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To AKMA's Seabury-Western Home Page Email me at Seabury AUTHENTICITY PREMISES Voice, Authenticity, Style, Politics Faculty and Administration of the University of Blogaria  Prof. of Hyperlinked Humanities, Primus Inter Pares David Weinberger Provost and Vice Chancellor of Imaginary Affairs Frank Paynter Wealth Bondage Registrar Halley Suitt Dean of Memetic Engineering and Reader of Thoughts Kevin Marks Research Professor of Markup Cryptology Phil Ringnalda Murasaki Shikibu and Sei Shonagon Foundation Professor of Early Japanese Literature Jonathan Delacour Abraham J. Simpson Chair of Desultory Conjecture Steve Himmer Clued Professor of Micro-journalism and Women's Studies Jeneane Sessum Prof. of Digital Psychometry Eric Norlin Christopher Locke Prof. of Comparative Kim Novak Ray Davis Ho Chi Minh Chair in Vietnamese Studies & American Poetry Joseph Duemer Section 508 Prof. of Web Accesibility and Useability Mark Pilgrim Professor of Haemophagy and Laputan Linguistics Naomi Chana Harley Davidson Saddle of Comparative Literature Tom Matrullo Prof. of Melanesian Hermeneutics Alex Golub Prof. of Linguistics Dorothea Salo Zimmerman Professor of Music and Poetics Mike Golby Senior Lecturer in Tlonian Area Studies and Chaplain A. K. M. Adam Szarkowski Chair of Photography Jeff Ward Prof. of Analytic Philosophy and Korean Area Studies Stavros Alfred E. Newman Foundation Chair in International Blogging Relations Shelley Powers Prof. of Gluation and Scissorology Mark Woods Professor of Folklore & Mythology Renee Perlmutter Crone-in-Residence, Purveyor of Eclectic Mysticism�??�?� and Professor of Rhetorical Ritual Elaine de Kalilily Prof. of Fractured Philosophy Tom Shugart Director of Music, Blogaria School of Divinity Tripp Hudgins House Band Shannon Campbell Audio-Visual Guy Josiah Adam Campus Cat Dizzy, at Allan Moult's place DAILY BLOGS The Usual Posse Doc Searls Dave Rogers Victor Echo Zulu Gary Turner Textism Jordon Cooper Elke (Sisco) Zimmermann sacra doctrina Mike Sanders ZINES The Ekklesia Project Fellowship 
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Saturday, April 27, 2002 ( 11:19 PM ) Come What MayRemember how, around Oscars time, people were saying that Moulin Rouge was a love-it-or-hate-it movie? Margaret and I had steered clear of it, reasoning that if it's a binary phenomenon and some of the critics we respect were dismissive, then we wouldn't want to risk an evening on it.Well, Nate--who loves opera and musical theater, and thinks a lot of Ewan McGregor--determined that he was going to like it, so he bought the DVD. After a first viewing by our offspring, the verdict was unanimously, enthusiastically positive. Nate and Si were articulate about the ingenuity of the musical arrangements, the quality of McGregor's and Kidman's singing, and the cinematography, and they reminded us that we had loved Strictly Ballroom, Baz Luhrmann's breakthrough movie. Pippa just gave the movie two thumbs up, but her thumbs are extremely convincing. In a word, though, Margaret and I. . . didn't like it. We didn't like those songs in the first place, most of them, and we found the arrangements subtle and clever, but unconvincing. The plot was tiresomely obvious. The cinematography and staging were so powerful that they overshadowed the thin plot. After about the first half-hour, we were mostly just waiting for Nicole Kidman (whose performance was indeed impressive) to succumb to her respiratory misery so we could go back upstairs and get on with our evening. Sorry, kids; maybe it's a generational thing. Permalink -Main Page- Friday, April 26, 2002 ( 9:28 PM ) Catching up on forgivenessI'm a month or so overdue on an article about the ethics of interpretation (don't push me on the ethics of an author dawdling on articles--I've been an editor, too, and I know that frustration), and I also promised to blogback to the Happy Tutor about a week ago. And since my hermeneutics editor isn't cracking his whip as fiercely as the Tutor, I'll summon the temerity to answer back to the (merrily) stern pedagogue of bloggery.Tutor, I have no need to teach you (of all people) that your clients don't want forgiveness. If we get right down to it, hardly any of us wants forgiveness; forgiveness entails so harrowing an encounter with truth that practically everyone would prefer either an amnesty or a comforting guilty conscience, both of which permit us to cling fondly to the familiar knowledge of our guilt. My readers? None has broached the subject; I suppose most of them, numerically speaking, sense no urgent need to deal with their weaknesses. Some will have a determined spiritual custom to address their sins; some will not undertake any such practice, since they're satisfied that on the whole, they're okay. And some may skulk around these pages, and yours, with the lingering sense that something's amiss, but without the resolution to expiate or let go their bondage. I have only a vague apprehension of your work, but I gather that your agency permits persistent hacks, flacks, frauds, shabby dolls, empty suits, apologetic statesmen of a compromising kind, and other society offenders to eat the cake of self-indulgence and to have it, too, at the other end (so to speak). The degradation of callously exploiting of oneself and others recedes in the sharp pain of corporal punishment, yielding to the sense that one has paid for the privilege of selling out, by pain and humiliation to exalt the soul from earth, and make of hell a heaven. This is a relief I cannot offer, and one that (I sense that) it galls you to administer. What little I can offer involves looking into Celia's closet, into Dorian Gray's portrait, into the reflective property of the waters of sacramental ablution--into an image immune to digital enhancement, airbrushing, face-lifting, or any other form of human palliation. As such a prospect holds little appeal, I must offer my labor freely (market conditions, you know). To any whose nerve is strong enough, or whose revulsion at hollow lives powerful enough, or whose love of truth strong enough (do you believe that such as these exist?), I'm an easy mark. Indeed, I'm willing enough to sit with those who only just fake strong nerve or revulsion or love--because the homage that vice pays to virtue ultimately cedes fealty to a more enduring rectification. Were I finally to take Judas' side, I would at least enjoy the certitude that I was a betrayer; alas, I presently lack even that consolation. No matter; one more degree narrower, and the Way would not be a way at all, ein weg ohne weg, which is exactly the Way. Does this path lead to Nurenberg, grinning Tutor? (I beg your pardon; I have been taught to call no one my teacher on earth.) Do David W. and I lead lives untroubled by the unsearchable gravity that measures each footstep? Does my style give me away (betray me) as a rude Galilean, not an urbane sophisticate whose prosody scorns humility? Your harsh judgment saddens me--but I can't afford your mode of reconciliation. I will avail myself of a free, but hardly a cheap, alternative. ( 8:21 PM ) Leisure TimeWell, I'm just practically drunk with leisure this afternoon--meaning that the next moment at which I absolutely have to have something done isn't till Sunday morning, so I can take a second or two to blog. It feels good. Permalink -Main Page-Thursday, April 25, 2002 ( 10:41 PM ) Exciting personaliaTonight Margaret preached at Seabury chapel, overcoming her reluctance to step into a pulpit in the presence of someone who so fecklessly spouts off about homiletical do's and dont's--and to top it all off, she based her sermon on an extended anecdote about her home town (Rockport, Mass.). I've been backpedalling on the "sermon illustrations" topic for a while, and now that Victor and Steve (that was wonderful, Steve) and Margaret have stirred the pot I ought probably retrench again. Thanks for keeping me thinking.And in the other big family news, Eastman School of Music offered Nate two sizeable four-year scholarships, so it looks as though we'll need to learn the area code for Rochester, New York. Nate's enthused for a number of reasons, not least that they have a Triple-A Orioles farm team so I'll be sure to come visit him. I'm barely awake, but I'm finishing up the sermon for tomorrow. It will employ no narrative whatsoever, as part of an exercise in style--but next time (Sunday, actually, now that I think of it) I'll deliberately try to place narrative style at the center. Permalink -Main Page- Wednesday, April 24, 2002 ( 11:17 PM ) My self-aggrandizement is longer than yours. . . .Dorothea celebrates the news that her article on conversion (among etext formats, not from one faith to another) is itself about to be converted into another language. I myself had a similar moment this week, as a correspondent from Sweden inquired--in German--about whether I might send him a copy of my first book, since he was having a hard time purchasing it overseas.Now I have to brush up my German writing skills to say, "You bet!" in appropriately formal style, with separable prefix verbs and lots of der- and da- words. This isn't as peculiar a circumstance as it may sound. The book in question is required reading in the English-language-track curriculum at the University of Helsinki's Theology Department. There's something comforting about the (illusory) notion that my Finnish colleagues may regard me more highly than domestic colleagues. Maybe they don't pay any attention to me at the University of Chicago, but in Helsinki I'm the Steve Busciemi of postmodern biblical studies. Permalink -Main Page- Tuesday, April 23, 2002 ( 10:54 PM ) In re Matrullo on AdamWell, I'm supposed to be working on a sermon, so this is the ideal time for me to appreciate Tom Matrullo's wonderful review of my book on postmodernism and biblical interpretation.No writer can ask a greater, more risky, blessing than a discerning reader, and Tom graces me with both edges of his wit. I want to acknowledge his praise, candidly admitting that it makes me proud, and then quickly change the subject to the easier-to-discuss areas where I want warmly to affirm something he noticed, or where our paths diverge, or at least where the path is wide enough that I can't quite reach out to rest my hand appreciatively on his shoulder. So among other things, Tom devotes some attention to my plain-dealer authorial tone. That sounds odd to him, and risky; the pretense of "just telling things as they are" has concealed all manner of pernicious agendas, and in the context of inviting readers to partake of postmodern conceits--"Here, Reader, the first one's free"--one may not want to hear the theme played in the key of unvarnished telling. He's right, very right, and to the extent that this characteristic marks a weakness, I stand guilty as charged. I hasten to add that Tom does not indict me; he notes and ponders this feature, turning it round and about to see how it works. If I may be so bold, I venture to suggest that it works just as far as my readers trust me, as I give them reason to trust me (this is the Cluetrainical element I alluded to a couple of days ago). Now, partly, this derives from my reluctance to get into rhetorical mating displays; if you're attracted to the flash, then head for the other birds. I'm not up to the intense wordplay that authenticates some writers' discourses. Partly too it derives from my not wanting people to believe me because they think I'm clever; I want them to share with me the satisfaction of a good think, and though that often includes witplay, spiralling and resounding with resonances unattainable by a solo voice, my favorite thinks start with plain talk. (I might say, "ordinary language" with a nod to my Wittgensteinian bride and to Joseph Duermer, who's reading the book now, too, and just tipped me off to his ruminations). Moreover, a book addressed to unpretentious readers, who self-identify as "beginners" in some senses of the word, may work a little better if it speaks from the reader's side, rather than from a klieg-lit staging area amidst the props of my latest bit of performance prose. So that's my rationale. But Tom's right: the voice is quite plain, it risks transmuting itself into the mask of normalcy, and the voice doesn't itself illustrate postmodern speaking--except, perhaps, to the extent that one can't quite count on it to be everything it seems. Which may be yet another part of the rationale. Or not. Tom picks this up in three wonderful paragraphs, in which he ascribes to me an ambition to the sermo humilis, and here he has seen into my soul. However irksome that understated style may be to some readers, I revel in the exorbitant beauties one can conceal in muted textual colors. Then, Tom wonders whether "reasons of state" (oh, Tom, won't you say it in French?) might impel me to understate the vertiginous implications of my claims. Nicely wondered! I suppose that I wanted to modulate the amplitude of my claims for a couple of conscious reasons. For one, I wanted to allow a reader to assay for him- or herself how far these theses reached. I weary of people telling me how important I should deem their thoughts, so I try not to oversell my own notions. Second, many possible readers will have already been warned how dreadfully postmodern thought will disrupt their minds; I don't need to tell those readers anything of the like. So political reasons do lie behind this aspect of my calm tone (as they would if I adopted a more vivid style); I want to keep the kids on the bus as long as I can. "Why doesn't he take the subversive insights he describes further?" Well, there are always the sequels. . . . Tomorrow I may have more time to blog. I'll try then to get to Tom's quibbles. Thanks again, lecteur franc, mon semblable, mon frère. ( 10:50 PM ) What AKMA wants for Acad-e-booksIn the course of a typically vigorous and giddying exploration of eBooks and electronic publishing in general, Dorothea Salo asks, "Hey, AKMA, what do you want in BiblicalCriticismBook?"Well, better writing, for one thing--but I'm not sure there's a technological solution for biblical scholars' prodigiously turgid prose.
Well, that's a start. I'll go on at greater length, but I owe a heap of other friends more time. Two further points: First, Margaret reminds me that she doesn't write notes in margins at all, and that she has stopped smearing highlights in favor of underlining, like me. I apologize for suggesting, in print (as it were) that she was a smearer or a scribbler, though there's nothing wrong with either (I sometimes scribble, though I prefer not to smear). Second, she acutely notes that the headline should be "AK-Adam-eBooks." I wasn't that sharp this morning. Permalink -Main Page- Monday, April 22, 2002 ( 12:29 PM ) More purloined preachingSo I was reading Mike Golby's blog, watching lest he cast any undue aspersions on the clans so melodious that their national musical instruments need not even try to play in tune, when I clicked on his link leading to Randall Balmer's conversation with Jimmy Swaggart. Brother Jimmy, it seems, extends the range of my borrowed-sermons justification beyond more catholic, liturgically-formal settings to his own emphatically Protestant ministries:Swaggart was relaxed and expansive. Although he dropped out of high school, he is an exceedingly bright, literate, and articulate man. In the course of our conversation he talked about the preachers who had influenced him, A.N. Trotter and John R. Rice, a fundamentalist with whom Swaggart had formed an improbable friendship. "I've preached a lot of his sermons over the years," Swaggart said, citing one of his favorites in particular, whose theme was "all the devil's apples got worms." He said that he had developed "my own style," but he very much admired the oratorical abilities of Martin Luther King, Jr., E.V. Hill, and "some white guy with a bald head." When I ventured the name Tony Campolo, Swaggart recognized it immediately. "Yeah, that's him! That guy can preach," he said, slapping the table with evident appreciation. (second page)So I don't know if either the Rev. Edward Mullins or his bishop (and Seabury alumnus) the Rt. Rev. Wendell Gibbs, cruises the web, but if they do, I can confidently assure them that everyone from St. Augstine to Jimmy Swaggart says "Using other people's sermons should be okay." Permalink -Main Page- ( 8:17 AM ) On the road againIt looks as though today will offer little chance to blog, since I have a morning faculty meeting, 11:00 mass, 1:30 prospective student interview, and leave at 2:30 to drive to Bloomington where I'll talk with the Adult Ed class about Paul and the Book of Acts.More's the pity, because I can't wait to compose an appreciative response to Tom Matrullo's review of What Is Postmodern Biblical Criticism? Short answer: many thanks for such an acute reading. By the way, it occurred to me while reading Tom's blog that one reason I respond so positively to David Weinberger and the Cluetrain Enterprise involves my own efforts to write with a particular voice. Permalink -Main Page- Sunday, April 21, 2002 ( 9:57 PM ) Booked SolidAmong Nate's recital, my morning trip to St. Luke's to hear Nate play the prelude for the 9:00 service, then off to St. Chrysostom's to lead Adult Ed (on the Book of Acts, a series entitled "International Incidents, Exploding Kings, and Chthonic Gods"), and to stay for their 11:00 service, then back to Evanston to pick up Margaret and Jeanne after the second service at St. Luke's, then home for a quick bite, then to the grocery store to ingredients for our pot-luck dinner at the Dean's house, then to St. Luke's for Evensong, then to the Dean's for pot-luck, then home in a heap, noticing that I now owe not only a peace blog, but also a forgiveness blog to the unhappy Happy Tutor. Permalink -Main Page-All times are local. Local times may vary. Minutes do not expire. A. K. M. Adam That which we have not yet bothered to imagine is not therefore impossible. |
He seems like a nice guy. Has he written any books? Would he come speak to us?
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