to stop in a few more times during the break, but we will be gone more than we will be home. Off to Jamaica for the first week in January! And it seems a little unsavory to be sitting by the clothing-optional pool at Hedonism and blogging about Seminary. Hmmm...then again...maybe I will take my laptop after all!!
Best wishes to you all for a Merry Christmas, St. Stephen's Day, Michael Mass, Blessed Yule, Happy Hanukkah, and whatever else you weird people of faith celebrate! And Happy Kwanzaa and Happy New Year!
11.10.08
Random Musing
So, I've been trying to get a group from Seminary together to go see "Religulous." So far, no luck. I can't imagine why...I can't believe some theatres in this area actually have the balls to screen it.
Random Musing
Driving through the neighbourhoods I have noticed a disturbing trend. The rattiest looking, most economically depressed streets are littered with McCain/Palin signs. Once again, voting against one's interests seems to be the hip thing in this area. To top it all off, the house on the corner has a "Ten Commandments" yard sign. Who needs a job when you've got Jesus? I have known this for quite some time, but it is really starting to feel urgent: We have to get the fuck out of here. Soon.
Sermon of the Week
Are you lost?
Turn in here
We have directions
Ask for "Jesus"
No, thanks. I have a road atlas. It's called education.
Turn in here
We have directions
Ask for "Jesus"
No, thanks. I have a road atlas. It's called education.
1.10.08
Happy Anniversary! A few days late...
So, o.k. I promised a special anniversary posting on the actual anniversary, which was last Friday. And here it is the following Wednesday already. I've been busy!! And sick. Ah, yes...fall is here. Time for six cups of coffee in the morning, a Lunesta in the evening, late-night reading, last-minute paper finishing, bitching about professors who still insist on busy work in graduate school, and of course popping zinc lozenges like they were white crosses. (Anyone know where I can get some of those, by the way?) I'm kidding. For now.
Anyhoo, here we are one year later. What have I learned? A lot. Let's review:
1.) Graduate school is not the last bastion of intelligence, erudition, and sophistication I hoped it would be. It seems ignorance and naivete still thrive in one of the top-ranked universities in the country.
2.) Even the most liberal-minded Christians can still be intolerant and hypocritical, or moony-eyed, irrational whack-jobs who define themselves within a world that bears no resemblance to reality.
3.) Despite the personal beliefs of the students and some faculty members, relativism, as a modus operandi, is alive and well in the practicum and contextual education of this seminary. I've been a keen observer for a year now (not to mention being raised Methodist) and I still have no idea what it is exactly we are supposed to believe.
4.) Developing deep bonds with new friends and colleagues can happen in the most unexpected moments, and in less than a heartbeat. Some days truly have been grace-filled, and these are the days that take my breath away.
5.) I belong in academia; I have found my home.
6.) I have found more strength and intelligence than I expected to find within me. And I'm the only one who seems surprised by this. Classmates and professors alike look to me for advice and opinions. And, apparently, I'm discussed in the faculty lounge and other places. My reputation precedes me, and this time it's a good thing.
7.) Undergrads keep getting younger and more obnoxious with each passing semester.
8.) And, therefore, I do not want to be a professor. I just finished applying to San Jose State University's Master of Library and Information Science program. If you're looking for me, try the Stacks. Or Rare Books.
9.) The need for a PhD is becoming less urgent. Maybe I'm tired. Maybe I'm satisfied with what I'm doing and the respect I have gained. Maybe I thought those three little letters were the only way towards validation, and I have since learned otherwise. If that turned out to be my only motivation for earning a PhD, just to prove something, that would have been a huge mistake.
10.) I am no longer very interested in what I thought I would be teaching and researching the rest of my life. Another reason for not pursuing the PhD right away, perhaps. I'm just not that sure about what I want to study anymore.
11.) I have found other sources of interest that I never considered before: Afro-Caribbean religions, Diaspora Studies, World Religions and Sufism, to name a few. I have far too many sources of fascination to be happy with the very narrow scope of a doctoral dissertation. So, can I be happy without the "Dr." thing? We shall see.
I am sure there are more things I have learned, and certainly more things I will learn. So, stay tuned for the big Graduation Special! I'll come up with a better list by then.
In the meantime, I have had several people tell me I should turn this into a novel and try to have it published. I agree! So, here is what I need you to do, dear readers: Tell your friends about the blog. Have them visit. Create buzz. I have no way of determining the number of hits to the site except to see how many people have viewed my profile. I know it isn't very detailed, and we all know why that is! But if people visit, make sure they click on the profile so their visit is counted. I'm thinking of starting my own covert marketing campaign. There are far too many bulletin boards on campus not to take advantage of them.
Increased readership also means a greater obligation on my part. If you make the commitment to tell your friends, and they visit, and you all demonstrate your interest in this blog and your support for me, I will continue to deliver the goods, and try to get here more often. Which means I desperately need to find a replacement for Jane and John Godley! Perhaps I should post an ad:
Cynical, acerbic seminary student seeks Evangelical couple for comic relief and mockery. Not terribly bright, self-righteousness a must. Prefer All-American and cheerleader types. No geeks, please.
Hmmm...perhaps not. I'll have to think about it.
So, o.k. I promised a special anniversary posting on the actual anniversary, which was last Friday. And here it is the following Wednesday already. I've been busy!! And sick. Ah, yes...fall is here. Time for six cups of coffee in the morning, a Lunesta in the evening, late-night reading, last-minute paper finishing, bitching about professors who still insist on busy work in graduate school, and of course popping zinc lozenges like they were white crosses. (Anyone know where I can get some of those, by the way?) I'm kidding. For now.
Anyhoo, here we are one year later. What have I learned? A lot. Let's review:
1.) Graduate school is not the last bastion of intelligence, erudition, and sophistication I hoped it would be. It seems ignorance and naivete still thrive in one of the top-ranked universities in the country.
2.) Even the most liberal-minded Christians can still be intolerant and hypocritical, or moony-eyed, irrational whack-jobs who define themselves within a world that bears no resemblance to reality.
3.) Despite the personal beliefs of the students and some faculty members, relativism, as a modus operandi, is alive and well in the practicum and contextual education of this seminary. I've been a keen observer for a year now (not to mention being raised Methodist) and I still have no idea what it is exactly we are supposed to believe.
4.) Developing deep bonds with new friends and colleagues can happen in the most unexpected moments, and in less than a heartbeat. Some days truly have been grace-filled, and these are the days that take my breath away.
5.) I belong in academia; I have found my home.
6.) I have found more strength and intelligence than I expected to find within me. And I'm the only one who seems surprised by this. Classmates and professors alike look to me for advice and opinions. And, apparently, I'm discussed in the faculty lounge and other places. My reputation precedes me, and this time it's a good thing.
7.) Undergrads keep getting younger and more obnoxious with each passing semester.
8.) And, therefore, I do not want to be a professor. I just finished applying to San Jose State University's Master of Library and Information Science program. If you're looking for me, try the Stacks. Or Rare Books.
9.) The need for a PhD is becoming less urgent. Maybe I'm tired. Maybe I'm satisfied with what I'm doing and the respect I have gained. Maybe I thought those three little letters were the only way towards validation, and I have since learned otherwise. If that turned out to be my only motivation for earning a PhD, just to prove something, that would have been a huge mistake.
10.) I am no longer very interested in what I thought I would be teaching and researching the rest of my life. Another reason for not pursuing the PhD right away, perhaps. I'm just not that sure about what I want to study anymore.
11.) I have found other sources of interest that I never considered before: Afro-Caribbean religions, Diaspora Studies, World Religions and Sufism, to name a few. I have far too many sources of fascination to be happy with the very narrow scope of a doctoral dissertation. So, can I be happy without the "Dr." thing? We shall see.
I am sure there are more things I have learned, and certainly more things I will learn. So, stay tuned for the big Graduation Special! I'll come up with a better list by then.
In the meantime, I have had several people tell me I should turn this into a novel and try to have it published. I agree! So, here is what I need you to do, dear readers: Tell your friends about the blog. Have them visit. Create buzz. I have no way of determining the number of hits to the site except to see how many people have viewed my profile. I know it isn't very detailed, and we all know why that is! But if people visit, make sure they click on the profile so their visit is counted. I'm thinking of starting my own covert marketing campaign. There are far too many bulletin boards on campus not to take advantage of them.
Increased readership also means a greater obligation on my part. If you make the commitment to tell your friends, and they visit, and you all demonstrate your interest in this blog and your support for me, I will continue to deliver the goods, and try to get here more often. Which means I desperately need to find a replacement for Jane and John Godley! Perhaps I should post an ad:
Cynical, acerbic seminary student seeks Evangelical couple for comic relief and mockery. Not terribly bright, self-righteousness a must. Prefer All-American and cheerleader types. No geeks, please.
Hmmm...perhaps not. I'll have to think about it.
17.9.08
In the thick of things:
Hello dear readers. Thank you for being patient while I get myself adjusted to my new schedule and classes. Also, I have been putting off writing a post until I was certain as to the status of Jane and John Godley. Sadly, I have not seen them, and classes have been back in session for nearly three weeks now. They aren't in any of my classes, and I have yet to identify suitable replacements for them. Actually, most of my classmates in all of my classes seem pretty cool. Dammit. Who will I pick on now?! It would seem as though all the airheads and dodo birds have graduated and/or left. Or, perhaps I'm just becoming more tolerant of, or resigned to, their presence. Maybe I'm numb or oblivious. Maybe I just don't give a shit anymore. I have more important things to worry about just now.
I will be swamped this semester. I'm working on my big integrative paper (instead of a thesis, but serves the same purpose...i.e. getting me out of here), I have lots of reading and lots of papers and/or projects in all my other classes, I will soon begin applying to Masters in Library Science programs, I am working in the Rare Books Library on campus, and, idiot/masochist that I am, I may be accepting a position as a research assistant to one of the seminary professors this Friday. I suppose I'll sleep when I'm dead.
Check back for my big anniversary special on the 26th! Or, maybe the 27th...or 28th...
Hello dear readers. Thank you for being patient while I get myself adjusted to my new schedule and classes. Also, I have been putting off writing a post until I was certain as to the status of Jane and John Godley. Sadly, I have not seen them, and classes have been back in session for nearly three weeks now. They aren't in any of my classes, and I have yet to identify suitable replacements for them. Actually, most of my classmates in all of my classes seem pretty cool. Dammit. Who will I pick on now?! It would seem as though all the airheads and dodo birds have graduated and/or left. Or, perhaps I'm just becoming more tolerant of, or resigned to, their presence. Maybe I'm numb or oblivious. Maybe I just don't give a shit anymore. I have more important things to worry about just now.
I will be swamped this semester. I'm working on my big integrative paper (instead of a thesis, but serves the same purpose...i.e. getting me out of here), I have lots of reading and lots of papers and/or projects in all my other classes, I will soon begin applying to Masters in Library Science programs, I am working in the Rare Books Library on campus, and, idiot/masochist that I am, I may be accepting a position as a research assistant to one of the seminary professors this Friday. I suppose I'll sleep when I'm dead.
Check back for my big anniversary special on the 26th! Or, maybe the 27th...or 28th...
22.8.08
Sermon of the Week
Well, this church sure is on a roll. This is the same one that brought us A.S.A.P. last week:
"Our Church is Prayer Conditioned."
I'm so tempted to go just to get a look at this guy, and hear what he has to say. And it is a guy. The church is Southern Baptist. Women aren't allowed to have thoughts or opinions, let alone lead a flock.
Footnote:
It wasn't always that way. In fact, the SBC amended its bylaws to exclude women from ordination in just the last couple of years. But nearly a hundred years ago a great aunt of mine was a Southern Baptist preacher. This church, like religion in general the world over, seems to be regressing. This is a common phenomenon in times of uncertainty, and that is a shame. Because a woman's voice might be just the thing we need...
"Our Church is Prayer Conditioned."
I'm so tempted to go just to get a look at this guy, and hear what he has to say. And it is a guy. The church is Southern Baptist. Women aren't allowed to have thoughts or opinions, let alone lead a flock.
Footnote:
It wasn't always that way. In fact, the SBC amended its bylaws to exclude women from ordination in just the last couple of years. But nearly a hundred years ago a great aunt of mine was a Southern Baptist preacher. This church, like religion in general the world over, seems to be regressing. This is a common phenomenon in times of uncertainty, and that is a shame. Because a woman's voice might be just the thing we need...
20.8.08
Quotables
Shades of Liberation Theology nearly a century before Bonhoeffer
Having thus acknowledged what I owe those who have aided and approved me, I turn to another class, a small one, so far as I know, but not, therefore, to be overlooked. I mean the timorous or carping few who doubt the tendency of such books as "Jane Eyre": in whose eyes whatever is unusual is wrong; whose ears detect in each protest against bigotry - that parent of crime - an insult to piety, that regent of God on earth. I would suggest to such doubters certain obvious distinctions; I would remind them of certain simple truths.
Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion. To attack the first is not to assail the last. To pluck the mask from the face of the Pharisee, is not to lift an impious hand to the Crown of Thorns.
These things and deeds are diametrically opposed: they are as distinct as is vice from virtue. Men too often confound them; they should not be confounded: appearance should not be mistaken for truth; narrow human doctrines, that only tend to elate and magnify a few, should not be substituted for the world-redeeming creed of Christ. There is - I repeat - a difference; and it is a good, and not a bad action to mark broadly and clearly the line of separation between them.
The world may not like to see these ideas dissevered, for it has been accustomed to blend them; finding it convenient to make external show pass for sterling worth - to let white-washed walls vouch for clean shrines. It may hate him who dares to scrutinise and expose - to rase the gilding, and show base metal under it - to penetrate the sepulchre, and reveal charnel relics: but, hate as it will, is indebted to him.
Ahab did not like Micaiah, because he never prophesied good concerning him, but evil: probably he liked the sycophant son of Chenaanah better; yet might Ahab have escaped a bloody death, had he but stopped his ears to flattery, and opened them to faithful counsel.
--Charlotte Bronte, excerpt from "Author's Preface" to the second edition of Jane Eyre, 21 December 1847
Having thus acknowledged what I owe those who have aided and approved me, I turn to another class, a small one, so far as I know, but not, therefore, to be overlooked. I mean the timorous or carping few who doubt the tendency of such books as "Jane Eyre": in whose eyes whatever is unusual is wrong; whose ears detect in each protest against bigotry - that parent of crime - an insult to piety, that regent of God on earth. I would suggest to such doubters certain obvious distinctions; I would remind them of certain simple truths.
Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion. To attack the first is not to assail the last. To pluck the mask from the face of the Pharisee, is not to lift an impious hand to the Crown of Thorns.
These things and deeds are diametrically opposed: they are as distinct as is vice from virtue. Men too often confound them; they should not be confounded: appearance should not be mistaken for truth; narrow human doctrines, that only tend to elate and magnify a few, should not be substituted for the world-redeeming creed of Christ. There is - I repeat - a difference; and it is a good, and not a bad action to mark broadly and clearly the line of separation between them.
The world may not like to see these ideas dissevered, for it has been accustomed to blend them; finding it convenient to make external show pass for sterling worth - to let white-washed walls vouch for clean shrines. It may hate him who dares to scrutinise and expose - to rase the gilding, and show base metal under it - to penetrate the sepulchre, and reveal charnel relics: but, hate as it will, is indebted to him.
Ahab did not like Micaiah, because he never prophesied good concerning him, but evil: probably he liked the sycophant son of Chenaanah better; yet might Ahab have escaped a bloody death, had he but stopped his ears to flattery, and opened them to faithful counsel.
--Charlotte Bronte, excerpt from "Author's Preface" to the second edition of Jane Eyre, 21 December 1847
12.8.08
Sermon of the Week
"Heaven, don't miss it for the world!"
O.K. Here's what I know. I know the world exists and that I am a part of it. Heaven...not a freakin' clue and I have some serious doubts. So I will continue to live my life in this world as I see fit and not deny myself any pleasures regarded as "sinful" on the off-chance there will be a great reward AFTER I'M DEAD.
And as if that weren't bad enough, this one appeared just a few miles down the road:
"A.S.A.P. - Always Say A Prayer"
No comment.
O.K. Here's what I know. I know the world exists and that I am a part of it. Heaven...not a freakin' clue and I have some serious doubts. So I will continue to live my life in this world as I see fit and not deny myself any pleasures regarded as "sinful" on the off-chance there will be a great reward AFTER I'M DEAD.
And as if that weren't bad enough, this one appeared just a few miles down the road:
"A.S.A.P. - Always Say A Prayer"
No comment.
5.8.08
I'm baaaaack!!
Wow, I've been gone a long time. Summer break has been lovely. I've been keeping myself busy with the usual summer vacation stuff: family trips, minor home repairs, catching up on non-mandatory reading. But I realized I never posted an end-of-semester message. Sorry about that. I meant to, but the days just slipped by. I have less than a month to go before classes start again, and I'll be back in full force, I'm sure, with lots of hilarity, insanity, and the further exploits of Jane and John Godley. I hope they haven't graduated. I think they were second year MDivs which means they'll still have one more year. Which also means I'll be graduating with them, and I'll get a good look at their families. Yes, of course I will share that with you! If they have graduated, this blog will truly suck. I'll need to find some replacements quickly. Somehow I don't think that will be a problem, though...
Last week, I even endured an hour of a Presbyterian minister yelling at me (well, not just me) for the sake of my nephew's baptism. Poor boy. He did well, though. He has this downright mean look he can pull, and he loves to do it, but he did fine with the water. I was amazed. I thought he would scream in a Linda Blair-like fit as if it were burning him or something. But he laughed. And then he wanted to splash in the baptismal font. Go figure. What was really funny was watching my in-laws (who are Catholic) endure the Presbyterian service. Especially my husband's grandmother, who was raised in Poland long before Vatican II and probably still believes, as she was taught as a little girl, that even entering a Protestant church guarantees a direct flight to Hell. I was sitting in the pew behind her and could feel the tension radiating off her. It was all I could do to keep a straight face.
Well, I guess that's all the news that's fit to print for now. I'm just gearing up for the semester, and getting ready for my book-buying spree. I don't even have one inch to spare on any bookshelf in this house. And I have no room in this house for another bookcase. I need to do some reshuffling. I think some fiction and other non-essentials will have to be exiled to the storage unit for the duration. Yes, it's climate controlled. I will not commit bibliocide. I promise. I think I'll go back-to-school shopping today. I need some new clothes. All my stuff from last year is soooo....well, last year. I don't want to look like a dork. All the other girls will laugh at me! Ugh...there is not enough money in the world to convince me to go back to a time and a place (like high school) where any of that shit would matter. I'm really liking my 30's. It's a good time to be a woman. Definitely.
Wow, I've been gone a long time. Summer break has been lovely. I've been keeping myself busy with the usual summer vacation stuff: family trips, minor home repairs, catching up on non-mandatory reading. But I realized I never posted an end-of-semester message. Sorry about that. I meant to, but the days just slipped by. I have less than a month to go before classes start again, and I'll be back in full force, I'm sure, with lots of hilarity, insanity, and the further exploits of Jane and John Godley. I hope they haven't graduated. I think they were second year MDivs which means they'll still have one more year. Which also means I'll be graduating with them, and I'll get a good look at their families. Yes, of course I will share that with you! If they have graduated, this blog will truly suck. I'll need to find some replacements quickly. Somehow I don't think that will be a problem, though...
Last week, I even endured an hour of a Presbyterian minister yelling at me (well, not just me) for the sake of my nephew's baptism. Poor boy. He did well, though. He has this downright mean look he can pull, and he loves to do it, but he did fine with the water. I was amazed. I thought he would scream in a Linda Blair-like fit as if it were burning him or something. But he laughed. And then he wanted to splash in the baptismal font. Go figure. What was really funny was watching my in-laws (who are Catholic) endure the Presbyterian service. Especially my husband's grandmother, who was raised in Poland long before Vatican II and probably still believes, as she was taught as a little girl, that even entering a Protestant church guarantees a direct flight to Hell. I was sitting in the pew behind her and could feel the tension radiating off her. It was all I could do to keep a straight face.
Well, I guess that's all the news that's fit to print for now. I'm just gearing up for the semester, and getting ready for my book-buying spree. I don't even have one inch to spare on any bookshelf in this house. And I have no room in this house for another bookcase. I need to do some reshuffling. I think some fiction and other non-essentials will have to be exiled to the storage unit for the duration. Yes, it's climate controlled. I will not commit bibliocide. I promise. I think I'll go back-to-school shopping today. I need some new clothes. All my stuff from last year is soooo....well, last year. I don't want to look like a dork. All the other girls will laugh at me! Ugh...there is not enough money in the world to convince me to go back to a time and a place (like high school) where any of that shit would matter. I'm really liking my 30's. It's a good time to be a woman. Definitely.
8.5.08
Sermon of the Week
Another one courtesy of my mother:
"God says, 'get an Afterlife.'"
Footnote:
This could be a really fun multi-state collection, but that would mean enabling the e-mail feature on this blog, and frankly I just don't want to hear from all the whack jobs out there who will feel compelled to inform me I'm going to Hell. This is my refuge. This is where I get to express my opinions without having to endure the inane rhetoric of the "overly-religious." Not fair, I know. But to quote the mother of a childhood friend: "Fair is a four letter word found only in the dictionary. It does not apply to life." I didn't like that statement when I was a kid. I love it now.
So there.
"God says, 'get an Afterlife.'"
Footnote:
This could be a really fun multi-state collection, but that would mean enabling the e-mail feature on this blog, and frankly I just don't want to hear from all the whack jobs out there who will feel compelled to inform me I'm going to Hell. This is my refuge. This is where I get to express my opinions without having to endure the inane rhetoric of the "overly-religious." Not fair, I know. But to quote the mother of a childhood friend: "Fair is a four letter word found only in the dictionary. It does not apply to life." I didn't like that statement when I was a kid. I love it now.
So there.
3.5.08
Sermon of the Week
"Have you thanked God today?"
No comment.
And, compliments of my mother:
"Even Jesus had fish stories."
Yes...she lives on the Gulf Coast of Florida...
No comment.
And, compliments of my mother:
"Even Jesus had fish stories."
Yes...she lives on the Gulf Coast of Florida...
22.4.08
Kids in the Hall
"Have you finished your paper yet?"
"No, but I'm praying."
Maybe if you had done more writing and less praying you would have finished your paper by now. Just a thought.
"No, but I'm praying."
Maybe if you had done more writing and less praying you would have finished your paper by now. Just a thought.
21.4.08
Sermon of the Week
"Jesus is the Answer."
O.K....what's the question? I guess you have to go to find out. No thanks. I'll pass. I like it when some things remain a mystery.
O.K....what's the question? I guess you have to go to find out. No thanks. I'll pass. I like it when some things remain a mystery.
Pointed Rant
Second Class Citizens:
I registered for fall classes last week. I managed to get a couple of my first choices, but then had to settle for a couple of my second choices. It would be nice if the MTS students who only have two more semesters could have priority registration, but no. The earliest times are reserved for the MDiv students who's program is three years, not two as ours is. And judging by what I've witnessed so far, they could use the extra year...or four.
This is not just me. Apparently this is a perennial gripe of MTS students here. And lately there has been a rumor swirling about that they are considering discontinuing the MTS program altogether. Well, sometimes it seems like they are doing everything they can to inconvenience, irritate, and drive us away. We are the minority by a wide margin. But still...we pay the same tuition and we are here because we want to be here, which is more than I can say for many of the MDiv students who seem to resent having to be here and endure all the unorthodox hoopla in order to become Methodist ministers. Well, if it's just so damned awful, find another denomination. There are plenty of churches around where the pastor hasn't even graduated from high school.
I registered for fall classes last week. I managed to get a couple of my first choices, but then had to settle for a couple of my second choices. It would be nice if the MTS students who only have two more semesters could have priority registration, but no. The earliest times are reserved for the MDiv students who's program is three years, not two as ours is. And judging by what I've witnessed so far, they could use the extra year...or four.
This is not just me. Apparently this is a perennial gripe of MTS students here. And lately there has been a rumor swirling about that they are considering discontinuing the MTS program altogether. Well, sometimes it seems like they are doing everything they can to inconvenience, irritate, and drive us away. We are the minority by a wide margin. But still...we pay the same tuition and we are here because we want to be here, which is more than I can say for many of the MDiv students who seem to resent having to be here and endure all the unorthodox hoopla in order to become Methodist ministers. Well, if it's just so damned awful, find another denomination. There are plenty of churches around where the pastor hasn't even graduated from high school.
WOW...I've been gone a long time. It's not that nothing has happened; actually a lot has happened, and I haven't had the time (or energy) to come here and vent. Well, loyal and patient readers, the time has come to vent. Close your doors, sit down and clear your schedules. Quoting Bette Davis, "fasten your seat belts, it's gonna be a bumpy night"...
A couple of weeks ago we watched a film on Islam. Yes...this is yet another story about my favorite whipping girl and boy, Jane and John Godley. They sat behind me, as they usually do. So I was subjected to every sigh, grunt, and expression of disapproval. They resented having to watch the film, and made no effort to conceal that fact. Most of the griping came during the segment on the spread of Islam and its conquest. Yes, the sword point conversions that are an unfortunate part of Islam's past. They seemed to be particularly revolted by this. I have only one thing to say regarding such misplaced self-righteousness: Remember the bloody history of your own church. Before casting aspersions on others, look to your own house. And stop kicking my chair.
Footnote:
If I had a dime for every time I've said this, I'd be writing this blog from my Tuscan villa: "Muslim Terrorist" is an oxymoron. Terrorists are not Muslims and Muslims are not terrorists. It doesn't matter how many times they say they do this in the name of God. It doesn't make it true, and God would never own their actions. I simply cannot tolerate the continued use of the term "Muslim Terrorist" by the sensation-seeking media and the fear-mongering politicians. It is racist, bigoted, and patently false. Food for thought: when was the last time you heard an IRA bomber referred to as a Catholic terrorist?
A couple of weeks ago we watched a film on Islam. Yes...this is yet another story about my favorite whipping girl and boy, Jane and John Godley. They sat behind me, as they usually do. So I was subjected to every sigh, grunt, and expression of disapproval. They resented having to watch the film, and made no effort to conceal that fact. Most of the griping came during the segment on the spread of Islam and its conquest. Yes, the sword point conversions that are an unfortunate part of Islam's past. They seemed to be particularly revolted by this. I have only one thing to say regarding such misplaced self-righteousness: Remember the bloody history of your own church. Before casting aspersions on others, look to your own house. And stop kicking my chair.
Footnote:
If I had a dime for every time I've said this, I'd be writing this blog from my Tuscan villa: "Muslim Terrorist" is an oxymoron. Terrorists are not Muslims and Muslims are not terrorists. It doesn't matter how many times they say they do this in the name of God. It doesn't make it true, and God would never own their actions. I simply cannot tolerate the continued use of the term "Muslim Terrorist" by the sensation-seeking media and the fear-mongering politicians. It is racist, bigoted, and patently false. Food for thought: when was the last time you heard an IRA bomber referred to as a Catholic terrorist?
17.3.08
Random Musing
"The Weighting is the Hardest Part":
To all the women out there who constantly gripe that it is so much easier for men to lose weight than it is for women, and I'm one of them, I have a sweet little bit of news to share with you. On our vacation to the Florida Keys this past week my husband gained ten pounds. I lost six. There is still hope, and justice still exists in this world.
To all the women out there who constantly gripe that it is so much easier for men to lose weight than it is for women, and I'm one of them, I have a sweet little bit of news to share with you. On our vacation to the Florida Keys this past week my husband gained ten pounds. I lost six. There is still hope, and justice still exists in this world.
16.3.08
Sermon of the Week
Yet another new feature I have decided to add. I'm sure you have all at one time or another received a joke e-mail with photos taken of various (usually Southern) church signboards with the title of the upcoming sermon, a quote from Scripture, or some other church community announcement that was funny (either intentionally or unintentionally), scary, intended to be clever, or just plain odd. I have decided to share with you the joy and the pain I experience as I pass by the numerous (and then some...) churches on my daily commute to Seminary. I know...I'm such a giving person, aren't I?
"Forbidden Fruit Makes Many Jams"
I like it. It's clever. Judging from the rather large people I see entering and exiting this church on any given Sunday, they firmly believe that all fruit is forbidden, and that jam goes best on fried chicken and cheese fries; not to mention those moist, soft, buttery biscuits....damn, I'm getting hungry...
"Forbidden Fruit Makes Many Jams"
I like it. It's clever. Judging from the rather large people I see entering and exiting this church on any given Sunday, they firmly believe that all fruit is forbidden, and that jam goes best on fried chicken and cheese fries; not to mention those moist, soft, buttery biscuits....damn, I'm getting hungry...
6.3.08
Random Musing
In my World Religions class we are trying to coordinate a time (on a Saturday) to go visit a local Buddhist monastery. Next week is Spring Break, and half the class is going out of town, and will be leaving Friday. The following Saturday doesn't work because most of us will still be out of town, returning the next day. "O.K., so how about the following Saturday?" the professor inquires. Oh, heavens no! We can't do that! It's the Saturday before Easter!...uh...so what? Is God going to strike you down if he sees you entering a Buddhist Monastery during his Holy Week?
28.2.08
What the Buddha Taught:
First, I must indulge in a pointed rant regarding the pronunciation of Buddha, Buddhist, Buddhism. It is one of my pet peeves, and I liken it to fingernails on a chalkboard. It is not pronounced BOO-duh. Or BOO-dizem, or BOO-dist; like they are meditating on the impermanence of booty or something. (I wish I had an impermanent booty...) It is Bu as in good, not Bu as in food. And while we're on the subject, he is not the "Dolly" Lama. He is the "Deh-lie" Lama. Thank you. I just had to get that off my chest. Or booty. Or, whatever...
You know that expression, "leave your problems at the door?" I wish we had a similar one for my World Religions class. Or all of Seminary, actually: leave your Christianity at the door. Today was the third day of our discussion of Buddhism. We started out gently with the biography of Prince Siddhartha/Gautama Buddha and then some introductory material; sort of the broad strokes of Buddhism. For today, we jumped into Theravadin Buddhism feet first, with one of the most difficult and profound writings on Buddhist thought; the Buddhadhamma: Natural Laws and Values for Life (Buddhadhamma refers to the corpus of the Buddha's teachings) by Thailand's pre-eminent Buddhist monk and scholar Phra Prayudh Payutto.
I love this professor, by the way. She is gentle and sincere and very enthusiastic about the material; especially Hinduism. She wrote her dissertation on a comparison between Ramanuja (a Classical Hindu philosopher) and St. John of the Cross. But she is also very confident in her teaching abilities (she lectures without notes, and writes Sanskrit without cheat sheets) and she knows her stuff. No question. Good thing, too. She was taking fire from many sides today. These sweet, little, American, not-terribly-worldly MDiv students are having a very difficult time wrapping their heads around these very foreign concepts. I think that if they ever managed to retain and understand some of this their heads might actually explode.
I had fun today. Real fun; like I haven't in a long time. I felt alive; every nerve was tingling. You couldn't shut me up. And the professor was thoroughly enjoying this, too. Not that I was coming to her defense; she certainly didn't need it. I prefer to think of it as more of a tag-team operation.
Let's set the scene: Jane Godley is behind me, sighing and huffing and mumbling, "o.k...what?! I'm so confused. I don't understand" etc. It was all I could do not to turn around and slap her. A few kept banging their heads against the brick wall that separates their American enculturation, Christian indoctrination, and Western education (such as it is) from the whole of Eastern thought, and kept asking terribly inept and ill-formed questions. Most were just staring straight ahead and trying not to move or even breathe for fear of drawing unwanted attention, and God forbid they be asked a question like, "what do you think?" (Um...they don't.)
Their biggest problem was dealing with the concept of no-self. A basic tenet of Buddhism is the belief in the impermanence of things. Every thing in this world, including humans, is in constant flux. When we fail to recognize this and live in ignorance we cling to things and/or people, and then suffer needlessly when those things/people are gone from us. All life is suffering. To end suffering one must be free from attachment. This includes an attachment to self, what we today would call ego. Or, what the "Kids in the Hall" (not the Canadian variety show; scroll down. You'll know what I mean.) would call soul. They simply cannot set aside their belief in a creator God, an eternal soul or their modern concept of self for one second in order to attempt to grasp what the Buddha is teaching.
Now, I have no way of knowing what most of these people studied (or didn't study) in their undergrad work. I get the impression most of them majored in Marriage and Family, or Feelings, or Fluffy Little Animals. I have a strong background in philosophy. It was a large component of my major. Which, I concede, probably gives me a better than average advantage. And in order to participate in today's discussion you really needed at least some experience with philosophical thought, method, and process.
My favorite moment came when John Godley threw this bomb: "Now, I have a friend who was taking a philosophy class, and at the end of the class he stood up and challenged the professor by saying, 'prove that I exist.' to which the professor replied, 'if you didn't exist, I would ask who or what just asked that question?' Would the Buddha (BOO-duh) answer differently, since according to him we don't exist?" Without missing a beat, the professor responded, "well, the Buddha would probably say that would depend on what you mean by 'I'. In every language we have a utilitarian way of talking about self, but that is just so we can communicate with each other and function on a very superficial, perfunctory level. It doesn't speak to the higher truth." He had nothing in return, demoralized and silenced for the moment.
Jane Godley pipes up: I don't understand how there can be no concept of self. I mean, I recognize that we are all different, have different talents, different memories. So, how can they say there is no self, when obviously we are different. And the professor returns the serve: Buddhism does not deny that we are all different. We are; and they recognize that we are unique. But there is no essence, no eternal soul in Buddhism. When you die, your existence is transported to another life and another reality. But in this life, your form, the one we all recognize as Emily, is conditional. It depends on all these other things and people being here and recognizing and mentally reassembling your aggregate parts. But you are always in flux.
John Godley, having recovered (sort of...) said: I guess I'm just asking a Western question for which their is no Eastern answer. By far, the most insightful thing I have ever heard him utter. I could stand it no longer. I knew I had already monopolized much of the time, but NOTHING the professor and I, and a couple of other MTS students who were clearly understanding this but were probably a little battle-weary, were saying was sinking in. I addressed John's issues first: I think that you are right in saying it is a Western question for which there is no Eastern answer. But more than that, it is anachronistic. Our concept of self is a very recent development. It has come to us from Enlightenment thinking and Modern Psychology. They would have had no concept of self that would be in any way recognizable to us, and vice versa.
And now to Jane: And I think you can grasp the concept of the impermanence of self on a very practical and concrete level. You are not, in fact, the same person you were yesterday or even five minutes ago. Your hair is longer, your nails are longer, you have lost brain cells and dead skin cells, you have lost and gained knowledge and memories. To which the professor said, "yes, I think that's exactly right. And that is the kind of example the Buddha would have used; something from nature that was visible and demonstrable to his students. He just took it much further, to the entire universe and beyond." I scored major points with her. And John and Jane probably think I'm an even bigger freak than previously imagined. All in all, a very successful day.
First, I must indulge in a pointed rant regarding the pronunciation of Buddha, Buddhist, Buddhism. It is one of my pet peeves, and I liken it to fingernails on a chalkboard. It is not pronounced BOO-duh. Or BOO-dizem, or BOO-dist; like they are meditating on the impermanence of booty or something. (I wish I had an impermanent booty...) It is Bu as in good, not Bu as in food. And while we're on the subject, he is not the "Dolly" Lama. He is the "Deh-lie" Lama. Thank you. I just had to get that off my chest. Or booty. Or, whatever...
You know that expression, "leave your problems at the door?" I wish we had a similar one for my World Religions class. Or all of Seminary, actually: leave your Christianity at the door. Today was the third day of our discussion of Buddhism. We started out gently with the biography of Prince Siddhartha/Gautama Buddha and then some introductory material; sort of the broad strokes of Buddhism. For today, we jumped into Theravadin Buddhism feet first, with one of the most difficult and profound writings on Buddhist thought; the Buddhadhamma: Natural Laws and Values for Life (Buddhadhamma refers to the corpus of the Buddha's teachings) by Thailand's pre-eminent Buddhist monk and scholar Phra Prayudh Payutto.
I love this professor, by the way. She is gentle and sincere and very enthusiastic about the material; especially Hinduism. She wrote her dissertation on a comparison between Ramanuja (a Classical Hindu philosopher) and St. John of the Cross. But she is also very confident in her teaching abilities (she lectures without notes, and writes Sanskrit without cheat sheets) and she knows her stuff. No question. Good thing, too. She was taking fire from many sides today. These sweet, little, American, not-terribly-worldly MDiv students are having a very difficult time wrapping their heads around these very foreign concepts. I think that if they ever managed to retain and understand some of this their heads might actually explode.
I had fun today. Real fun; like I haven't in a long time. I felt alive; every nerve was tingling. You couldn't shut me up. And the professor was thoroughly enjoying this, too. Not that I was coming to her defense; she certainly didn't need it. I prefer to think of it as more of a tag-team operation.
Let's set the scene: Jane Godley is behind me, sighing and huffing and mumbling, "o.k...what?! I'm so confused. I don't understand" etc. It was all I could do not to turn around and slap her. A few kept banging their heads against the brick wall that separates their American enculturation, Christian indoctrination, and Western education (such as it is) from the whole of Eastern thought, and kept asking terribly inept and ill-formed questions. Most were just staring straight ahead and trying not to move or even breathe for fear of drawing unwanted attention, and God forbid they be asked a question like, "what do you think?" (Um...they don't.)
Their biggest problem was dealing with the concept of no-self. A basic tenet of Buddhism is the belief in the impermanence of things. Every thing in this world, including humans, is in constant flux. When we fail to recognize this and live in ignorance we cling to things and/or people, and then suffer needlessly when those things/people are gone from us. All life is suffering. To end suffering one must be free from attachment. This includes an attachment to self, what we today would call ego. Or, what the "Kids in the Hall" (not the Canadian variety show; scroll down. You'll know what I mean.) would call soul. They simply cannot set aside their belief in a creator God, an eternal soul or their modern concept of self for one second in order to attempt to grasp what the Buddha is teaching.
Now, I have no way of knowing what most of these people studied (or didn't study) in their undergrad work. I get the impression most of them majored in Marriage and Family, or Feelings, or Fluffy Little Animals. I have a strong background in philosophy. It was a large component of my major. Which, I concede, probably gives me a better than average advantage. And in order to participate in today's discussion you really needed at least some experience with philosophical thought, method, and process.
My favorite moment came when John Godley threw this bomb: "Now, I have a friend who was taking a philosophy class, and at the end of the class he stood up and challenged the professor by saying, 'prove that I exist.' to which the professor replied, 'if you didn't exist, I would ask who or what just asked that question?' Would the Buddha (BOO-duh) answer differently, since according to him we don't exist?" Without missing a beat, the professor responded, "well, the Buddha would probably say that would depend on what you mean by 'I'. In every language we have a utilitarian way of talking about self, but that is just so we can communicate with each other and function on a very superficial, perfunctory level. It doesn't speak to the higher truth." He had nothing in return, demoralized and silenced for the moment.
Jane Godley pipes up: I don't understand how there can be no concept of self. I mean, I recognize that we are all different, have different talents, different memories. So, how can they say there is no self, when obviously we are different. And the professor returns the serve: Buddhism does not deny that we are all different. We are; and they recognize that we are unique. But there is no essence, no eternal soul in Buddhism. When you die, your existence is transported to another life and another reality. But in this life, your form, the one we all recognize as Emily, is conditional. It depends on all these other things and people being here and recognizing and mentally reassembling your aggregate parts. But you are always in flux.
John Godley, having recovered (sort of...) said: I guess I'm just asking a Western question for which their is no Eastern answer. By far, the most insightful thing I have ever heard him utter. I could stand it no longer. I knew I had already monopolized much of the time, but NOTHING the professor and I, and a couple of other MTS students who were clearly understanding this but were probably a little battle-weary, were saying was sinking in. I addressed John's issues first: I think that you are right in saying it is a Western question for which there is no Eastern answer. But more than that, it is anachronistic. Our concept of self is a very recent development. It has come to us from Enlightenment thinking and Modern Psychology. They would have had no concept of self that would be in any way recognizable to us, and vice versa.
And now to Jane: And I think you can grasp the concept of the impermanence of self on a very practical and concrete level. You are not, in fact, the same person you were yesterday or even five minutes ago. Your hair is longer, your nails are longer, you have lost brain cells and dead skin cells, you have lost and gained knowledge and memories. To which the professor said, "yes, I think that's exactly right. And that is the kind of example the Buddha would have used; something from nature that was visible and demonstrable to his students. He just took it much further, to the entire universe and beyond." I scored major points with her. And John and Jane probably think I'm an even bigger freak than previously imagined. All in all, a very successful day.
25.2.08
Random Musing
I have found out what Jane Godley's real name is. Emily. But of course it is...just precious. Still don't know John Godley's real name. It's probably Eric. Or Kevin. Or...John.
23.2.08
Let's Play "Spot the Atheist":
Whenever I can't sleep I imagine I'm standing in the middle of the courtyard, between the classroom building and the chapel, and count the closet atheists. Sometimes it works, and I nod right off. Sometimes, well...there are just too many of them to count. Seminary just beats the God right out of you. Well, the Church anyway.
I am not a closet atheist. I came out. In a spectacular way, in front of my Sociology of Religion class. I have no idea what possessed me to say this. It certainly wasn't the Holy Spirit. Our first assignment is to research the doctrine/beliefs/whatever and observe the activities of a faith tradition not our own, with a demographic different from ours. For instance, if you're a WASP-y Presby from Connecticut, you might want to visit an African Methodist Episcopal Church, or a Holyness Tabernacle. Those are the Snake Handlers, by the way. I can't imagine anything scaring the shit out of a sheltered Ivy League town girl more...can you? If so, I'd love to hear it. I'm always looking for new ideas.
Anyway, I'm interested in doing my paper on the Baha'i Faith. My stylist is Baha'i, and so is my former Honors Mentor/Academic Advisor at my undergrad institution. Neither was raised in the Baha'i faith; not many are. They come to it in their adulthood. My stylist is Persian, my professor is Dutch. Calvinist. (Talk about beating the God right out of you.) My stylist's husband is also a college professor. And not knowing who else is a part of their devotional group, I am a bit concerned that most of them are also educated professionals and academics, which would put me smack-dab in the middle of that demographic. So, I raised this concern with the professor. "Are you Baha'i?" he asked. "No," I said. "I'm a non-practicing nothing, which pretty much leaves my options wide open." The walls of the classroom seemed to expand and then contract sharply as everyone took this in, registered shock, and then gasped.
The professor didn't seem the least bit surprised, or shocked, or offended, or concerned. (I love this guy.) He then asked, "well, were you raised in a particular tradition?" I responded, "yes. Methodist. I have absolutely no interest in revisiting that." Another gasp. O.K. huge clue time: this is a UMC Seminary. Most of the MDiv students who are on the ordination track will become United Methodist ministers. I just offended and alienated more than half the class. In less than a minute. Damn, I'm good.
Footnote:
Yes, I know Holiness is spelled incorrectly. In the outside world. But that is how most of them in this state spell it. The Pentecostals of this particular sect, usually called "Holiness Church," in Canada and other Northern states spell it with an i. For those who are unfamiliar with the practice of snake handling, and drinking water laced with arsenic or strychnine, and engaging in glossolalia (speaking in tongues), The Holiness believers base their entire church around apocryphal verses in Mark: "And these signs will accompany those who believe: by using my name they will cast out demons; they will speak in new tongues; they will pick up snakes in their hands, and if they drink any deadly thing, it will not hurt them; they will lay their hands on the sick and they will recover." Mark 16: 17-18, NRSV
That should tell you something right there...an entire dogma built around two verses of Scripture taken entirely out of context. Maybe they're on to something here. I should proof-text a tiny, obscure verse and start my own church. No doubt it will be something from Revelation. Because nothing gets a cult going better than the End of Days. As they say...there are no atheists in the foxholes.
Whenever I can't sleep I imagine I'm standing in the middle of the courtyard, between the classroom building and the chapel, and count the closet atheists. Sometimes it works, and I nod right off. Sometimes, well...there are just too many of them to count. Seminary just beats the God right out of you. Well, the Church anyway.
I am not a closet atheist. I came out. In a spectacular way, in front of my Sociology of Religion class. I have no idea what possessed me to say this. It certainly wasn't the Holy Spirit. Our first assignment is to research the doctrine/beliefs/whatever and observe the activities of a faith tradition not our own, with a demographic different from ours. For instance, if you're a WASP-y Presby from Connecticut, you might want to visit an African Methodist Episcopal Church, or a Holyness Tabernacle. Those are the Snake Handlers, by the way. I can't imagine anything scaring the shit out of a sheltered Ivy League town girl more...can you? If so, I'd love to hear it. I'm always looking for new ideas.
Anyway, I'm interested in doing my paper on the Baha'i Faith. My stylist is Baha'i, and so is my former Honors Mentor/Academic Advisor at my undergrad institution. Neither was raised in the Baha'i faith; not many are. They come to it in their adulthood. My stylist is Persian, my professor is Dutch. Calvinist. (Talk about beating the God right out of you.) My stylist's husband is also a college professor. And not knowing who else is a part of their devotional group, I am a bit concerned that most of them are also educated professionals and academics, which would put me smack-dab in the middle of that demographic. So, I raised this concern with the professor. "Are you Baha'i?" he asked. "No," I said. "I'm a non-practicing nothing, which pretty much leaves my options wide open." The walls of the classroom seemed to expand and then contract sharply as everyone took this in, registered shock, and then gasped.
The professor didn't seem the least bit surprised, or shocked, or offended, or concerned. (I love this guy.) He then asked, "well, were you raised in a particular tradition?" I responded, "yes. Methodist. I have absolutely no interest in revisiting that." Another gasp. O.K. huge clue time: this is a UMC Seminary. Most of the MDiv students who are on the ordination track will become United Methodist ministers. I just offended and alienated more than half the class. In less than a minute. Damn, I'm good.
Footnote:
Yes, I know Holiness is spelled incorrectly. In the outside world. But that is how most of them in this state spell it. The Pentecostals of this particular sect, usually called "Holiness Church," in Canada and other Northern states spell it with an i. For those who are unfamiliar with the practice of snake handling, and drinking water laced with arsenic or strychnine, and engaging in glossolalia (speaking in tongues), The Holiness believers base their entire church around apocryphal verses in Mark: "And these signs will accompany those who believe: by using my name they will cast out demons; they will speak in new tongues; they will pick up snakes in their hands, and if they drink any deadly thing, it will not hurt them; they will lay their hands on the sick and they will recover." Mark 16: 17-18, NRSV
That should tell you something right there...an entire dogma built around two verses of Scripture taken entirely out of context. Maybe they're on to something here. I should proof-text a tiny, obscure verse and start my own church. No doubt it will be something from Revelation. Because nothing gets a cult going better than the End of Days. As they say...there are no atheists in the foxholes.
7.2.08
Pointed Rant
(Or, maybe it's a Random Rant. It certainly isn't a Random Musing.)
So here I am, sicker than a dog, stuck in my bed with nothing else to do except read, read, read. I haven't been this on top of my reading since I returned to academia. Anyway, I'm popping Tylenol Cold Head Congestion, Severe like it's candy. The caplets have this "Cool Burst" coating, which is sort of a sweet minty flavor. I hate it. Cool burst? All it does is give me heartburn. I'd hardly call that "cool."
That's all. I just had to share that with you. Perhaps I should go back to bed.
So here I am, sicker than a dog, stuck in my bed with nothing else to do except read, read, read. I haven't been this on top of my reading since I returned to academia. Anyway, I'm popping Tylenol Cold Head Congestion, Severe like it's candy. The caplets have this "Cool Burst" coating, which is sort of a sweet minty flavor. I hate it. Cool burst? All it does is give me heartburn. I'd hardly call that "cool."
That's all. I just had to share that with you. Perhaps I should go back to bed.
6.2.08
It has been two weeks since my last blog entry, so I thought I would write to tell you all that there isn't much to tell. I live an action-packed life, don't I? Actually, I've been spending more time at home than I have on campus lately. I have been struck down by a nasty little flu bug, and haven't felt comfortable being too far away from my bed. I have been keeping up with the hundreds of pages of reading; I have nothing else to do.
Yesterday, I got out among 'em to stand in line for one hour to then stand in front of a voting terminal for fifteen seconds. While I was in line, I spiked another fever and almost passed out. All this for a guy who thoroughly destroyed his competion in the state. But my vote counts, dammit!! I shouldn't be sarcastic. It was quite a momentous occasion, and I rather relished being a part of history. I have never voted for a candidate who's campaign slogan ended in a preposition. But then, I suppose "Change in which we can believe" just isn't as snappy, is it...
Hopefully I'll be back in action soon and have something a little more interesting to report. For now, I'm going back to bed.
Yesterday, I got out among 'em to stand in line for one hour to then stand in front of a voting terminal for fifteen seconds. While I was in line, I spiked another fever and almost passed out. All this for a guy who thoroughly destroyed his competion in the state. But my vote counts, dammit!! I shouldn't be sarcastic. It was quite a momentous occasion, and I rather relished being a part of history. I have never voted for a candidate who's campaign slogan ended in a preposition. But then, I suppose "Change in which we can believe" just isn't as snappy, is it...
Hopefully I'll be back in action soon and have something a little more interesting to report. For now, I'm going back to bed.
23.1.08
Deja vu and the Moldy Oldie:
You may have noticed from the time stamp of my previous entry that I am supposed to be in class right now. Let me explain: Tuesdays are a real bitch and a half. It is a twelve hour day. I have a 9:30 a.m. class, choir practice at 12:00, a class at 1:00, and my once-a-week Rastafari class from 6:30-9:30 p.m. As previously stated, in order to arrive on time for my 9:30 class, I need to get up around 6:00 a.m. Which means I like to be in bed at 9:30 p.m. Until we actually do solve the riddle of the space/time continuum, this simply is not possible on Tuesday nights. Super charging my hybrid (which I affectionately call my granola rocket; no, really - that baby hauls ass!) and doing away with speeding tickets could help, but neither of those are real possibilities, either. So, I knew Wednesday mornings were going to be really ugly. This one was worse than usual. I had a massive headache that just didn't allow me to get any sleep. And then there is the class.
It is the Interpretation of Christian Thought class that is being taught by my advisor. I was really looking forward to this class. Because he is my advisor, and this class deals with my sub-discipline, I was hoping that whatever term paper(s) we had in this class would serve as the writing sample I submit with my PhD program applications in the fall. No such luck. There are nearly 200 people in this class, and despite the fact he has five teaching assistants, reading that many papers is just not practical or possible. The only grades will be weekly on-line quizzes, a multiple choice mid-term, and a multiple choice final. Strike one.
I began reading the text for today's class, and got through a few pages before tossing it aside in disgust. Not only is it the most basic and introductory information on this subject, (been there, done that, BORING!) it is out-dated and now widely considered to be inaccurate. The book was published in 1992, not terrible old, but it may as well have been 1922. So many new discoveries have been made, and re-evaluations, and reinterpretations have been posited and accepted, that this book is laughable. Strike two.
Today's lecture deals specifically with a subject on which I have written several times, and for which I have presented papers at a couple of conferences. I could give this lecture. There was no way I was dragging my ass (and aching head) out of bed after maybe three hours of sleep, throw on some clothes, drive an hour and a half for an hour and twenty minute class on information I could recite in my sleep, then drive home while trying not to fall asleep at the wheel. Strike three. I'm out.
You may have noticed from the time stamp of my previous entry that I am supposed to be in class right now. Let me explain: Tuesdays are a real bitch and a half. It is a twelve hour day. I have a 9:30 a.m. class, choir practice at 12:00, a class at 1:00, and my once-a-week Rastafari class from 6:30-9:30 p.m. As previously stated, in order to arrive on time for my 9:30 class, I need to get up around 6:00 a.m. Which means I like to be in bed at 9:30 p.m. Until we actually do solve the riddle of the space/time continuum, this simply is not possible on Tuesday nights. Super charging my hybrid (which I affectionately call my granola rocket; no, really - that baby hauls ass!) and doing away with speeding tickets could help, but neither of those are real possibilities, either. So, I knew Wednesday mornings were going to be really ugly. This one was worse than usual. I had a massive headache that just didn't allow me to get any sleep. And then there is the class.
It is the Interpretation of Christian Thought class that is being taught by my advisor. I was really looking forward to this class. Because he is my advisor, and this class deals with my sub-discipline, I was hoping that whatever term paper(s) we had in this class would serve as the writing sample I submit with my PhD program applications in the fall. No such luck. There are nearly 200 people in this class, and despite the fact he has five teaching assistants, reading that many papers is just not practical or possible. The only grades will be weekly on-line quizzes, a multiple choice mid-term, and a multiple choice final. Strike one.
I began reading the text for today's class, and got through a few pages before tossing it aside in disgust. Not only is it the most basic and introductory information on this subject, (been there, done that, BORING!) it is out-dated and now widely considered to be inaccurate. The book was published in 1992, not terrible old, but it may as well have been 1922. So many new discoveries have been made, and re-evaluations, and reinterpretations have been posited and accepted, that this book is laughable. Strike two.
Today's lecture deals specifically with a subject on which I have written several times, and for which I have presented papers at a couple of conferences. I could give this lecture. There was no way I was dragging my ass (and aching head) out of bed after maybe three hours of sleep, throw on some clothes, drive an hour and a half for an hour and twenty minute class on information I could recite in my sleep, then drive home while trying not to fall asleep at the wheel. Strike three. I'm out.
Kids in the Hall
I have decided to add this new featurette, along with the "Random Musings," the "Pointed Rants," and the "Quotables" because I often overhear snippets of conversation that are just too funny, or odd, or shocking not to share with you and inject my own sick humor.
"What classes are you taking?"
"This one, Greek, ConEd..."
"Real Greek? Or..."
No, darling. Fake Greek. Pig Greek. From which the Romans developed their Pig Latin.
"What classes are you taking?"
"This one, Greek, ConEd..."
"Real Greek? Or..."
No, darling. Fake Greek. Pig Greek. From which the Romans developed their Pig Latin.
"My Brothers, My Sisters":
Last night was the first session of the class on Rastafari Religion. I have been looking forward to this class for months, and have heard nothing but good things about the professor. I was not disappointed. He is Jamaican, and although he has been in the States for nearly thirty years, his accent is still thick. And wonderful. I could listen to that all day. He does return home several times a year, and is still a principle exam and dissertation reader for the University in Kingston, so it is no mystery why he has not lost a bit of his accent.
He is not a Rasta, but he brings to this class first-hand knowledge of the culture. He was an eye-witness to the rise of this movement, and has been personally affected by it. He is an ordained Baptist minister, and the son of a Baptist minister. His mother was the organist in their church. When he was a little boy, he watched a Rasta burn a copy of the Bible on the steps of his father's church. In spite of this, (or perhaps because of it) he remains fair and balanced, respecting their individual rights, their autonomy as fellow human beings; and instead of condemning them has delved deeper into their culture/religion.
This regard is not reserved for the Rastas. One has the impression that this man is endowed with an integrity, a personal ethic, and world view that simply will not allow him to lack respect, charity, or love for any person. Including his students. Every opinion is respected, every voice is encouraged and heard. We are, as he calls us, his brothers and sisters. I've never been asked in any class by any teacher or professor, "Sister, what is your name?" Everyone is "Brother Christopher" or "Sister Jennifer." His use of these terms is in no way forced or artificial. It is as natural to him as breathing; a result of his genteel, Baptist, British/Afro-Caribbean upbringing. And in those three hours I experienced moments of grace and a true sense of home, family, and community that has been all too rare in my Seminary experience thus far.
We started the class with a little Bob Marley and some Peter Tosh, and spent a great deal of time discussing marijuana. I would have been very surprised if neither of those things happened! My only regret is that I did not have the opportunity to tell him how I almost started a political uprising in Jamaica. Perhaps another time...Oh, I'm not going to tell you, either! You'll just have to keep checking in to see if I share that story!
Last night was the first session of the class on Rastafari Religion. I have been looking forward to this class for months, and have heard nothing but good things about the professor. I was not disappointed. He is Jamaican, and although he has been in the States for nearly thirty years, his accent is still thick. And wonderful. I could listen to that all day. He does return home several times a year, and is still a principle exam and dissertation reader for the University in Kingston, so it is no mystery why he has not lost a bit of his accent.
He is not a Rasta, but he brings to this class first-hand knowledge of the culture. He was an eye-witness to the rise of this movement, and has been personally affected by it. He is an ordained Baptist minister, and the son of a Baptist minister. His mother was the organist in their church. When he was a little boy, he watched a Rasta burn a copy of the Bible on the steps of his father's church. In spite of this, (or perhaps because of it) he remains fair and balanced, respecting their individual rights, their autonomy as fellow human beings; and instead of condemning them has delved deeper into their culture/religion.
This regard is not reserved for the Rastas. One has the impression that this man is endowed with an integrity, a personal ethic, and world view that simply will not allow him to lack respect, charity, or love for any person. Including his students. Every opinion is respected, every voice is encouraged and heard. We are, as he calls us, his brothers and sisters. I've never been asked in any class by any teacher or professor, "Sister, what is your name?" Everyone is "Brother Christopher" or "Sister Jennifer." His use of these terms is in no way forced or artificial. It is as natural to him as breathing; a result of his genteel, Baptist, British/Afro-Caribbean upbringing. And in those three hours I experienced moments of grace and a true sense of home, family, and community that has been all too rare in my Seminary experience thus far.
We started the class with a little Bob Marley and some Peter Tosh, and spent a great deal of time discussing marijuana. I would have been very surprised if neither of those things happened! My only regret is that I did not have the opportunity to tell him how I almost started a political uprising in Jamaica. Perhaps another time...Oh, I'm not going to tell you, either! You'll just have to keep checking in to see if I share that story!
18.1.08
First Day, Part II:
Greetings devoted (and incredibly patient) readers, and Happy New Year! Another semester has started here at Seminary, and I am hopeful this one will be better than the last. Being in control of my own on-line enrollment ensured that nothing was "lost" and I actually managed to get into classes that were of interest to me, and not simply classes that were still open. I was concerned about getting back into the swing of things here on the blog, having been away for so long, but God (or whatever) sent me a sign. I was seated in my first class for no more than five minutes when I was able to flip to a fresh sheet of paper and start jotting down notes for my first blog entry!
John and Jane Godly, two of my favorite characters from last semester as you will remember, are, as was suspected, joined at the hip. They have invaded what I thought would be a sanctuary, World Religions: Hinduism, Buddhism, and Islam. But, no. No sanctuary for me. Even here the Evangelical nut-jobs find me. This time, however, they did not sit beside me - no room. The did not sit in front of me - already taken. They sat directly behind me. John said under his breath as they removed their coats, "here we are, the 'World Baptists.'" Greeeaaat. This is going to be a fun semester. I can tell already. I later discovered to my personal horror (there are only three MTS students in the class), and yet universal, perverted delight, that this is now a required class for all MDiv students. Yeeesss! There is no escaping exposure to non-Christian and non-Western religions!! Some of these people might actually get a REAL education!
Bad omens continue to follow me. A brief history of the weather as pertains to my seminary experience: I went to an information session/"campus day" for admitted students last February. It rained heavily that morning. I left home a half hour early and arrived twenty minutes late. It rained all day, and we went on a walking tour of the campus. Fun. In August, on the first day of Orientation, it rained all morning. I left forty minutes early, and barely arrived on time. The second day of Orientation, it stormed. I left forty minutes early and arrived fifteen minutes late. On the first day of classes, the weather was beautiful. The traffic sucked worse than usual. Go figure.
Yesterday, the first day of classes, it rained heavily and was quite cold. The rain melted the two inches of snow we had the night before, and the drivers were pretty squirrelly, slamming on the brakes whenever they crossed a bridge or overpass because they were afraid of ice. Uh....slamming on the brakes because the road is icy is about as intelligent as placing your hand to the fire because it will burn. The South is so very amusing in so many ways to us misplaced Yankees. It was a fun, fun ride.
Today, and on all Wednesdays and Fridays, I have only one class. At 9:30 in the morning. I have a 9:30 class every day, by the way. That means I have to leave my house around 7:30. That means I have to get up around 6:00. I am NOT a morning person. This class is being taught by my advisor, who is a pretty cool guy, and I'm really looking forward to this class because it is in my particular area of study, even down to the sub-discipline within which I place myself. I will refrain from elaborating on this as it is quite obscure, there are not many scholars involved in this research, and my work (and therefore name) is fairly well known among the other scholars in our small circle. To my knowledge, I am the only Masters student in the circle. The others are PhD candidates, post docs, or senior scholars. This isn't bragging. It's a VERY small circle, and a VERY obscure subject. I dread it whenever anyone asks, "so, what are you studying?" My usual response is, "how much time do you have, and how interested are you, really?" There is no short answer or easy explanation.
Anyway, some of you will remember I had a very jarring moment on my first day of classes last semester that was the single event which led to the creation of this blog. We bowed our heads and prayed. That first day was the only time we did so in that class. Fine with me. Today, in this class that resides firmly within my comfort zone, I was not so lucky. We were informed that we would begin EVERY class with a prayer, short devotional reading, and two minutes of silent contemplation. Yeah. Welcome to Seminary.
Greetings devoted (and incredibly patient) readers, and Happy New Year! Another semester has started here at Seminary, and I am hopeful this one will be better than the last. Being in control of my own on-line enrollment ensured that nothing was "lost" and I actually managed to get into classes that were of interest to me, and not simply classes that were still open. I was concerned about getting back into the swing of things here on the blog, having been away for so long, but God (or whatever) sent me a sign. I was seated in my first class for no more than five minutes when I was able to flip to a fresh sheet of paper and start jotting down notes for my first blog entry!
John and Jane Godly, two of my favorite characters from last semester as you will remember, are, as was suspected, joined at the hip. They have invaded what I thought would be a sanctuary, World Religions: Hinduism, Buddhism, and Islam. But, no. No sanctuary for me. Even here the Evangelical nut-jobs find me. This time, however, they did not sit beside me - no room. The did not sit in front of me - already taken. They sat directly behind me. John said under his breath as they removed their coats, "here we are, the 'World Baptists.'" Greeeaaat. This is going to be a fun semester. I can tell already. I later discovered to my personal horror (there are only three MTS students in the class), and yet universal, perverted delight, that this is now a required class for all MDiv students. Yeeesss! There is no escaping exposure to non-Christian and non-Western religions!! Some of these people might actually get a REAL education!
Bad omens continue to follow me. A brief history of the weather as pertains to my seminary experience: I went to an information session/"campus day" for admitted students last February. It rained heavily that morning. I left home a half hour early and arrived twenty minutes late. It rained all day, and we went on a walking tour of the campus. Fun. In August, on the first day of Orientation, it rained all morning. I left forty minutes early, and barely arrived on time. The second day of Orientation, it stormed. I left forty minutes early and arrived fifteen minutes late. On the first day of classes, the weather was beautiful. The traffic sucked worse than usual. Go figure.
Yesterday, the first day of classes, it rained heavily and was quite cold. The rain melted the two inches of snow we had the night before, and the drivers were pretty squirrelly, slamming on the brakes whenever they crossed a bridge or overpass because they were afraid of ice. Uh....slamming on the brakes because the road is icy is about as intelligent as placing your hand to the fire because it will burn. The South is so very amusing in so many ways to us misplaced Yankees. It was a fun, fun ride.
Today, and on all Wednesdays and Fridays, I have only one class. At 9:30 in the morning. I have a 9:30 class every day, by the way. That means I have to leave my house around 7:30. That means I have to get up around 6:00. I am NOT a morning person. This class is being taught by my advisor, who is a pretty cool guy, and I'm really looking forward to this class because it is in my particular area of study, even down to the sub-discipline within which I place myself. I will refrain from elaborating on this as it is quite obscure, there are not many scholars involved in this research, and my work (and therefore name) is fairly well known among the other scholars in our small circle. To my knowledge, I am the only Masters student in the circle. The others are PhD candidates, post docs, or senior scholars. This isn't bragging. It's a VERY small circle, and a VERY obscure subject. I dread it whenever anyone asks, "so, what are you studying?" My usual response is, "how much time do you have, and how interested are you, really?" There is no short answer or easy explanation.
Anyway, some of you will remember I had a very jarring moment on my first day of classes last semester that was the single event which led to the creation of this blog. We bowed our heads and prayed. That first day was the only time we did so in that class. Fine with me. Today, in this class that resides firmly within my comfort zone, I was not so lucky. We were informed that we would begin EVERY class with a prayer, short devotional reading, and two minutes of silent contemplation. Yeah. Welcome to Seminary.
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