I am feeling life returning again.
Though I've certainly been busy with holiday things, as well as concerns about my father-in-law who had back surgery about a week ago, these past couple weeks have been slowly and gently restorative for me. I came into the month of December physically, mentally, and spiritually exhausted after an all-too-full Autumn.
Little by little, though, because of more moments of quiet and peace woven into my days, I have felt life returning again. This is such a good thing.
Somewhere in the midst of these past couple weeks, we have started to talk about the possibility of moving back home this summer. The more we've talked about it, the more I think we're starting to count on the idea. Though, I guess ultimately it will depend on whether it seems like I will have an equal or better chance of finding a teaching and/or pastoral post back home as here, once my dissertation is complete. (I do like the sounds of that.)
Already, I have felt the bittersweetness of walking through our beautiful city here--feeling that gentle pulling up of roots again from a place we'd started to think of as home. The sights, sounds, the smells here--eucalyptus trees, the hills and water, street performers, the train that rumbles by a few blocks away, rosemary bushes--all of them are part of what makes us up now. They've been shaping us for almost four years.
The other night, though, as a family we went to see Rocky Balboa. (A fantastic movie, by the way!) At one point, Paulie turns Rocky and says: "Once you stay in a place long enough, you start to become it." (Wendell Berry would love it!) Well, for us, seeing the sights of Philadelphia in that film was like reminding us of our place, what we had become over time. Even after these years away, it seems apparent that who we are is not fully here. Who we are is back there.
At least this is how I'm feeling these days. Though nothing is certain, yet. We're beginning once again to live into that in-between space of possibility.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Rockin' Christmas
Now I know we pray for God to "stir up" during the season of Advent, but this is getting a bit ridiculous around here! We've had four earthquakes rumble our tiny apartment in as many days--one this morning (3.5), two last night (3.7 and 2.2), and one two days ago (3.7)! All of them coming from the same spot on a fault that's about three miles from here (and six miles below the surface).
When we first moved out here I was very anxious about earthquakes. Since then, for the most part, I have loved every single one. I've been amazed at how different each one feels from the other. The first earthquake I ever felt, about two years ago, was as if the earth sighed. Another one felt like a shudder. Another was more of a harumph. And there was one that was just a loud bang and a settle, as if we just dropped a foot in our height above sea level.
The other evening when we felt our first 3.7 quake, Monk and I whooped and hollered and gave each other a high five. It is an amazing thing, a transcendent thing to feel the earth move--this all-too-solid foundation that I grew up thinking we could count on it staying put. The bedrock of the East Coast fills you with false expectations. But the temblors of the West Coast remind you that nothing stays the same!
Our second 3.7, at nearly 11 pm last night, was enough to draw me out of bed. I had to put my hand on Monk's bedroom door to stop it from swaying. That one brought tears to my eyes for the first time--a shock of fear moved through me, maybe because we were in bed and everything is supposed to feel safe then. But also because I experienced last night's quake as being utterly indifferent to us, having nothing at all to do with us. I felt for the first time the dispassionate and fantastically destructive potential pent up in the earth below me. I knew last night that it's release, however violent and life-changing for me personally, would not take me or anyone I loved into account. We don't matter in the least to this earth below me.
This morning the same fault shook itself again, measuring a less vociferous but certainly undeniable 3.5. We were able to take this one in stride again, but I'd be lying if I said we weren't getting a bit anxious about all this earth upset.
So I think I'll hold off on some of these Advent prayers and skip ahead a day or two to the more peaceful, silent night variety. And I admit to wishing for a good old fashioned East Coast White Christmas more than our West Coast rockin' one.
When we first moved out here I was very anxious about earthquakes. Since then, for the most part, I have loved every single one. I've been amazed at how different each one feels from the other. The first earthquake I ever felt, about two years ago, was as if the earth sighed. Another one felt like a shudder. Another was more of a harumph. And there was one that was just a loud bang and a settle, as if we just dropped a foot in our height above sea level.
The other evening when we felt our first 3.7 quake, Monk and I whooped and hollered and gave each other a high five. It is an amazing thing, a transcendent thing to feel the earth move--this all-too-solid foundation that I grew up thinking we could count on it staying put. The bedrock of the East Coast fills you with false expectations. But the temblors of the West Coast remind you that nothing stays the same!
Our second 3.7, at nearly 11 pm last night, was enough to draw me out of bed. I had to put my hand on Monk's bedroom door to stop it from swaying. That one brought tears to my eyes for the first time--a shock of fear moved through me, maybe because we were in bed and everything is supposed to feel safe then. But also because I experienced last night's quake as being utterly indifferent to us, having nothing at all to do with us. I felt for the first time the dispassionate and fantastically destructive potential pent up in the earth below me. I knew last night that it's release, however violent and life-changing for me personally, would not take me or anyone I loved into account. We don't matter in the least to this earth below me.
This morning the same fault shook itself again, measuring a less vociferous but certainly undeniable 3.5. We were able to take this one in stride again, but I'd be lying if I said we weren't getting a bit anxious about all this earth upset.
So I think I'll hold off on some of these Advent prayers and skip ahead a day or two to the more peaceful, silent night variety. And I admit to wishing for a good old fashioned East Coast White Christmas more than our West Coast rockin' one.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Charlotte's Web Lost its Magic
Today I went with my son's third-grade class to see the new Charlotte's Web movie. His class had all read the book together and this was their big reward. I love the book. We'd read it a couple times to Monk when he was still three years old. I'm quite fond of the old animated movie version (1973) of the classic story.After hearing some great reviews of the new movie, I was quite disappointed by it. Overall, I found most of the performances to be cold and disinterested. It was as if the actors themselves never even bought into the story.
In the opening scene when Fern (played by Dakota Fanning) confronts her father who's about to do away with the runt piglet, you never get the feeling that these two characters actually have a relationship with one another. Fanning plays the moment as if she has no doubt that the father will do exactly as she wishes. Though she verbally protests, she seems emotionally unmoved by the prospect of the piglet's death. It's an odd combination--to see an empathetic character being played by a non-empathetic actor.
The quirky animals in the barn never take on dimension. Mostly you get the feeling that it's a poor remake of Babe. The characters' lines fall flat and seem strangely stiff. Maybe a result of updating the film to a contemporary setting without really updating the language. The only character who seemed to show any life was the rat Templeton, played by Steve Buscemi. Though admittedly he would only shine when he seemed to be doing his best impression of Paul Lynde's nasal-toned, self-absorbed ramblings of the same character 33 years ago.
Julia Roberts as Charlotte never seems to add any warmth or depth to her voice. She sounds as if she's reading her part distractedly. I never could shake the feeling that she remained aloof to the whole enterprise--as if she were just putting in time to collect a check at the end of the day.
Sam Shepherd's folksy voice as the narrator had the greatest potential. Ultimately, however, the writing seemed so bent on creating a sense of the "ordinariness" of this town, the animals, and the people that you had the feeling no one behind the film had ever lived a day in an ordinary town. Certainly, no one on the cast seemed capable of imagining--or worse, believing in--the everyday magic of the ordinary. As a result, the whole project fell awfully flat.
If you want to enjoy the story of Charlotte's Web again without reading the book, go back to the older animated version. You'll find a lot more life there then you will in the current release. If you're looking for a fun movie with animals, you'd be better off watching Babe. Or find a copy of the wonderful Adventures of Milo and Otis.
Resources for Church Conversations Around Sexuality Needed
Our congregation is soon to embark on a time of intentional conversations about human sexuality, eventually with the hopes of being able to have a more definitive statement about our position on inclusiveness.
Ultimately, we will need the conversation to turn toward a discussion of homosexuality. But we are very interested in helping people understand that to talk about homosexuality, we need to understand that this is only part of a broader conversation about sexuality itself.
As one who serves on the pastoral staff of the congregation, I'm trying to find some kind of curriculum or helpful resource that will guide those conversations (both the broader sexuality discussion as well as the more specific homosexuality discussion). And I am surprised at the difficulty we've had in locating something!
We are for the most part a theologically progressive congregation although there is a lot of theological diversity in our church. For this conversation, however, I think we need to plan on finding people all over the map. Therefore a curriculum or resource that doesn't skew too far in either direction or assume an outcome would be most helpful. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated!
Ultimately, we will need the conversation to turn toward a discussion of homosexuality. But we are very interested in helping people understand that to talk about homosexuality, we need to understand that this is only part of a broader conversation about sexuality itself.
As one who serves on the pastoral staff of the congregation, I'm trying to find some kind of curriculum or helpful resource that will guide those conversations (both the broader sexuality discussion as well as the more specific homosexuality discussion). And I am surprised at the difficulty we've had in locating something!
We are for the most part a theologically progressive congregation although there is a lot of theological diversity in our church. For this conversation, however, I think we need to plan on finding people all over the map. Therefore a curriculum or resource that doesn't skew too far in either direction or assume an outcome would be most helpful. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated!
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
New Blogger
Well, I'm sorry I haven't written anything here for a while. I'm taking a brief respite while I wait for my tank to refill itself. Everyday I seem to feel more and more myself after having worked myself into the ground this past Fall.
In the meantime, I was quite excited to finally be able to transfer my blog to the the new version of Blogger. Now I can change the overall look of the site without having to put a ton of work into redoing all the extras (like links, etc). So that's what I'll be playing with for now. Fun.
Been Christmas shopping these past couple days, too. Mostly for the boy--because nearly all our other gifts are shipped across country. Things are starting to shape up nicely around here for the holiday.
Will try and get back into the swing of things here very soon.
In the meantime, I was quite excited to finally be able to transfer my blog to the the new version of Blogger. Now I can change the overall look of the site without having to put a ton of work into redoing all the extras (like links, etc). So that's what I'll be playing with for now. Fun.
Been Christmas shopping these past couple days, too. Mostly for the boy--because nearly all our other gifts are shipped across country. Things are starting to shape up nicely around here for the holiday.
Will try and get back into the swing of things here very soon.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Receiving the Day
I've come across these two quotes in my studying for my exam today. I share them with you because they just seemed too overwhelmingly beautiful for me to keep all to myself.
"We do not know that breathing can be communion with God. We do not realize that to eat can be to receive life from God in more than its physical sense. We forget that the world, its air or its food cannot by themselves bring life, but only as they are received and accepted for God's sake, in God and as bearers of the divine gift of life. By themselves they can produce only the appearance of life." -Alexander Schmemann
"This applies to the [gift of the] present time as to manna: one must gather it each day, without ever being able to store it up or to amass it as far as to dispense with receiving as a gift. The manna of time thus becomes daily for us. . . .The Christian names her bread 'daily bread' first because she receives the daily itself as bread, a food whose daily reception -- as a gift -- no reserve will spare." -Jean-Luc Marion
And so, may we experience this day as gift--for God's sake. Amen.
"We do not know that breathing can be communion with God. We do not realize that to eat can be to receive life from God in more than its physical sense. We forget that the world, its air or its food cannot by themselves bring life, but only as they are received and accepted for God's sake, in God and as bearers of the divine gift of life. By themselves they can produce only the appearance of life." -Alexander Schmemann
"This applies to the [gift of the] present time as to manna: one must gather it each day, without ever being able to store it up or to amass it as far as to dispense with receiving as a gift. The manna of time thus becomes daily for us. . . .The Christian names her bread 'daily bread' first because she receives the daily itself as bread, a food whose daily reception -- as a gift -- no reserve will spare." -Jean-Luc Marion
And so, may we experience this day as gift--for God's sake. Amen.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
One Foot in Front of the Other
...and soon you'll be heading out the door!
I'm digging in this morning to a full day and evening of studying as I prepare for the very last step of my Comprehensive Exams--the oral exam. (Every time I use the phrase, I have images of dentists peering into my gaping mouth looking for stray words about Foucault or aesthetics or ritual theory. Creepy.)
The task before me today is to flesh out the parts that I wrote about over the past year. To review my notes, page through the books again, to delve into the "more" of what I've already said. I feel confident that what I wrote is good. What I feel nervous about are questions that will push beyond what I wrote.
But I figure if I jump into the pond today (How many metaphors have I mixed in this one posting? Good grief.) and simply immerse myself in everything again, then I'll have something to say.
The morning here is brisk and spectacularly beautiful. The sun is flooding the living room and kitchen through our big front window. The cat is warming himself in the sun's fullness in the best sphinx pose he can muster. It was 60 degrees in the apartment when I got up this morning, but the heater, along with the sun, have toasted the air comfortably. I've had yummy oatmeal for breakfast and some wonderful Irish Breakfast Tea from Adagio. The Monk left the house singing. All of these suggest that the next 48 hours or so will be possible.
Prayers for focus, calm, memory, and clarity are deeply appreciated.
I'm digging in this morning to a full day and evening of studying as I prepare for the very last step of my Comprehensive Exams--the oral exam. (Every time I use the phrase, I have images of dentists peering into my gaping mouth looking for stray words about Foucault or aesthetics or ritual theory. Creepy.)
The task before me today is to flesh out the parts that I wrote about over the past year. To review my notes, page through the books again, to delve into the "more" of what I've already said. I feel confident that what I wrote is good. What I feel nervous about are questions that will push beyond what I wrote.
But I figure if I jump into the pond today (How many metaphors have I mixed in this one posting? Good grief.) and simply immerse myself in everything again, then I'll have something to say.
The morning here is brisk and spectacularly beautiful. The sun is flooding the living room and kitchen through our big front window. The cat is warming himself in the sun's fullness in the best sphinx pose he can muster. It was 60 degrees in the apartment when I got up this morning, but the heater, along with the sun, have toasted the air comfortably. I've had yummy oatmeal for breakfast and some wonderful Irish Breakfast Tea from Adagio. The Monk left the house singing. All of these suggest that the next 48 hours or so will be possible.
Prayers for focus, calm, memory, and clarity are deeply appreciated.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Been There, Done That
I'm slowly getting caught up on all the blogs I used to read regularly but had to quit while I finished my exams. I came across this fun meme on Lorna's blog from way back in October. Thought it would be fun to give it a whirl. The things I've done are marked in bold.
01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain (Mt McLoughlin in Oregon. Boy, did I regret my smoker's lungs then!)
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula (uhhh, no!)
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said “I love you’ and meant it!
09. Hugged a tree
10. Bungee jumped
11. Visited Paris (well, I saw the sunrise in Paris from the airport window on a brief layover on my way to Italy. But I figure since it was the sunrise it counts...)
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea
13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise
14. Seen the Northern Lights (in Beach Haven, NJ of all places!!! I had no idea what they were. I thought it was the end of the world. I was 20 years old and I'm ashamed to admit that I immediately repented of all my liberal beliefs in hopes that it would save me in the last minute. Pathetic.)
15. Gone to a huge sports game (World Series Game 4, 1993, Blue Jays v. Phillies in Philadelphia; Phillies lost.)
16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa (Okay, didn't walk to the top. They don't let you anymore. But I did stand right next to it.)
17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables (Well, I helped plant cucumbers one summer.)
18. Touched an iceberg
19. Slept under the stars (Absolutely! More than once!!!)
20. Changed a baby’s diaper (Absolutely...more than once...)
21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
22. Watched a meteor shower
23. Drunk champagne (-sigh-)
24. Given more than you can afford to charity
25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
27. Had a food fight
28. Bet on a winning horse
29. Asked out a stranger
30. Had a snowball fight (and lost.)
31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
32. Held a lamb
33. Seen a total eclipse
34. Ridden a roller coaster (hated it!)
35. Scored a winning goal (in, like, air hockey)
36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
37. Adopted an accent for an entire day
38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
39. Visited all 5 continents
40. Taken care of someone who was drunk
41. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
42. Watched wild whales
43. Stolen a sign
44. Backpacked
45. Taken a road-trip (our honeymoon was a roadtrip to New Orleans almost fourteen years ago. We went through Nashville, Memphis, and Graceland and stopped at deathrow in Alabama on the way home. Don't ask. We also made a trip across the U.S. in 2003 with five-year-old Monk in tow.)
46. Gone rock climbing
48. Midnight walk on the beach (and skinnydip, of course.)
49. Gone sky diving
50. Taken a train through Europe
51. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love
52. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table, and had a meal with them (at every meal on the train across country in 1989)
53. Milked a cow
54. Alphabetized your CDs (what else would you do with them?)
55. Sung karaoke (poorly)
56. Lounged around in bed all day
57. Gone scuba diving
58. Kissed in the rain (and danced)
59. Gone to a drive-in theatre
60. Started a business
61. Taken a martial arts class
62. Been in a movie
63. Crashed a party
64. Gone without food for 5 days
65. Gotten a tattoo
66. Got flowers for no reason
67. Performed on stage (does the fourth-grade play count? I played a stewardess.)
68. Been to Las Vegas (ick)
69. Recorded music (I wrote one song with five chords on the guitar and recorded it on a cassette tape, dreamt of fame and fortune ala Indigo Girls, then promptly gave it all up)
70. Eaten shark
71. Buried one/both of your parents
72. Been on a cruise ship
73. Spoken more than one language fluently (aw man. Why don't they ever ask what languages you can read? Hebrew, Greek, German, and French!!! With dictionaries at hand anyway!)
74. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over (just to start a PhD anyway)
75. Walked a famous bridge (Brooklyn and the Golden Gate)
76. Had plastic surgery
77. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived (Does driving off a mountainside count?)
78. Wrote articles for a large publication
77. Tried to lose weight seriously.
79. Piloted an airplane
80. Petted a stingray
81. Broken someone’s heart
82. Broken a bone
83. Eaten sushi (yum!)
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Parasailed
86. Skipped all your school reunions
87. Shaved your head
88. Caused a car accident (Does backing into a schoolbus in high school count? I was digging around for my cigarettes while backing up. Good grief.)
89. Pretended to be “sick” (-cough- -cough-)
90. Swam in the Pacific Ocean (too cold!)
91. Saved someone’s life
92. Fainted (How Victorian of me.)
93. Been in the room while someone is giving birth (me!)
94. Hitchhiked
95. Adopted a child
96. Been caught daydreaming
97. Been to the Painted Desert
98. Called off a wedding engagement
99. Donated your blood
100. Become a follower of Jesus Christ (still working on this one.)
01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain (Mt McLoughlin in Oregon. Boy, did I regret my smoker's lungs then!)
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula (uhhh, no!)
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said “I love you’ and meant it!
09. Hugged a tree
10. Bungee jumped
11. Visited Paris (well, I saw the sunrise in Paris from the airport window on a brief layover on my way to Italy. But I figure since it was the sunrise it counts...)
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea
13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise
14. Seen the Northern Lights (in Beach Haven, NJ of all places!!! I had no idea what they were. I thought it was the end of the world. I was 20 years old and I'm ashamed to admit that I immediately repented of all my liberal beliefs in hopes that it would save me in the last minute. Pathetic.)
15. Gone to a huge sports game (World Series Game 4, 1993, Blue Jays v. Phillies in Philadelphia; Phillies lost.)
16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa (Okay, didn't walk to the top. They don't let you anymore. But I did stand right next to it.)
17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables (Well, I helped plant cucumbers one summer.)
18. Touched an iceberg
19. Slept under the stars (Absolutely! More than once!!!)
20. Changed a baby’s diaper (Absolutely...more than once...)
21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
22. Watched a meteor shower
23. Drunk champagne (-sigh-)
24. Given more than you can afford to charity
25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
27. Had a food fight
28. Bet on a winning horse
29. Asked out a stranger
30. Had a snowball fight (and lost.)
31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
32. Held a lamb
33. Seen a total eclipse
34. Ridden a roller coaster (hated it!)
35. Scored a winning goal (in, like, air hockey)
36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
37. Adopted an accent for an entire day
38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
39. Visited all 5 continents
40. Taken care of someone who was drunk
41. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
42. Watched wild whales
43. Stolen a sign
44. Backpacked
45. Taken a road-trip (our honeymoon was a roadtrip to New Orleans almost fourteen years ago. We went through Nashville, Memphis, and Graceland and stopped at deathrow in Alabama on the way home. Don't ask. We also made a trip across the U.S. in 2003 with five-year-old Monk in tow.)
46. Gone rock climbing
48. Midnight walk on the beach (and skinnydip, of course.)
49. Gone sky diving
50. Taken a train through Europe
51. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love
52. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table, and had a meal with them (at every meal on the train across country in 1989)
53. Milked a cow
54. Alphabetized your CDs (what else would you do with them?)
55. Sung karaoke (poorly)
56. Lounged around in bed all day
57. Gone scuba diving
58. Kissed in the rain (and danced)
59. Gone to a drive-in theatre
60. Started a business
61. Taken a martial arts class
62. Been in a movie
63. Crashed a party
64. Gone without food for 5 days
65. Gotten a tattoo
66. Got flowers for no reason
67. Performed on stage (does the fourth-grade play count? I played a stewardess.)
68. Been to Las Vegas (ick)
69. Recorded music (I wrote one song with five chords on the guitar and recorded it on a cassette tape, dreamt of fame and fortune ala Indigo Girls, then promptly gave it all up)
70. Eaten shark
71. Buried one/both of your parents
72. Been on a cruise ship
73. Spoken more than one language fluently (aw man. Why don't they ever ask what languages you can read? Hebrew, Greek, German, and French!!! With dictionaries at hand anyway!)
74. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over (just to start a PhD anyway)
75. Walked a famous bridge (Brooklyn and the Golden Gate)
76. Had plastic surgery
77. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived (Does driving off a mountainside count?)
78. Wrote articles for a large publication
77. Tried to lose weight seriously.
79. Piloted an airplane
80. Petted a stingray
81. Broken someone’s heart
82. Broken a bone
83. Eaten sushi (yum!)
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Parasailed
86. Skipped all your school reunions
87. Shaved your head
88. Caused a car accident (Does backing into a schoolbus in high school count? I was digging around for my cigarettes while backing up. Good grief.)
89. Pretended to be “sick” (-cough- -cough-)
90. Swam in the Pacific Ocean (too cold!)
91. Saved someone’s life
92. Fainted (How Victorian of me.)
93. Been in the room while someone is giving birth (me!)
94. Hitchhiked
95. Adopted a child
96. Been caught daydreaming
97. Been to the Painted Desert
98. Called off a wedding engagement
99. Donated your blood
100. Become a follower of Jesus Christ (still working on this one.)
Saturday, November 25, 2006
What's Beginning to Emerge
I haven't managed to get myself back into West Coast time yet. Last night I (barely) managed to stay up 'til 11. (If you don't count snoozing on the couch for an hour before that.) But still can't seem to sleep past 6 in the morning.The nice thing about that is two or three hours of a quiet apartment, some "stolen" time to get some work done. It's a beautifully peaceful feeling.
This morning I've been doing some work in preparation for our class this Tuesday. I haven't written much (if at all) about this course I've been co-teaching. I think it's one of those professional/personal boundary things when it comes to blogging, I suppose. But my lack of writing about it here doesn't convey the extent to which teaching this class has been an excellent, wonderful, fantastic experience over these past few months.
The course is focused on Worship in the 21st Century, with a particular eye toward postmodernism. This coming week (our last week of instruction before student presentations on their final projects), we'll be looking at emergent worship. This morning I've been reading through some of the many websites dedicated to the subject. This alone is a fascinating aspect of the emergent movement(s)--how web-based it is!
To be honest, my heartbeat is quickening as I look through all this stuff. Emergent has been a woefully neglected part of my PhD education in liturgical studies. What I am learning about it, I am doing on my own. And what I am feeling, to an increasingly fervent degree, is that it's exactly where I ought to be putting my energies right now. (The parrots are flying by as I write that sentence. I'm starting to trust the parrots' arrival.) :)
On Saturday evening at the AAR I attended an "additional meeting" session that focused on the Emergent Movement. Brian McLaren, Phyllis Tickle, and Peter Rollins were on the panel. Each person spoke for about twenty minutes and each was brilliant. It was thrilling to me to hear intellectually stimulating, grounded (and yet visionary), substantive reflections from these three "movers and shakers" in the Emergent movement. For an mp3 of Peter Rollins's remarks at AAR visit here. (With thanks to pomomusings.) Whereas I went into the session fearing that Emergent is more of a flash-in-the-pan, I left feeling certain that this movement truly holds (lightly and reverently, it seems) the future of the church in its hands. (Not in the hands of those three individuals, but in the hands of all the networks and gathered emergent people across the world.) This is something that can't be ignored. And I feel excited to be on this edge of the movement with my academic career yet in front of me.
If you're interested in knowing what the heck I'm talking about (I barely know myself), take a look at these websites.
Emergent Village
EmergingChuch.Info (interview with Peter Rollins)
Ikon, the emerging "becoming church" community founded by Rollins in Belfast, Ireland
Vintage Faith
Friday, November 24, 2006
The Gift of More
Last Spring when I wrote my two devotionals for the RevGalBlogPal's book Ordinary Time (advertised at right), November seemed so unimaginably far away. But here we are, about to heft the last days of the month onto our backs and carry them into December. I shamelessly invite you over to Ordinary Time to read the devotionals I wrote for yesterday and today. Both of them are based on the same text--David's last words--which are part of the lectionary readings for this coming Sunday when we celebrate Christ the King.
As I recuperated over the past couple weeks during my blogging hiatus, I sadly missed my first blogiversary. I published my first entry here on the Blanket in the Grove on November 14, 2005. If you're disposed to such things, I invite to you to take a step back for a moment and read my debut here. At that time I had just returned from the East Coast (as I have now, as well!); I was preparing with great (and as it turns out, unnecessary) trepidation to propose my comprehensive exams, (I'm now preparing for my final, oral exam next week); and had just been licensed for ministry in my congregation (where my hours expanded considerably for this current year).
Each of these things continue to be the benchmarks that help me know my place in this world. I had titled that first entry "In Between" and in some ways I wonder if this is always my experience. There is an enduring sense of being on a journey (as I know so many of us feel) and that the in-betweenness of that journey is the gift of it. Every arrival eventually becomes an invitation to set out again toward another unknown.
So I am recently returned from the East Coast again--arrived Tuesday night from Washington DC where I attended my first-ever Annual Meeting of the American Academy of Religion and Society for Biblical Literature. As D pulled the car up at the airport about 8:00 on the night I arrived, Monk spotted me and opened his door before the car had come to a complete stop--so eager was he to greet his ol' Mom. There was no danger, really, the car was going slow enough by that point and he was well-strapped in. But it did give me a bit of a start!
I want to always remember the moment, though--the prodigal son who looks with overflowing eagerness for the return of his mum. In the car as we drove back home, Monk burst over with stories and laughter. When I would turn and look at him, I was amazed at the light in his eyes. I felt it all as gift.
Going to AAR was everything I needed it to be. I am so glad I was there this year. It got me out of the cozy box I'd had to live in over the past year as I answered the questions for my exams. It reminded me of all the amazing questions being asked by academics all over the world. It demystified some of the Big Names I've been reading all these years--I got to see them as people, laugh at their jokes, appreciate their three-dimensional humanness rather than their two-dimensional texts!
I was also able to reconnect with old friends in a way that simply helps me remember who I am.
I also was able to talk with people fruitfully about the next step in front of me--proposing and writing my dissertation. I won't say much about that now, but imagine it will be a subject which accompanies me in this blog for some time to come now.
One of the highlights of the trip, rather unexpectedly, was the opportunity to go to an exhibit at the Sackler Gallery (one of the museums of the Smithsonian Institute) where they featured Bibles (as in codices, scrolls, papyri, and eventually manuscripts) prior to the year 1000. You can read more about it here. What an awesome experience! With all the talk about fragmentation in postmodernity, it was humbling, indeed, to see the fragments out of which we have pieced together our scriptures. There is something fundamentally deceptive about the neatly contained, uninterrupted solidity of our bibles published by major publishing houses today. It was truly humbling to see the fragments of our scriptural origins, their very physical tentativeness seems to stand as a crying plea to careful, gentle, tentative exegesis--rather than the heavy-handed, confident, and stern certainty that all too often is our approach to biblical texts.
Not only that, but the reverent beauty with which many of these pages were created was awe-inspiring. Though I have to say that it occurred to me at one point that these pages were once somebody's deadline. Perhaps merely what had to get done, somebody's work. My sense is that they were not alienated from their work, as we so often are from our own. But I bet there were at least some moments when the monk working on his page felt the pressure to simply get it done. Perhaps he suffered from a sleepless night on occasion, worrying about the page he had yet to finish. This thought pleases me for some reason. To see the page a thousand years later seems to give those moments simultaneously unbearable weight and unbearable lightness. It matters; it matters not.
Well, there still feels like more to say. And for this, in and of itself, I am grateful. Too many weeks of dry silence in my world. So good to wake up to fresh dew on the grass.
Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving.
As I recuperated over the past couple weeks during my blogging hiatus, I sadly missed my first blogiversary. I published my first entry here on the Blanket in the Grove on November 14, 2005. If you're disposed to such things, I invite to you to take a step back for a moment and read my debut here. At that time I had just returned from the East Coast (as I have now, as well!); I was preparing with great (and as it turns out, unnecessary) trepidation to propose my comprehensive exams, (I'm now preparing for my final, oral exam next week); and had just been licensed for ministry in my congregation (where my hours expanded considerably for this current year).
Each of these things continue to be the benchmarks that help me know my place in this world. I had titled that first entry "In Between" and in some ways I wonder if this is always my experience. There is an enduring sense of being on a journey (as I know so many of us feel) and that the in-betweenness of that journey is the gift of it. Every arrival eventually becomes an invitation to set out again toward another unknown.
So I am recently returned from the East Coast again--arrived Tuesday night from Washington DC where I attended my first-ever Annual Meeting of the American Academy of Religion and Society for Biblical Literature. As D pulled the car up at the airport about 8:00 on the night I arrived, Monk spotted me and opened his door before the car had come to a complete stop--so eager was he to greet his ol' Mom. There was no danger, really, the car was going slow enough by that point and he was well-strapped in. But it did give me a bit of a start!
I want to always remember the moment, though--the prodigal son who looks with overflowing eagerness for the return of his mum. In the car as we drove back home, Monk burst over with stories and laughter. When I would turn and look at him, I was amazed at the light in his eyes. I felt it all as gift.
Going to AAR was everything I needed it to be. I am so glad I was there this year. It got me out of the cozy box I'd had to live in over the past year as I answered the questions for my exams. It reminded me of all the amazing questions being asked by academics all over the world. It demystified some of the Big Names I've been reading all these years--I got to see them as people, laugh at their jokes, appreciate their three-dimensional humanness rather than their two-dimensional texts!
I was also able to reconnect with old friends in a way that simply helps me remember who I am.
I also was able to talk with people fruitfully about the next step in front of me--proposing and writing my dissertation. I won't say much about that now, but imagine it will be a subject which accompanies me in this blog for some time to come now.
One of the highlights of the trip, rather unexpectedly, was the opportunity to go to an exhibit at the Sackler Gallery (one of the museums of the Smithsonian Institute) where they featured Bibles (as in codices, scrolls, papyri, and eventually manuscripts) prior to the year 1000. You can read more about it here. What an awesome experience! With all the talk about fragmentation in postmodernity, it was humbling, indeed, to see the fragments out of which we have pieced together our scriptures. There is something fundamentally deceptive about the neatly contained, uninterrupted solidity of our bibles published by major publishing houses today. It was truly humbling to see the fragments of our scriptural origins, their very physical tentativeness seems to stand as a crying plea to careful, gentle, tentative exegesis--rather than the heavy-handed, confident, and stern certainty that all too often is our approach to biblical texts.
Not only that, but the reverent beauty with which many of these pages were created was awe-inspiring. Though I have to say that it occurred to me at one point that these pages were once somebody's deadline. Perhaps merely what had to get done, somebody's work. My sense is that they were not alienated from their work, as we so often are from our own. But I bet there were at least some moments when the monk working on his page felt the pressure to simply get it done. Perhaps he suffered from a sleepless night on occasion, worrying about the page he had yet to finish. This thought pleases me for some reason. To see the page a thousand years later seems to give those moments simultaneously unbearable weight and unbearable lightness. It matters; it matters not.
Well, there still feels like more to say. And for this, in and of itself, I am grateful. Too many weeks of dry silence in my world. So good to wake up to fresh dew on the grass.
Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving.
Monday, November 13, 2006
Absenteeism
I have been in the midst of a rather unplanned blogging hiatus lately. It has everything to do with just finishing my comps. The written ones, anyway. My oral exam still awaits me at the end of this month.
It is a testament to just how insanely I worked over the month of October that in the week after finishing the exams, both my body and my computer decided they could go on no further.
I continued with some pretty fantastic back pain for a week or more after the last exam. The remnants of this pain are still with me. I am not entirely free of it. So I proceed cautiously.
Meanwhile, my computer stopped communicating with its power cord and refused, utterly refused, to believe it was plugged into the socket. After about a week of feeling lost and disenfranchised, I managed to get it back up and running with the simplest and least expensive solution (a new cord was needed, not a new port).
Despite the pain I was experiencing and the loss of my computer for a week, all I could do was thank God that these things happened after the exams were written and not in the midst of them. And as for the pain itself, I felt I had to absorb it, mind it, and apologize to myself for taking such poor care of my body in the midst of my work.
I expect my postings will still be sporadic as I prepare to leave for the American Academy of Religion conference happening in Washington DC at the end of this week. I hope I'll be able to get some blogging done from there, but we'll have to see how the schedule goes.
I do hope, though, to be back up and running consistently very soon. I've missed this space and the relationships I've experienced here.
Peace and love.
It is a testament to just how insanely I worked over the month of October that in the week after finishing the exams, both my body and my computer decided they could go on no further.
I continued with some pretty fantastic back pain for a week or more after the last exam. The remnants of this pain are still with me. I am not entirely free of it. So I proceed cautiously.
Meanwhile, my computer stopped communicating with its power cord and refused, utterly refused, to believe it was plugged into the socket. After about a week of feeling lost and disenfranchised, I managed to get it back up and running with the simplest and least expensive solution (a new cord was needed, not a new port).
Despite the pain I was experiencing and the loss of my computer for a week, all I could do was thank God that these things happened after the exams were written and not in the midst of them. And as for the pain itself, I felt I had to absorb it, mind it, and apologize to myself for taking such poor care of my body in the midst of my work.
I expect my postings will still be sporadic as I prepare to leave for the American Academy of Religion conference happening in Washington DC at the end of this week. I hope I'll be able to get some blogging done from there, but we'll have to see how the schedule goes.
I do hope, though, to be back up and running consistently very soon. I've missed this space and the relationships I've experienced here.
Peace and love.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Life on the Other Side of Done
The big news: I have now finished my written exams!!! As of Friday at about 4:30 pm, I completed my last one--six exams in all! And it feels great to be done!
I have been gradually returning to life over the past few days. After an initial 'high' on Friday evening, boy, did I crash this weekend. I'm glad I hadn't ended up planning a grand celebration. (We considered possibly going away for the weekend, since I had Sunday off from church.) But I don't think I could have possibly done it!
Friday night, about 2:30 in the morning, I woke up in awful pain. I had a pain in my back, just between my shoulder blades, that was just shooting through me, especially down my left arm, but also just all over. I've never felt anything like it before. And I have to admit, I was a little worried it had something to do with my heart--especially since women's symptoms are so different than men's when it comes to heart stuff.
But I decided it couldn't be that, took a couple ibuprofin, got out the heating pad, and managed after a while to get back to sleep. Next morning when I woke up, everything still hurt, though not quite as terribly as it had been. Even so I couldn't turn my head very far in either direction and felt stiff and achey all over. Miserable!
Little by little, in the daylight hours, it dawned on me--the pain was from sitting and typing furiously for four hours straight without even the slightest pause. This was my body in an uproar at all the anxiety as well as no small amount of physical punishment I'd put it through. I crashed on the couch and barely ventured far from it for the next two days. I had truly pushed myself to the edge of exhaustion!
D was not the least bit surprised. And he was wonderful about letting me catch up on sleep. I was surprised, though. I mean, I knew it had been hard work and that I had a lot of stress built up around this stuff, but I was completely unprepared for the physical crash after the experience. I just marvel at that.
Yesterday afternoon, D had a hockey game and cookout with his team. He took Monk with him and left me home to laze about happily and drowsily. I flicked through the channels and came across one of my all-time favorite movies: Same Time Next Year. I can't count the number of times I've watched that movie over the past twenty years or so. But it makes me cry at all the same places, without fail, every time. It was the perfect movie to watch yesterday.
Except I was amazed to realize that the last video montage (there are numerous ones placed between the scenes to mark the passage of time) was from 1977. And everything in it seemed so vividly memorable to me. And that was thirty years ago. In fact, when I first started to watch Same Time Next Year, the video montages from the 1950s which open the film were just about equidistant from me then (in, say, 1986) as the 1970s ones are from me today. That just makes my head spin.
Then I happened on the channel SoapNet (!) and completely indulged in watching a week's worth of General Hospital episodes. (It think it's been about seven years since I've watched GH--the last time was probably when Monk would take his afternoon naps as an infant.) But it was so cool to catch this particular week, for those of you may have loved GH once upon a time, because Laura came out of her four-year coma by the end of that week. In time for Luke and Laura's thirty year anniversary which comes up next month, apparently. :D
They've got a few of the real old timer characters from the late 70s early 80s--including Robert Scorpio, Robin Scorpio, and Luke and Laura. And of course the Quartermaine gang still going strong. A baby named after Lila Quartermaine was also born in the episodes I was watching yesterday. (None of this will make any sense to someone who's never been a fan of the show.)
Well, as you can see, it was a great day. A good, if hazy weekend. And I am trying to take things slowly as I recover from this giant push.
Next steps? Scheduling my oral exam (likely not 'til the end of November/beginning of December, unfortunately.) And working on my dissertation proposal.
I have been gradually returning to life over the past few days. After an initial 'high' on Friday evening, boy, did I crash this weekend. I'm glad I hadn't ended up planning a grand celebration. (We considered possibly going away for the weekend, since I had Sunday off from church.) But I don't think I could have possibly done it!
Friday night, about 2:30 in the morning, I woke up in awful pain. I had a pain in my back, just between my shoulder blades, that was just shooting through me, especially down my left arm, but also just all over. I've never felt anything like it before. And I have to admit, I was a little worried it had something to do with my heart--especially since women's symptoms are so different than men's when it comes to heart stuff.
But I decided it couldn't be that, took a couple ibuprofin, got out the heating pad, and managed after a while to get back to sleep. Next morning when I woke up, everything still hurt, though not quite as terribly as it had been. Even so I couldn't turn my head very far in either direction and felt stiff and achey all over. Miserable!
Little by little, in the daylight hours, it dawned on me--the pain was from sitting and typing furiously for four hours straight without even the slightest pause. This was my body in an uproar at all the anxiety as well as no small amount of physical punishment I'd put it through. I crashed on the couch and barely ventured far from it for the next two days. I had truly pushed myself to the edge of exhaustion!
D was not the least bit surprised. And he was wonderful about letting me catch up on sleep. I was surprised, though. I mean, I knew it had been hard work and that I had a lot of stress built up around this stuff, but I was completely unprepared for the physical crash after the experience. I just marvel at that.
Yesterday afternoon, D had a hockey game and cookout with his team. He took Monk with him and left me home to laze about happily and drowsily. I flicked through the channels and came across one of my all-time favorite movies: Same Time Next Year. I can't count the number of times I've watched that movie over the past twenty years or so. But it makes me cry at all the same places, without fail, every time. It was the perfect movie to watch yesterday.
Except I was amazed to realize that the last video montage (there are numerous ones placed between the scenes to mark the passage of time) was from 1977. And everything in it seemed so vividly memorable to me. And that was thirty years ago. In fact, when I first started to watch Same Time Next Year, the video montages from the 1950s which open the film were just about equidistant from me then (in, say, 1986) as the 1970s ones are from me today. That just makes my head spin.
Then I happened on the channel SoapNet (!) and completely indulged in watching a week's worth of General Hospital episodes. (It think it's been about seven years since I've watched GH--the last time was probably when Monk would take his afternoon naps as an infant.) But it was so cool to catch this particular week, for those of you may have loved GH once upon a time, because Laura came out of her four-year coma by the end of that week. In time for Luke and Laura's thirty year anniversary which comes up next month, apparently. :D
They've got a few of the real old timer characters from the late 70s early 80s--including Robert Scorpio, Robin Scorpio, and Luke and Laura. And of course the Quartermaine gang still going strong. A baby named after Lila Quartermaine was also born in the episodes I was watching yesterday. (None of this will make any sense to someone who's never been a fan of the show.)
Well, as you can see, it was a great day. A good, if hazy weekend. And I am trying to take things slowly as I recover from this giant push.
Next steps? Scheduling my oral exam (likely not 'til the end of November/beginning of December, unfortunately.) And working on my dissertation proposal.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
South Beach Diet...(for Cats)
Still slogging away at my exams. Finished one more last Friday. One written, timed exam to go. My heart is on taking it this Friday, too. Though waiting 'til Monday may be the more realistic option. I just soooo want to have my weekend finally free. Keeping my head in the books, but in the meantime, life delights in unexpected ways. Here's one.
My cat Felix. There's never been another one like him. This summer I discovered, for instance, that he goes bonkers for corn husks. There was a husk hanging out of the bottom crisper drawer one day and Felix started gnawing on it with obvious delight. After that I tried to keep fresh corn around, and each day would peel off a leaf of the husk and let him go at it. He would rapturously consume it every time.
A couple days ago I decided to pick up the South Beach diet again--wanting to shed a few pounds that seem to have wandered back over the past year or so. Well, turns out Felix loves just about everything I'm eating these days. Now whenever I sit down to eat my snack (usually string cheese or Laughing Cow cheese on celery) he's right beside me, meowing, yowling, and nudging my plate and hands until I give something up. I've also felt compelled to share some salmon and tuna with him, too. He gobbled the tuna down with such obvious joy. (Certainly more than I could muster as I dragged myself through that particular salad!)
What a dear companion he is. :) I dunno, maybe he's trying to lose a few pounds, too. Here's an especially undignified photo of him squashed up beside me on the sofa.
My cat Felix. There's never been another one like him. This summer I discovered, for instance, that he goes bonkers for corn husks. There was a husk hanging out of the bottom crisper drawer one day and Felix started gnawing on it with obvious delight. After that I tried to keep fresh corn around, and each day would peel off a leaf of the husk and let him go at it. He would rapturously consume it every time.
A couple days ago I decided to pick up the South Beach diet again--wanting to shed a few pounds that seem to have wandered back over the past year or so. Well, turns out Felix loves just about everything I'm eating these days. Now whenever I sit down to eat my snack (usually string cheese or Laughing Cow cheese on celery) he's right beside me, meowing, yowling, and nudging my plate and hands until I give something up. I've also felt compelled to share some salmon and tuna with him, too. He gobbled the tuna down with such obvious joy. (Certainly more than I could muster as I dragged myself through that particular salad!)
What a dear companion he is. :) I dunno, maybe he's trying to lose a few pounds, too. Here's an especially undignified photo of him squashed up beside me on the sofa.
Monday, October 16, 2006
After School Conversation
Those who are close to me know that I am in the midst of major academic work right now as I try and complete my comprehensive exams by the end of this month. For that reason, I have mostly had to neglect my blog until my time opens a bit more generously in November. However, today I just had to get down the conversation I just shared with Monk, my wonderful eight-year-old son.
Monk: Mom, I had to go see the principal with Tough Guy today.
Me: What happened?
Monk: Well, there's a real problem with cooties at school right now. See, I don't believe in cooties. I actually think they were just invented to keep boys and girls separate. But someone passed them on to me, and even though I don't believe in them, I had to get rid of them.
Me: (marveling) So what did you do?
Monk: I passed them on to Tough Guy. And then he hit me in the stomach. And we had to go see the principal. But it turns out, after we talked, that I had gotten him harder than I meant to when I passed the cooties on to him. And he thought I hit him. So he hit me back.
Me: So everything's alright now?
Monk: Yeah, but cooties are a real problem at school. So me, Tough Guy, and Principal have decided to ban them.
Me: Sounds like a good idea. But what if someone passes them on to you anyway?
Monk: I don't know. We didn't get that far.
Me: (reaching behind me to my belt) Here, I have some anti-cootie spray that I always keep with me. (I hand him the invisible spray bottle) If someone passes cooties on to you, just take out your spray and tssshhhht (pretending to spray all around me) tell 'em it doesn't matter 'cause you have anti-cootie spray.
Monk smiles and puts the invisible bottle of spray behind his back as he makes the sound of a 'click'--clearly securing to his own belt the antidote for the thing he doesn't believe in which he's banned from school grounds.
Life is great.
Monk: Mom, I had to go see the principal with Tough Guy today.
Me: What happened?
Monk: Well, there's a real problem with cooties at school right now. See, I don't believe in cooties. I actually think they were just invented to keep boys and girls separate. But someone passed them on to me, and even though I don't believe in them, I had to get rid of them.
Me: (marveling) So what did you do?
Monk: I passed them on to Tough Guy. And then he hit me in the stomach. And we had to go see the principal. But it turns out, after we talked, that I had gotten him harder than I meant to when I passed the cooties on to him. And he thought I hit him. So he hit me back.
Me: So everything's alright now?
Monk: Yeah, but cooties are a real problem at school. So me, Tough Guy, and Principal have decided to ban them.
Me: Sounds like a good idea. But what if someone passes them on to you anyway?
Monk: I don't know. We didn't get that far.
Me: (reaching behind me to my belt) Here, I have some anti-cootie spray that I always keep with me. (I hand him the invisible spray bottle) If someone passes cooties on to you, just take out your spray and tssshhhht (pretending to spray all around me) tell 'em it doesn't matter 'cause you have anti-cootie spray.
Monk smiles and puts the invisible bottle of spray behind his back as he makes the sound of a 'click'--clearly securing to his own belt the antidote for the thing he doesn't believe in which he's banned from school grounds.
Life is great.
Monday, October 09, 2006
New Worlds to Learn
Last Thursday evening we signed up Monk for aiki-jujutsu classes. This is the first time he's ever taken any martial arts classes--in fact, D and I have never had them ourselves. (Although, interestingly enough, both my brother and my Mom have taken martial arts classes in the past. Mom started them when she was in her fifties, I guess. Cool mom.)
After checking out the website for the particular dojo where we would take Monk, having a phone conversation with the sensei (yet another vocabulary to learn!!!), and visiting on Thursday evening--I was especially excited to have Monk begin.
But I was also surprised by the amount of misgiving I had about it. First of all, and I don't know how I'd managed to miss this as long as I did, I'd managed to forget that the word martial connotes military. I guess that's where we get the concept of martial law, for instance.
The sensei sent us home with a book about aiki-jujutsu and as I read through it, I was surprised and a bit concerned to see the military principles incorporated in the practice of akai-jujutsu. (The section that lauded the people who had committed suicide--warriors, women, and children, alike--was more than I could stomach.) Suddenly I became aware that basically we'd signed Monk up for Japanese military school. And I didn't know quite how I felt about that.
At the same time, I was delighted to see that this place takes its Japanese heritage very seriously. Inasmuch as it's possible to contextualize the discipline of aiki-jujutsu in Japanese culture, this dojo is interested in pursuing that. Given that the class we're teaching tomorrow has to do with liturgical inculturation, I'm especially interested in how this is possible!
Quite related to this, the other thing that I was surprised to be concerned about is the extent to which aiki-jujustu is part of another faith. As a family raising our son in a Christian family, I was surprised to find myself a bit concerned about introducing our eight-year-old to another way of conceiving of the world. And I am more than a little chagrined that Christianity has failed for the most part to teach children the contemplative aspects of our faith. The dojo where Monk will be going teaches Japanese yoga to the kids as well as martial arts.
At the end of our appointment with the sensei last week, he asked Monk: "So, do you want to practice?"
Monk nodded and immediately began to take off his shoes to climb onto the mat. But I could tell, after a moment, that the teacher wasn't asking him to step out immediately. Then it dawned on me--he was asking Monk if he wanted to engage in the practice of learning aiki-jujutsu.
This is how I've come to love to think of Christianity, although I don't think it's a widely held perspective anymore. Recently I read a liturgical theologian who pointed out that in the first century, Christianity was not a "worldview"--that is, a way of perceiving the world; rather it was a practice, which is to say, a way of being in the world.
This is precisely the thing that I feel like Christianity has failed to teach kids so far (and I implicate myself in this as well). And yet, at least at this particular dojo, they seem to teach it unapologetically.
I dropped Monk off at the dojo this evening. The class meets four times a week, although we'll only be taking him three of those time. The other evening he'll be at church. I could tell I was feeling nervous, because I simply wasn't sure what he would be taught.
But when I picked him up, he was aglow. Most of the first session was "lecture." And I could tell he'd listened closely. When I arrived, as I waited outside, I saw the kids lying on their backs, clearly learning some of the yoga positions. I was surprised to find it moving. And was grateful that the teacher seems to trust the kids -- and respect them enough -- to teach them these things.
These are some initial thoughts. Though I have others. Better keep it here for now.
Peace.
After checking out the website for the particular dojo where we would take Monk, having a phone conversation with the sensei (yet another vocabulary to learn!!!), and visiting on Thursday evening--I was especially excited to have Monk begin.
But I was also surprised by the amount of misgiving I had about it. First of all, and I don't know how I'd managed to miss this as long as I did, I'd managed to forget that the word martial connotes military. I guess that's where we get the concept of martial law, for instance.
The sensei sent us home with a book about aiki-jujutsu and as I read through it, I was surprised and a bit concerned to see the military principles incorporated in the practice of akai-jujutsu. (The section that lauded the people who had committed suicide--warriors, women, and children, alike--was more than I could stomach.) Suddenly I became aware that basically we'd signed Monk up for Japanese military school. And I didn't know quite how I felt about that.
At the same time, I was delighted to see that this place takes its Japanese heritage very seriously. Inasmuch as it's possible to contextualize the discipline of aiki-jujutsu in Japanese culture, this dojo is interested in pursuing that. Given that the class we're teaching tomorrow has to do with liturgical inculturation, I'm especially interested in how this is possible!
Quite related to this, the other thing that I was surprised to be concerned about is the extent to which aiki-jujustu is part of another faith. As a family raising our son in a Christian family, I was surprised to find myself a bit concerned about introducing our eight-year-old to another way of conceiving of the world. And I am more than a little chagrined that Christianity has failed for the most part to teach children the contemplative aspects of our faith. The dojo where Monk will be going teaches Japanese yoga to the kids as well as martial arts.
At the end of our appointment with the sensei last week, he asked Monk: "So, do you want to practice?"
Monk nodded and immediately began to take off his shoes to climb onto the mat. But I could tell, after a moment, that the teacher wasn't asking him to step out immediately. Then it dawned on me--he was asking Monk if he wanted to engage in the practice of learning aiki-jujutsu.
This is how I've come to love to think of Christianity, although I don't think it's a widely held perspective anymore. Recently I read a liturgical theologian who pointed out that in the first century, Christianity was not a "worldview"--that is, a way of perceiving the world; rather it was a practice, which is to say, a way of being in the world.
This is precisely the thing that I feel like Christianity has failed to teach kids so far (and I implicate myself in this as well). And yet, at least at this particular dojo, they seem to teach it unapologetically.
I dropped Monk off at the dojo this evening. The class meets four times a week, although we'll only be taking him three of those time. The other evening he'll be at church. I could tell I was feeling nervous, because I simply wasn't sure what he would be taught.
But when I picked him up, he was aglow. Most of the first session was "lecture." And I could tell he'd listened closely. When I arrived, as I waited outside, I saw the kids lying on their backs, clearly learning some of the yoga positions. I was surprised to find it moving. And was grateful that the teacher seems to trust the kids -- and respect them enough -- to teach them these things.
These are some initial thoughts. Though I have others. Better keep it here for now.
Peace.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Four Down, Two to Go!!!!
I just finished another comprehensive exam! This one was one of the most difficult subjects I've ever written on. I'd proposed the question because it was on a subject (liturgical aesthetics) I did not yet understand but desperately wanted to. And now I truly have a decent handle on it.
Beautiful.
I'm taking the night off.
(And the parrots are flying over as I write this...)
-sigh of contentment-
Beautiful.
I'm taking the night off.
(And the parrots are flying over as I write this...)
-sigh of contentment-
We're Living a Calvin & Hobbes Comic Around Here
At 2:45 a.m. while D & I were fast asleep, we hear the call from Monk's room: "Mom! Dad!"
"Yes?" We both call out in alarmed reply.
There is a brief pause. "Okay, now I have two questions." announces the Monk. "First, can I have a drink of water so I can get back to sleep? And second, what the heck are you two doing up at this hour?"
"Yes?" We both call out in alarmed reply.
There is a brief pause. "Okay, now I have two questions." announces the Monk. "First, can I have a drink of water so I can get back to sleep? And second, what the heck are you two doing up at this hour?"
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Day at the Races
Last Saturday we went to the races and people-watched more than watched the races. Great characters.
Captain's Log - Star Date 09282006
Inspired by Katherine's post on The Princess Bride . . .For about two weeks now, (thanks to my brother's gift of Netflix for D's birthday this summer!) the three of us have been slowly making our way through the Star Trek movies. It has been so fun to introduce the 8-year-old to the world of Star Trek.
In many ways, Monk is really my fantasy/sci-fi buddy. When he was three, we read through the Chronicles of Narnia twice in one year. At the same age, we also read Wizard of Oz. When he was seven, he devoured all of the Harry Potter series. And he loves A Series of Unfortunate Events. Last winter we read The Hobbit and watched all three Lord of the Rings over the winter holiday. And, as of two days ago, he finished reading Fellowship of the Ring entirely on his own (in just over seven days. Not bad for a third-grader)!
I've always known that it would only be a matter of time before we dove into the world of Star Trek. And so I was delighted when a couple weeks ago after I suggested it, he jumped at the chance. I've never been a trekkie, mind you. Closest I ever came was a short-lived love of Star Trek: The Next Generation in the early nineties. But I have a deep affection for the series--and simply love, always, to get lost in other worlds--as does my boy.
We're watching them all in order. The first one was unbearably artsy-fartsy. Long, drawn-out scenes of spaceships docking while lush music plays. Clearly very influenced by the film 2001, the first Star Trek seemed to imagine itself to be quite grand in those days. But as the series goes on, it gets increasingly light-hearted. One of our favorites was Star Trek V in which the crew has to travel back in time to 1986 San Francisco in order to save humpback whales from extinction. Except for some pretty atrocious acting by a supporting actress, the movie tripped lightly and humorously through its storyline. Glimpses of William Shatner's irony-laden character that he plays today on Boston Legal shone through in moments. The series seems to come to life when it stops taking itself so darn seriously!
The other night we watched Star Trek VI: The Final Frontier, in which the crew of the starship enterprise encounters "God" who has gotten stranded on a planet in the center of the universe. Our whole family groaned aloud--Monk included--when we heard everyone referring to God as "he." Then when they depicted "God" as an old, white man with a long, white beard, our heads fell into our hands. The next day, though, while talking about the movie, Monk reflected on how they had portrayed God in the film--and how it conflicted with his own image of God. Very cool.
With any luck, tonight we'll be watching Star Trek: Generations, the seventh in the dynasty--and the first one to say farewell to the old crew and welcome in Patrick Stewart to the role of captain. (Ahhh, Patrick Stewart.)
It has been truly such fun to introduce my dear son to Star Trek. But last night, I pulled him close to me and apologized: "I'm just loving watching these movies with you," I started out, "But I'm awfully sorry if I'm turning you into a total nerd in the process."
"Aw, it's alright, Mom." He said, "I haven't told anyone at school that I've seen 'em." Wise beyond his years.
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