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February 28, 2005

Perspective

I’m feeling a little quiet , just now, as news came through last night that friends from church have apparently been murdered.

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Address On The Right Use Of Speculative Literature

Yesterday BoingBoing flagged an argument by sf novelist Will Shetterly that reading science fiction helped make him a better Unitarian — and in the cited article, Shetterly makes an appealing case. On the other hand, students from Seabury’s Early Church History class may remember that nearly 1700 years ago, St. Basil [the Great*] of Caesarea made a comparable argument relative to the pagan literature of classical antiquity. The earliest Christians distanced themselves from pagan literature, as the Apostolic Tradition 16 illustrates when it limits the possibility of schoolteachers to become Christians (presumably because they inculcate the myths of Hellenistic civil religion). Basil, on the other hand, argued that when young people (“young men,” to Basil, despite Macrina’s good example) study the classics, they apprehend the dim outline of such Scriptural truths as they are not yet ready to encounter directly. The youths who study literature stand to learn nobility and virtue from authors whom everyone admires for their insight. At least, they stand so to learn as long as they don’t linger over the salacious passages.

Pretty good for an old guy, especially considering that Basil hadn’t read Dune even once!

* I was about to mourn the era in which theologians got jazzy nicknames like Basil the Great or Gregory the Wonderworker or Peter Comestor (“the Eater”) — but given the temper of the moment, when the cleverest nicknames flying around seem to involve calling the U.S. Presiding Bishop “Grizzy” or tagging the Archbishop of Canterbury as a “sick chicken,” I suppose we’re better off without, for now. . . .

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Memo

Have I mentioned lately that I hate exercising?

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February 27, 2005

Short Conundrum

I’m thinking over the Primates’ Statement, and although I’d have wished it different, I’m not surprised by its general tenor.

One source of puzzlement, though: why do the Primates ask that the US and Canada withdraw from the Anglican Consultative Council? Does this imply a hierarchy of the Instruments of Unity, such that the Primates constitute a “higher” instrument than the Consultative Council? Wouldn’t it make more sense for the Primates to ask the primates of the US and Canada to withdraw, and to let the Consultative Council make its own requests relative to particular delegations?

Isn’t this request especially odd since it coincides with a request that the U.S. and Canada return to the Council in special status to explain their actions?

I’m not lobbying against asking for “withdrawal” per se; that seems a consistent gesture on the part of the relevant authorities. I am curious about what the present request implies about the Windsor process, its present standing as a guideline for institutional action, and its standing as a goal.

If you want to have a conversation (as the Primates expressly said they do), it seems odd to kick some people out for not cooperating, then invite them back provisionally to hold up their end of the conversation. It would make more sense to me for them to simply say, “You didn’t convince us; you’re out, for now,” or to say, “We want you to give us your best shot at making a case that we’re sure you can’t make. Come back to the Consultative Council; we’ll give you a hearing, then you can decide what to do when we ask you to withdraw.” To that extent, the outcome of the primates’ meeting misses the opportunity to stake out a clear message.

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Time For An Update?

Seems as though the Bad Guys have devised a way to induce Safari to generate pop-behind windows, even when the “block pop-ups” preference is checked.

I’m just saying. . . .

Posted by AKMA at 03:38 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

Liturgy, Meaning, and Teaching

Tripp pursues one of the main topics of his thesis in this morning’s post. He worries about the dialectical relationship between “teaching” and “worship” in liturgy: “How do we understand the purpose of liturgy as a teaching tool? It seems that whenever we become too didactic, we cannot worship, but the moment we stop explaining then worship becomes meaningless.”

[Disclaimer: With regard to what follows, readers should bear in mind that I am not a card-carrying “evangelical” (as Tripp seems to have become, at least for a day) nor a scholar of liturgics. I am what the jargonmeisters call a reflective practitioner of leading worship, and (most to the point) an avid student of semiotics, of the study of meaning and what we do about it.]

Tripp seems to have gotten stuck at the wrong point in the argument, though. It’s not that liturgical worship is ever meaningless, any more than a Unix manual, or a volume of the Summa Theologia, or an essay by a postmodern theorist. “Meaninglessness” applies neither to the published words of people whose expertise doesn’t overlap with our own nor to the enacted words and gestures of a worshipper whose relation to those actions doesn’t overlap with our own — in these cases, the kind of meaning we (presumably) seek eludes us, but the words and gestures nonetheless continue to mean. If nothing else, they may mean something such as “the author of this work (of worship or prose) expects me to regard baffling obfuscation as mystical profundity.” Japanese isn’t meaningless because I don’t understand it; the problem lies not with Japanese or its speakers, but with my ignorance.

With regard to liturgy and Tripp’s dilemma, then, it looks as though Tripp is conflating the kind of teaching by which one learns a language (or a discourse or a sort of cultural behavior or a craft) with the kind of learning by which one moves from the dim, frustrating perception of what each word means toward the appreciation of sentences, thoughts, meditations, and so on. It takes a long time to learn Greek, and once one has attained elementary acquaintance with the language, one still has a hard time puzzling out what Aristotle thinks about ethics; but it seems worthwhile to distinguish the two processes.

The notion that liturgy should be self-explanatory, should comprise both the expression of thankful praise and the metacommentary that articulates that expression in plain, open terms, serves particular theological-ideological purposes. That notion eases the transition between not having the vaguest idea why Christians do the sorts of thing that they do (or having a misguided idea) and recognizing the rationale for liturgical behavior.

At the same time, some ideas and some gestures depend for their intelligibility on prior formation. Schoolteachers try to inculcate the background knowledge and sensibilities by which students may relish Shakespeare’s plays or von Bismarck’s statecraft — but without some sort of preparatory instruction, few learners will find King Lear especially “meaningful.” I once found myself in an argument over the extent to which “meaning” transcends cultural specificity, in which debate my interlocutor cited the example of Antigone as evidence that something about our common human essence binds us to the great works of antiquity. That example seemed contrariwise to demonstrate my point: unless we’re instructed beforehand about Antigone’s family history, about ancient piety and burial practices, about the politics of Sophocles’s own day, Antigone may well seem absurdly meaningless, not because of a defect in our alleged common humanity, but because the drama relies on a context of shared information and assumptions on which we just can’t draw. If a vendor won’t exchange her goods for my foreign currency, the problem isn’t that the currency is intrinsically worthless, but that we haven’t worked out a context within which it might have value.

Back to liturgy: we shouldn’t expect every service to teach the faith at an introductory level, or to evoke the deepest mystical truths, any more than every book be written by Dr. Seuss or Jürgen Habermas. I think it’s probably fair to wish that every service point toward the greater mysteries, and that no service constitute itself so as to repel visitors — but a great part of the life of faith (as it comes to expression in the liturgy) involves putting into practice things one has learned outside the liturgy. Just as one is taught table manners over time, usually at home, before one attends a formal dinner, so the teaching ministry of family and congregation prepare people, over time, for the fullest participation in a solemn mass.

In any case, the meaning subsists not just in a participant’s experience, not just in the leader’s intent, but in a complex of intentions, conventions, receptions, and innovations that (to recur to one of my favorite topics) we don’t control. The challenge for each worship leader, or for each participant in liturgical planning, involves not a simple dialectic of teaching and worship, but a negotiation among the calls to nuance and to explicitness, to that which is shared with generations of worshippers reaching into antiquity and to that which stimulates the most vivid sense of contemporaneity, to theological truth expressed in actions and words whose intelligibility derives from their roles in a great shared discourse of liturgical art, and to evangelical transparency expressed in a shared vernacular discourse of colloquial immediacy — among other urgent imperatives.

So I’d suggest (at a minimum) specific effort among regular members of the congregation to assimilate and understand the congregation’s liturgy so as to be able to bring visitors into the stylized theological conversation. (Catechizing the regulars provides all manner of benefits, this just one among them.) At the same time, it wouldn’t hurt if the congregation provided (along with its regular bulletin, assuming that they use a bulletin) a very simple guide to the congregation’s worship. It needn’t pares every technicality or define every term, but should provide enough guidance that a visitor not feel quite lost. The combination of a friendly, helpful congregant and a basic, direct guide-leaflet would do a lot of the work of elementary liturgical instruction.

Simultaneously, the congregation could devote serious time and consideration to the reasons for its liturgical practice, and the significance of the liturgical decisions it makes. Tripp knows how vexed I get when people think that “ ’Cos I like it that way” trumps all other reasons in shared liturgical deliberation. Common worship involves a tremendous amount more than your or my individual likes and dislikes; if we want to communicate among the historic, dispersed, contemporary, and future saints, we need to attend to ways that our behavior signifies beyond our preferences. To that end, we should be cautious about adopting purely local idiosyncratic formulations — however much we may like them, they may exclude the saints from taking their part in a worship God longs for all to share in.

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February 26, 2005

Doubleheader

Fresh from yesterday afternoon’s victory, Pippa and I crowned my efforts today. Early in the afternoon, she found the book on cartooning lying on the table irresistible. She perused it over her lunch, and afterward sat down and pencilled a sketch for me (I’ll post it on flickr when I have a chance).

Then I mentioned that I’d been meaning to go over to the Block Museum at Northwestern. Pippa indicated a reluctant willingness to go with me (she feels that art museums are too boring), but when I was ready to go, she preferred to stay in the basement working on a massive laundry project. That was okay; I tackled further steps in the massive financial aid project. About forty-five minutes later, Pippa showed up at my back, holding a pair of socks for me to put on, and together we spent an hour or so examining furnishings and designs by William Morris and his colleagues. I have a weakness for the Arts and Crafts style (all the more so after a visit to Glasgow and its Charles Rennie Mackintosh House), so the wallpaper patterns, books, tapestries, and stained-glass windows all captivated me. Pippa was less vividly enthralled than I, but as always she engaged the works on display quite studiously.

On the way home, we stopped at the Norris Center for a snack sushi and Chex Mix. The walk home was clear and cold, brilliant and exquisitely illumined. Glorious.

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Forms and Play

I’ve just finished the family taxes (Nate comes next, hang on, fella), and a spate of forms that I fill out annually when Seabury sees what kind of medical insurance it can afford, and I’m working on financial aid applications. Permit me to say, relative to all these, that I have yet to encounter a form that doesn’t invoke my deepest anxieties about making a mistake, misunderstanding or forgetting something, and having my house surrounded by flare-orange-suited agents from a federal agency, armed with automatic weapons. I’m not math-phobic; I appreciate some sorts of legal puzzling; but this particular high-stakes game gives me a terrible allergic reaction, and the ways that tax software (no doubt itself constrained by dread legal forces) and insurance companies elicit information from me aggravate every confusion and fear my unconscious mind could rev up.

Again, next year I hope I can send our taxes to a professional. This year I needed to do them in a hurry so that I can submit financial aid information (late) to go with Si’s college applications (Happy Birthday, 18-year-old son!). There’s a lot of good work to be one simplifying and clarifying information-gathering for these agencies.

At the other end of the spectrum, Burning Monkey Mahjong 2005 has just been released, and this ludic user interface has me very positively impressed. If only I had more opportunity to play this, and less obligation to fill out the former.

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February 25, 2005

One Victory

Pippa does not read my blog, so far as I know (this would be a good time to tip me off if you are reading, Pip!), so I’ll crow about Margaret’s and my subtle method for inducing our children to read books that we know they’ll be interested by.

We hit them over the head with it.

No, no quite that obvious, but still — the time-honored method in our family entails leaving the “interesting” book in some incredibly obvious place (Margaret used the middle of the floor for a while), until the target child can no longer ignore it. This doesn’t always work, but it’s more consistently successful, and a lot less costly, than nagging.

On today’s library trip, I spotted a book on drawing comics that I knew would interest Pippa, if only I could induce her to look into it. As Pippa hit the comics section upstairs and the children’s section downstairs, I settled into the adult recent acquisitions section with a book by Paul Ricoeur that I’ll ignore until it’s due, Neil Gaiman’s Marvel 1602 (which I enjoyed immensely, though wityh a slight let-down at the end), and the how-to-draw-comics book on the library table in front of me. When Pippa finished her browsing, she came to get me. I continued reading 1602 until I reached the end of a chapter. She glanced at the cover of Ricoeur, looked at her own stack of books — then picked up the comics book. When I decided it was time to go, she had been reading intently for a good ten minutes. I took that book out along with the two that interested me, and it’s sitting prominently on the dining room table. . . .

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Forgot To Remember

Somewhere I thought I had learned that the obsolete word “eke” was used to fit into metrical lines that needed an extra syllable — hence the expression “to eke out” meant “to draw to necessary length by adding the syllable ‘eke.’ ” I thought I had learned this, but I can’t find support for that usage anywhere online. So, to everyone to whom I’ve asserted this to be the case, I issue a blanket reservation: maybe so, maybe not.

Certainly the use of “eke” tends to fit that characterization, even when editions of Chaucer gloss “eke” as “also.” The value of this syllable frequently entails only its contribution to the scansion; only rarely does an affirmation “additionally” flavor eke’s semantic role in a line. Still, absent an authoritative permission to continue my previous line of thinking, I’ll retract and wait further instruction.

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February 24, 2005

Usage Fussbudget

A subhead in the Baltimore Sun suggests verblessly that “Gonzalez latest to refute steroid claims of Canseco.”

May we agree that Gonzalez “contradicted” or “disputed” or even “gainsaid,” Canseco’s allegations, but unless Gonzalez presented ironclad evidence, he cannot yet be said to have refuted Canseco? For now, it’s one outfielder’s word against another.

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Freedom At Reduced Cost

David Isenberg reminds me that “there’s one week left to register [for the Freedom to Connect conference] at the Early Bird price of $250. The higher price, effective 12:01 AM on March 1, will be $350.” Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

There’ll be a tremendous line-up of ’net policy thinkers, with a passel of other geeks and wonks in attendance. I missed the WTF!?! — A Gathering of SMART People conference last year; I’m tickled to be going to F2C this year (this year, David lowered the standard from “smart” to “available,” in the theologians category, anyway). Disclaimer: I’m giving a keynote at F2C, so take that in consideration when I say it’ll be a conference full of chewy, nutritious net-policy goodness, apart from one keynote’s worth of theological reflection on freedom and connectivity. I still think the other speakers will be good, the company will be heady, the conference productive, and the Early Bird Special a better deal than last-minute registration.

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Feature, Someday

Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time: collect a bulletin from a garden-variety congregation and go over somme elementary steps by which one could make the bulletin a more effective device for communicating with its users — sort of a makeover program for church bulletins, such as Mean Dean provides for websites at Heal Your Church. “Teaching, rebuking, correcting, and training in righteous bulletin design. . . .”

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Is That the Clue Phone?

I’m not sure how I got to this article [also described here; sorry for the busted link, Mitch and Joe!], but it’s double-edged message delights and daunts me.

The first cut, of course, enables me to chortle that other people show so little awareness of their folly. Not only are they foolish, but their limitations prevent them from recognizing the full extent of their occlusion! Lord, what fools these mortals be!

The second cut so neatly severs my vanity from me that one might easily miss the line of the cut. If semi-competent people can’t see their own limitations, then my own confidence that I’m not one of them. . . may be misplaced.

Luckily, I am protected from error because I so regularly encounter people who know so much that they couldn’t possibly be wrong.

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February 23, 2005

Churches and Managers

Once upon a time, I was a church-management know-nothing. I deliberately avoided any of the tawdry books about increasing attendance, about church marketing, about management and leadership with a thin theological icing. I knew I was spiritually superior to people who relied on such works, and I didn’t bother to learn anything about the claims I rejected.

That was a long time ago. I’m still cautious, skeptical, about the relation of “management” to the life of that peculiar institution, the church, but I’m more guardedly skeptical, and I hope I’m humbler. For instance, although I agree with some of the points Jay Bauman makes in an article for TheOoze, I would want to couch his criticisms differently, and to register an appreciation for management/leadership theory. Yes, you heard me right.

I’ve learned enough from my neighbors online — some of whom include those grievous sinners, the marketers — and from experience in churches and academic institutions, and from my retired colleague John Dreibelbis, that I see ways I’ve benefited from business theory. I’d steer away from thinking of that as “management” (for reasons I’ll stipulate in a minute) and “marketing,” but I participate more productively in various contexts through a refined understanding of organizations, communication, and desire. I expect that a large part of Bauman’s work as an Executive Pastor draws heavily on responses and insights informed by his business experience.

At the same time, Bauman’s arguments rightly point toward subtler versions of his critique. No one has laid this out with more clarity and theological nuance than my friend Phil Kenneson in Selling Out the Church. Alasdair MacIntyre tackles the ideology of management in After Virtue and Against the Self-Images of the Age. Even Chris Locke has gone on record (in last night’s Chief Blogging Officer report, if not earlier) as an anti-marketer. I’m not going to rehearse here the points they all make at much greater length, with admirable subtlety, but will simply assent that a great proportion of what gets passed toward churches as management theory or appropriate marketing ought to be passed even further — to the dumpster.

That last increment, though? The what’s-left-over after we throw out the dross? I hope that my colleagues don’t fall for the same spiritual pomposity to which I fell victim. We can’t afford to decide in advance that we have nothing more to learn, in any area. Sometimes, though, we learn most when we’re learning something a little different from what the teacher thinks we should be learning. I’m still cautious and skeptical.

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February 22, 2005

Webs of Solidarity

(a) I hope that enough people support Jason Kottke that he can make it as a full-time blogger. I threw my change in the guitar case.

(b) Speaking of supporting people, Blogarians band together today to call attention to the situation of the Iranian bloggers Mojtaba and Arash.

(b) If a place like Seabury wanted to start with its MT-based web page and commission someone to redesign it using CSS and templates — something like a page from the CSS Zen Garden — roughly what ought they expect to pay? The question will probably turn out to be purely hypothetical, but the answer should be worth learning.

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Hunh!

That was odd. For the past two days, posting has been closed down here due to “Got an error: Bad ObjectDriver config: Connection error: Too many connections.” I don’t know what that means, but it kept me from posting yesterday.

Posted by AKMA at 02:15 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

Illicit Pleasures

I realized recently that if I don’t start reading again, I may lose the will even to try.

It’s hard to clear my mind enough to read a serious printed work, and the tenor of Seabury life militates against thinking of reading as something more than a self-indulgence. That’s a fatal attitude, though, and I simply have to read a number of works to prepare for my inaugural lecture in the spring. Today Yesterday I indulged myself with a dip into the essays of David Jones, an English artist-writer who had a special interest in meaning, the topic of my lecture.

Reading Jones has helped me see the discipline of biblical hermeneutics as having hobbled itself by taking the special case of “translation” as the fundamental model for the much broader phenomenon of signification and interpretation. The notion of textual univocity loses its sense of coherence if the text in question is, for instance, an image (what’s the single correct meaning of the “Mona Lisa” in a non-da Vinci Code universe?). Meaning doesn’t cooperate with human (academic) efforts to constrain it to equivalences. (One idea I had for the lecture was to present my talk with a soundtrack; a strictly textual version would thereby signify very differently, in a way that most observers would acknowledge.)

Jones makes the point that sacraments (in a lower-case sense) surround us, and we participate in them daily, as our actions bespeak a meaning greater than their explicit, objective definition. Tonight Laura reminded me of an example from her caring for her grandmother, who died Sunday night. If a sacrament is “the outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace,” then much more sacramental activity is going on all the time than only the church’s seven sacraments (that’s right, Protestant readers, I said “seven”). But when we locate the matter of signification in the domain of sacramentality, we situate our participation in the economy of singification (and in the ecology of signification) in a context that far surpasses our capacity to pin down or to limit to the narrow model of formulating ideal textual equivalences (What’s the meaning of anointing Grandmother’s feet with lotion? Don’t equivocate, now!). Moreover, a sacramental context appropriately invokes the liturgical, doxological dimensions of our acts of interpretation (biblical and otherwise). When we venture into the realm of signification, we can’t invoke any consoling regulative principles to protect ourselves from criticism, to ensure that we did the unassailably right thing; signification doesn’t work that way.

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February 20, 2005

Going, Going. . . .

In case anyone in the Evanston area cares, I’ve reached the end of my patience with the drywall that’s occupying one corner of our basement. We have about eight sheets resting on sawhorses, and if anybody wants ’em you may have them. But first come, first served, and if I don’t hear about them in the next few days, I’ll just dump them.

I’m reclaiming that space for some bookshelves. The kids and I will conquer the basement!

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Quarter-Baked Ideas and Recollections

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If Our Charity Were Not Already Exhausted

As the Primates of the Anglican Communion meet, I wonder whether it’s possible to acknowledge that we [all] have missed a long line of opportunities to respond with grace to the controversial course that the Episcopal Church has charted. If our charity were not already exhausted, we might put our faith in one another on the line by praying for the Holy Spirit to bring us to unity, and by ordering our institutional lives in ways that would make that possible.

First, we would have to agree that it looks as though our present differences will not immediately be reconciled by mediation or meditation or legislation. Some side or another can force its will on the other — in the name of God, of course — but having come so far in this particular direction, I have a hard time imagining that effecting anything but the violent excision of some part of the Body.

Second, then, we would have to acknowledge that some vital parts of the Body cannot honestly confess their sin if [what they take to be] an entire category of sin be overlooked, excepted, accepted; and by the same token, other vital parts of the Body cannot honestly confess their sin if [what they take to be] not-sin is included as sinful. The imposition of force at this point can only impair the conscience of some of the saints, and that serves no holy purpose.

Third, although God can raise up a Body whole and new from mere bones or dust and ashes, yet we ought not presume to dissolve the Body when that Body is surely stronger if all its sinews, organs, members are working together to their fullest capacities (and especially when it’s always possible that we have erred in our prayerful discernment of what path forward best reflects God’s will for the church). We need, for the sake of all, to do everything we can to sustain the fullest degree of communion possible.

Fourth, we should be looking for ways that hands and feet, eyes and nose can remain together in such ways as permit each the conscientious exposition and embodiment of their divergent understandings of the Body’s well-being. The hands, of their charity, should remain with the feet, at least to bear witness to the holiness and purity they espouse; and feet should, of their charity, remain with the hands, to bear witness to the expansive love and the commitment to covenanted fidelity that they espouse.

Fifth, with mutual charity, all Episcopal dioceses and agencies should develop their political and financial systems with a view toward flexibility (not coercion), toward oversight that strengthens (not erodes). Any office or budget line in the Episcopal Church should be ordered so that it could be administered by a hand or a foot, an ear or an eye, without a revolutionary reversal (so that the Spirit’s conversion can draw us from our entrenched positions without unnecessary resistance rooted in our institutional structures). Congregations of hands might have the oversight of a Hand Bishop, and congregations of feet might be guided by a Foot Bishop, freely and respectfully, without hands or feet pursuing coercive financial or legislative manipulation. We would acknowledge that such oversight reflects a condition of the very thinnest conceivable unity, but that we hope so ardently for the Body’s solidarity that we cling to that thinnest unity as preferable to the violent excision of even one faithful soul. We would have to endure an interval — forty years is a biblical precedent — of recognizing that sisters and brothers in duly ordered ministries, sharers of our tradition, had gone perniciously astray, and yet out of long-suffering and patient love, we all were endeavoring everything we can to prepare for a yet greater degree of harmony.

We might offer one another such accommodations, in the earnest mutual hope that the Spirit would bring clarification to what now is murky, nearly opaque — if our charity were not already exhausted. I pray that we, with no remaining charity to offer one another, not all be found at fault.

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February 19, 2005

Day of Rest

I actually got off to a leisurely start today — but that disappeared quickly. During Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me, Pippa needed her pancake breakfast. After breakfast, we needed to go to the library (Pip was wrongfully accused of keeping their copy of Harriet the Spy overdue); we vindicated her good name, and proceeded thence to pick up some storage boxes for Pippa and some rutabagas for Si, whose birthday comes up Thursday.

(“Rutabaga” is the family circumlocution for surprises and presents. Back when Pippa was too young to understand the idea of “secret,” she would repeat the last few words she had heard without knowing what they meant. When we were shopping for presents, the boys and I would always make sure that we said “rutabaga” a lot after we finished talking about the specific gift we bought, so that Pippa wouldn’t blurt out “necklace” or “Legos” at an inappropriate moment. Thereafter, we’ve used “rutabaga” to signify a surprise.)

Got back from the rutabaga farm, and I had a half hour to shower up, wrangle Beatrice down to get her hair cut (photos tomorrow), and keep headed south to pick up Phil Kenneson and take him to O’Hare. We had a great conversation, caught up on various developments, and I got back to the pet groomers just before they closed up shop. (Actually, they called Margaret to tell her that her dog had been abandoned, but that wasn’t true; I had told the groomers that I wouldn’t be back till 6:30 or so, and they called Margaret at 6:35).

Got back here, worked on uploading images from Juliet’s wedding (many of the nicest ones are protected, since neither Juliet’s nor John’s relatives live with the expectation that any expression or gesture could be immortalized for a Web-reading audience), tagged, titled, rotated, and protected/unprotected them.

IM’ed with various people about Seabury, Pippa, life, the universe, and everything. Now I’m ready to crash. I hope tomorrow I get a little less rest — I need a break.

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Chuffed

I can’t express how gratifying it is to find that other people think highly of Pippa’s work, as well as I. e has dropped by the comments here before, but her laudatory notice of Pippa (just after Halley spotlighted her, too) makes me beam with paternal pride.

The way to a parent’s heart is through their kids.

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February 18, 2005

Reading Week

Next week Seabury celebrates a Reading Week, in which our usual piety and erudition continue, but at a more relaxed pace. No classes, only two services a day, and fewer meetings (an all-day faculty meeting, but hey — you can’t expect to go much more than two months without an all-day faculty meeting). This break comes at a vital time; with half a chance, I can keep up with this term’s obligations, plan ahead for next term, and get a little reading done toward my writing and lecturing obligations.

Even if none of that happens — apart from the all-day faculty meeting, which will happen no matter what — it’ll be a rest. A much-needed rest.

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February 17, 2005

And I Thank You

Hey, Halley, thanks for the hat tip! I’m touched that you had such kind things to say about me — but more important, you were calling attention to my fabulous young daughter!

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I Thank You

When Florent and the interview team were visiting with me, one of the topics we covered involved what it’s like for a priest to participate in online life. Florent’s question set me to reflecting about “e-Parish” ventures of one sort or another. The projects I’ve read about seem all to have involved replicating, in various ways, the notion of a “parish.”

But that premise relies on the kinds of geographical, physical relationships that online interaction renders supplementary (rather than essential). If something like congregating is going to happen online, it’s not going to happen because someone stakes out a virtual chapel, a virtual coffee hour, a virtual parish membership roll. That picks up the impaired aspects of the physical-world congregation, and makes them the definitive norm for digital congregation. That picks up the stick at the wrong end.

Contrariwise, I’ve found that something much closer to a “congregation” or (in a limited sense) “parish” arises freely in situations where people want to communicate with somebody on a basis that regards their theological identity. Think of the Real Live Preacher’s weblog; that (it seems to me) reflects something much closer to the full sense of “online congregation” than a posited “St. Somebody’s Cyber-Parish.”

And, to bring this around, I’ve found a very parish-like community of people who have offered their time and attention and thoughtfulness to the matters about which I’ written here. Only a small proportion of the people who come to this site profess an active Christian faith; that’s not a problem to my claim, though, because part of my point is that the who’s-in-and-who’s-out game doesn’t have the same compulsory urgency. Over the years, I’ve emailed and chatted and blogged with people about life and death, marriage and divorce, sex and loneliness, God and Jesus and Torah and gods and no-god. I’ve talked to you on the phone, theologized and interceded and just meandered. Sometimes we get together, which is a special treat. I’ve prayed for people who asked me to, and for some who didn’t ask (sorry if I give offense here), and in all these things I’ve felt a keen awareness of our connections to one another — even when I haven’t known your offline name. Sometimes people have checked back in to register a sense of how this connected with their faith, or lack thereof — but that’s entirely beside the point (not to them and me, I mean, but to the notion of “how we are together”). At the heart of what we do together lies the extent to which our connections, yours to me and mine to you, affect us, our hearts and dispositions and actions; those connections don’t reduce in any true way to a simple “in” or “out,” “parish” or “other kind of community” dichotomy. It’s more complicated than that.

That’s different from “being a parish,” you may say — and that’s just my point. It’s an online way of congregating; it makes sense of how we gather and disperse online, and it fits. People who congregate around here accept me as a priest, even if they’re not sure what to make of that. I’m a priest for them, and they’re friends to me — and we make a pretty snazzy congregation, as far as I’m concerned. Better than that ol’ cyber-parish any day, so there!

Posted by AKMA at 10:17 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack

February 16, 2005

Still Recouping

I’m working out from underneath my five-day absence from Evanston and my sudden return thereto. I’ve actually gotten a couple of necessary errands done, and met my classes, and had appointments, and so on. Tonight, as soon as I finished my plate of Pippa’s Extreme Red Sauce (and some tube-shaped pasta, not penne), I dashed out to the western subrbs, to St. John’s, Mount Prospect, for an Adult Ed evening discussion. The whole building looked dark, though, and I had a very bad feeling about things. I had traded emails with the rector just this afternoon, and it says right here in my calendar. . . “St. Hilary’s, Prospect Heights.” Oh.

I’d have been fine getting to St. Hilary’s — it is, after all, only one town over from Mt. Prospect — but the road I was taking wove in and out of the edge of Prospect Heights, so when I saw the sing that said I was entering Wheeling, I doubled back. . . then I doubled back again, and discovered that if I stayed northbound a little further than the sign for Wheeling, I’d be back in Prospect Heights. Eventually, finally, I pulled into the church parking lot.

We talked for an hour and a half about biblical interpretation, allegory, and the Temptation in the Wilderness. They were patient and appreciative; I was relieved to roll home and sink down into bed. In just a few minutes I’ll be drifting off to sleep.

Posted by AKMA at 11:29 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

February 15, 2005

Catching Up

I don’t have a particularly good excuse — a time zone change of only two hours, and a day less busy than some — but I’m entirely exhausted. I had meant to post some photos to flickr, and to clear some backed-up email, but I can’t do it.

Mañana.

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Back


Home Away From Home
Originally uploaded by AKMA.
I’m back safely, with the kids, without my Valentine — but we had a great weekend together, and sometimes when we looked at the signs around us, it seemed as though we had never been away. . . .

Posted by AKMA at 12:18 AM | Comments (0)

February 14, 2005

Recap and Return

It’s been a busy weekend, with limited net access, but with lovely times with Margaret and Juliet and John. The wedding-blessing went beautifully; Margaret wrangled some relatives to be a server and an usher, and Juliet and John could think of no reason that their wedding could not be blessed, and everyone could hear me. There was a threat of rain, which would have dampened both flesh and spirit, but the greater climatic threat turned out to be a persistent gusty wind — especially problematic since the communion vessels were light.

Vigilance and piety prevailed over the brute force of nature, and Juliet and John are married in the sight of God as well as of the State of New Jersey. I’ve added the wedding sermon in the “Extended” part of this entry.

Yesterday we spent the morning at the beach, where I did my best to avoid ruining my library pallor while Margaret toasted herself. I did step out into the light to swim around with my goggles on — it was like snorkeling lite, or like a National Geographic video special for the easily terrified. I swam along with a school of fish that looked about as exotic as haddock. In fact, haddock look positively ferocious compared to these innocuous marine travelers. It was a treat, though, to see through the clear water, to swim around with little fishies, and then scamper back to shore to curl up in the shade with a copy of Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble. I grudgingly agree, by the way, that Butler ought to write more gracefully; unless I misunderstand her by a long margin, she could have made her points in much more vivid, clear prose.

An Anglican family who had come to the wedding wanted very much for me to bless their home, so Margaret and Juliet and I wandered over to give them a blessing. Their son was particularly concerned that we bless the space under his bed, so I was liberal with the holy water for his sake.

Today we leave for home; Margaret and I separate in Miami, and I’m scheduled arrive home in Chicago at about eleven o’clock (getting back to Evanston around midnight). I’ll be trading marital companionship and tropical leisure for full-time workand broadband access. Hmmmmm. . . .

The Blessing of the Marriage of Juliet Richardson and John Wynne
Ruth 1:16-17/Phil 4:4-9/Ps 67/John 15:9-12
February 12, 2005

+

Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I say, Rejoice!

In the Name of God Almighty, the Blessed Trinity on high – Amen.

It’s an odd thing, from a logical and psychological point of view, to command someone to rejoice. How would I obey such a command? With a forced grin and a hollow laugh? Wan cheeriness and parched humor? And it’s all the more strange when St. Paul commands us to rejoice always, always, no matter what the circumstances, and then repeats himself: “Again I say, Rejoice!” Even today, on as joyous an occasion as we’re permitted to share, in the company of John and Juliet and so many beloved friends and family, we may be permitted to think that Paul has gone a little over the top in urging us to rejoice, rejoice, rejoice always.

Paul is not, of course, selling us a cheery positive outlook as the antidote to every misfortune, to the frustrations that sometimes accompany married life, to the griefs that befall all mortals. A positive attitude may offer all sorts of benefits, but it does little by way of theological illumination. Paul wants for the Philippians, and for us, an understanding of who we really are, of how God loves us, and of where we fit into God’s tremendous, sprawling mural of creation. Paul wants us to share the joy of knowing the God who loves us intimately, utterly, fully – so fully that our God enters this troubled world on our terms, knows our pain, endures our limitations, and breaks apart the bounds that evil and mortality impose upon us.

God comes to us in the person of Jesus, a plain man from an obscure province, a wedding guest – who once upon a time gathered together a knot of friends, and taught them what it means to love one another. There’s more to loving one another than going fishing together; Peter and Andrew were already fishermen. More also than the shared ups and downs of a joint checking account; the sons of Zebedee seem to have been running quite a fair business with their father. There’s more to loving one another than the urgent intensity of passion and release; women and men among the disciples had been there, done that, and Jesus called them, calls them, calls us to something greater, something wiser.

We know from Jesus what we’ve learned by living together: that love does not prevent annoyance, frustration, hurt and sorrow. So we gather today on this holy errand because in a fragile world Juliet and John have promised to stand together for life, as we promise to help them, in Jesus’ name: that is, in the name of a hope, a grace, a love greater than vexation and sorrow. They have brought us here today in the name of life, kneeling before God as frail flesh, then standing among us as angels, supported by friends, sheltered by God’s blessing. We know from Jesus that when such love draws us toward the heart of God, then nothing can stop it, nothing can harm it, nothing can break the love that God has forged.

So when this evening, Juliet and John have volunteered to devote their whole selves to the shaky enterprise of reflecting to us the patient, forgiving, hopeful, sweet love with which God loves us – when we hear them say, “I do,” and when we answer their promises with our own pledge “we will” – they bind themselves to one another, and us to them, in a covenant of trust among people who care for one another, among people who turn to God for the grace of true blessing, among saints and sinners and plain folks and doubters and especially, especially among lovers – among lovers whom God has woven into a brilliant tapestry whose beauty banishes sadness, and brings all our woe to a perfect ending, and seals it with God’s glory.

In these promises, in this hope, there always lurks something of St. Paul’s joy to sustain us. Juliet, John, speak carefully and speak true – because although the words you are about to utter will sound like the quiet, simple affirmation, “I do,” once you utter them they will echo from the ocean, from the trees, from the walls of your home, in the hearts of your loved ones, your words will echo back from highest heaven with God’s responding affirmation to you: “Then, rejoice, always! Again I say, rejoice!”

Amen

Posted by AKMA at 07:16 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

February 12, 2005

Saturday

Wedding in five hours.

Sermon done.

House-blessing service compiled and printed (just in case — it’s a long story).

The spambots have been busy, haven’t they?

Miss you. Back soon.

Posted by AKMA at 10:08 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

February 11, 2005

Thin Linking

My Safari window is getting clogged up with pages I wanted to comment on and link to, but which I haven’t found time actually to write about. Some people solve this my putting d.elici.o.u.s links in a sidebar, but I haven’t girded my loins to figure that one out yet. I need to clear the decks, though, so let me point you to:

Adina Levin’s entry on friendship, conversation, communication, “social signals,” and online interaction — a very intriguing contribution to three or four discussions I benefit from.

Scott Matthews and Patrick Ross’s discussions toward a middle way in intellectual property publication, distribution, and remuneration. I’m resistant, not out of my determinedly piratical temperament, but from the sense that Scott’s proposal still owes more to perpetuating obsolescent economic customs than to maximizinng the efficiencies and possibilities of new technologies. But I haven’t taken time to think these over fully, so don8’t mind me.

Shelley’s fantastic overview and exploration of tags, tagging, memes, folksonomies, and how to exploit them. Speaking as someone whose name is already, in effect, a tag, I need to keep listening closely to her.

And in answer to her closing wish, she’s only one good tutorial away. . . .

Posted by AKMA at 10:05 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Dial-Up Interval

If you’ve left a comment, or are looking for constant-updating excitement, or whatever, please be patient. I’m depending on the bandwidth of, well, not “strangers” but people whom I’ve only just met. It’s slow and sporadic here, so I won’t be as available as usual.

Posted by AKMA at 09:05 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Whoops

Well, it was a long twenty-four hours of travel, but we have arrived safely for Juliet’s wedding. On the plane flight out, however — and this slightly modifies the adverb “safely” — Margaret turned and asked me, “So, how’s the sermon?”

I had been so determinedly focused on grading the stack of papers on my desk before I took off that I had entirely forgotten that I should prepare a homily. So for the time being, I’m thinking evangelical nuptial thoughts, and reminding myself that it’s unkind to preach more than a couple of minutes at this sort of occasion.

Posted by AKMA at 08:45 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

February 09, 2005

Pre-Valentine de Lubac Wisdom

Two years ago, I think, I posted a quotation from Henri de Lubac that Margaret sent me as a Valentine.

This year, she’s studying de Lubac in her doctoral program, and she regularly sends me clippings from her reading. This week, she excerpted some words from Catholicism, the 1950 translation of the French edition of 1947:

“Just to imitate primitive Christianity or the Middle Ages will not be enough. We can revive the Father's all-embracing humanism and recover the spirit of their mystical exegesis only by an assimilation which is at the same time a transformation.
For although the Church rests on eternal foundations, it is in a continual state of rebuilding, and since the Fathers’ time it has undergone many changes in style; and without in any way considering ourselves better than our Fathers, what we in turn have to build for our own use must be built in our own style, that is, one that is adapted to our own needs and problems.”

De Lubac proposes two conditions on those who would take up, perpetuate, and renovate the Fathers’ teachings:

“We must recognize in the first place the great diversity of the theories which have been professed in the course of Christian history on those innumerable subjects where religious truth comes in contact with our human preoccupations. Secondly, we must realize to how great an extent these theories depend on social, intellectual or cultural conditions in a state of contstant development.”

“For although dogma is essentially unchanging, the work of the theologian is never ended.”

Posted by AKMA at 07:42 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

February 08, 2005

Writing Curmudgeon

I really, really dislike the use of “reference” as a verb.

Posted by AKMA at 01:27 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack

Monday’s Homily

As I fight my way through a small stack of papers and fend off the daily barrage of small-but-urgent tasks, I’ll take a second to add yesterday’s homily to the “Extended” portion of this post. Everything went smoothly, I think, aided considerably by the fact that we used the same liturgical from all the way through the service (a rarity here). The sermon would benefit from some simplification toward the middle — I recognized, as I was preaching, that at least one clause had outgrown its surroundings and needed to be a sentence on its own. If I were preaching it again at another service, I’d have been busy editing and emending. . . .


Anderson Chapel of St. John the Divine, Seabury-Western
Amos 5:21-24/Ps 50:7-15/Luke 4:14-21
February 7, 2005

+

“Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream.”

In the Name of God Almighty, the Blessed Trinity on high – Amen.

On a good day, I can keep myself pretty fair-minded. I can remember to give to those who ask of me; I can shape my actions toward you, sisters and brothers, with generosity and patience. It doesn’t come easily from a stubborn old grouch such as I, but on a good day I can wring a few drops of justice and righteousness from the fabric of my soul. Sometimes I can put a few good days in a row – but let’s not push our luck.

On a good day, I can work up a certain degree of justice and righteousness – and that’s nothing to turn up your nose at. If we all bent our strength toward that goal, with cooperative help from our allies, we may be able to loosen the rust that hinders our efforts. We may as a group push further than the sum of our strength could get us as individuals. Laggards and activists, concentrating on the vision of God’s exquisite realm of freedom and abundance, we can set aside the liturgical planning sheets for a few hours and inch forward toward the prophet who sketches for us the oracle of liberation.

On a good day, we can grit our teeth and muscle out a few yards of justice. On a better day, we can let go, for one precious instant, the mistaken notion that justice lies within our grasp, that indeed we would recognize justice if it bit us in a sensitive place; on a better day, we can let go of the temptation to trade God a list of accomplishments in exchange for a certificate of righteous conduct. On a better day, we can remember the grace of God made known to us in the beauty of our loved ones’ smiles; in the precious trust of true friends; in a calling that entails both joy and pain; in the recognition that the deepest, wisest spirit for change comes to us not through our grim determination or strident scolding, but that Spirit comes to us on the Spirit’s own terms, by grace, regardless of our deserts or achievements. On the best of days, the Spirit of the Lord descends upon us, anoints us, energizes us for the discipleship that reverses our impulse to grind out justice, to extrude righteousness by force from the balky elements of reluctant flesh, and the Spirit sets us free with a gift of joy and relief to offer our praise of God in worship that expresses and inspires a restless hunger and thirst for righteousness. On the best of days, such righteousness never slakes our longing, but it vitalizes us to pursue our calling to celebrate, to rejoice, to liberate our strength in an abundance we can enjoy only when it is shared with everyone, anyone else: not to enforce justice, but to let justice flow down like rivers, and righteousness as an everflowing stream.

Amen

Posted by AKMA at 10:57 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

February 07, 2005

Boxing Models

No, it’s not a Rageboy post (I know, I know, I owe you a letter, Chris). I’m just looking for a good tutorial about implementing the Box Model Hack or one of its derivatives. The heat is on to make the Seabury site work for non-compliant browsers (Explorer), and I’d prefer to have as elementary a walk-through as possible. I understand what I’d be doing in principle, but I’d really like to have the templates work the first time through. Or second, maybe — but I don’t have the time to shoot for the seventh.

Posted by AKMA at 01:54 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Why Is He Wearing A White Dress?

One hesitates to think what Michael Bérubé’s “Mr. Answer Man” would say if he were turned loose in the field of liturgical vestments.

Posted by AKMA at 01:48 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

February 06, 2005

Apart From “Watch The Pizza”

Does anyone have any ideas for extracting pizza from the speaker of my iBook? Back at Chicago, I launched a slice of deep-dish pizza several inches from where I was carefully eating it away from my laptop, end-over-end, flop down on top of my formerly white iBook keyboard. . . and the left speaker.

Is there some way to clean out that space? It didn’t look as though there was an obvious way of gaining access to that when I removed the keyboard for a quick check. Margaret just gave me a stern look and said, “That will not continue” — so I have to find a way to fix it.

Posted by AKMA at 09:19 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

Preaching Again

I’m up to preach tomorrow morning, though I’ve been hiding from that circumstance for the last few days. Providence has assigned me Amos 5:21-24 and Luke 4:14-21, texts that the lectionary uses to arm-twist me into preaching about “social justice.” I appreciate the good intentions; some preachers would never acknowledge the existence of poverty or social inequality if the lectionary didn’t oblige them to. Still, those of us who try to integrate the church’s social teaching into a seamless cloth of theological ethics, resist the days that take out a two-by-four to whup you upside the head till you agree to homilize about justice. “Justice” doesn’t stand on its own; it derives its hold on our hearts from its situation within a tightly-woven network of convictions and practices, and a leaden mandate to preach about justice feels like the liberal equivalent of a hair shirt.

So I’m working on a sermon to turn the force of the readings a little bit, to inflect the determined obligation to preach on justice toward a less stultifying, finger-wagging sense of justice, toward the liberating joy of the freedom to thrive among other free souls, to live in a world of mutual respect and cooperation. But if I write more, it’ll poach the prose I’m reserving for the sermon. I’ll post it tomorrow, God willing.

Posted by AKMA at 06:01 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Morning Exercise and “Hi, Dave”

My morning exercise workout (such as it is) passes more nearly tolerably by virtue of my iPod. Every morning I pedal for about four songs’ worth of mileage, then come upstairs, do some sit-ups, and shower — before morning Prayer (or, today, Sunday Mass). So, this morning’s workout DRMA included “Girl Blue,” by Stevie Wonder; “Tusk,” the cover version by Camper van Beethoven; “D’yer Mak’er” by Led Zeppelin; and “Pinetop’s Blues” by Memphis Slim.

All of the above serves partly as a rationale for my including here the news that the Dave Rogers of “the Dave Rogers Music Alert” has opened a new blog, UXCentric, which signifies (if I understand him correctly) not “I find your outlooks and behavior unaccountably odd,” but “User Experience - Centric.” He’s not closing down Connect & Empower, which means that now I’ll have yet another blog to fall behind in reading. . . .

Posted by AKMA at 01:00 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Report From St. Luke’s

This morning’s interview and background [video] shooting at St. Luke’s seems to have gone quite smoothly. I greatly enjoyed meeting and talking with Florent, Roger, and the other gentleman (whose name eluded me when first we were introduced) (later: I checked, and he’s Arnaud — Bonjour, Arnaud!); I experienced that very odd sort of double-language consciousness overhearing them converse in French, while I relied mainly on English. It’s been years since I used my French for anything other than reading, and I kept finding myself eager to jump in with an observation en français, but realizing that one of the ten words I needed had utterly fallen out of my vocabulary.

The congregation was fantastic. Jeanette, our priest-in-charge, was very generous in allowing the crew space to work, and the church was relatively full. The choirs sang wonderfully, and all worked together to show our parish at its ordinary-Sunday best.

I hope that our interview provides Florent with useful material for the special he’s working on. A number of people have asked to know when the special airs — they have relatives in France, or they know someone who can receive the French station in New York, or they just want to see a copy of the tape Florent sends me. When they finish production, I’ll be able to look foolish in front of audiences around the world. This constitutes one of the great accomplishments of blogging: universal embarrassment!

I don’t know what I said at all — I kept reaching desperately for the spirit of David Weinberger, for his wit and insight, and unfortunately I kept getting a busy signal. So France 2 will have to settle for a slow-talking, easily-distracted theologian.

Posted by AKMA at 12:55 PM | Comments (3)

Body Building

Jordon points to a post from Wayne Jacobson to the effect that too many leaders treat the church as a project with which to tinker, to provide the correct model. If a consultant, or a candidate for a pastoral or staff position, or whomever, doesn’t make clear from the start that “the right structure” grows from the congregation’s character and its circumstances, its flavor and texture, environment and gifts, then by no means should we be encouraging them (much less paying them). Such a person reflects an idolatry of her or his preferred model — not a deliberative awareness of how the Body of Christ flourishes.

I have seen the havoc that “correct model” leadership wreaks. At best, the correct model actually bears a vague resemblance to what befits the congregation, so congregational life doesn’t suffer much. The alternatives only go downhill from there, though.

If we believe that the whole body promotes the growth of each part, when the parts are ordered toward the One who defines our identity and our way (Ephesians :15f, roughly), then we should understand that these mutually-dependent, mutually-supportive parts differ in fundamental ways, and that the love with which we strengthen one another forbids our imposing one-size (or “one-method-” or “one-model-”)-fits all answers onto sisters and brothers whose role in the body diverges from ours.

“On the contrary, the members of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable. . . .”

Posted by AKMA at 07:12 AM | Comments (4)

February 05, 2005

Trackback Is Broken

Listen, children, I remember way back when your Uncle Joi pronounced email officially broken. We’re still using email two years later, but today I shut down Trackback on this blog; I like Trackback when it links two related blogs, but the unmoderated character of pings has made Trackback too attractive a target for parasites. I’ll code in a “Threadorati” link tomorrow, probably. tonight, I’m just turning off the valve.

[Later: Done. I should’ve noted that the first few words of Shelley’s post prompted me to take the plunge. Now, all I have to do is go back and turn off Trackbacks on every post so far. . . .]

Posted by AKMA at 09:51 PM | Comments (1)

Another “For My Students”

Via Mark’s New Testament Greek Gateway, a copy of Herbert Weir Smyth’s Greek Grammar as a PDF — you can’t beat that with a stick!

[Later: Well, you could beat it with a stick if the PDFs were actual text instead of scanned images. But it’s still Smyth, and it’s still free.]

Posted by AKMA at 11:21 AM | Comments (0)

By Popular Request

Well, at Mark’s request, anyway, I’m resuscitating the Seabury “wet hay theology” thread. It got lost in one of Seabury’s transitions from one server configuration to another..

The formatting will be a little wonky, I suppose, but I’ll add the first few entries here, drop the rest into the extended entry area, and the comments are open once again. So, here we go:


January 10, 2003

Scripture and Mission

This idea that Jesus changed his mind and saw the larger horizons of ministry is a difficult one for me. I can appreciate a mission only to the Jews or a mission that is Gentile-friendly and I certainly don't have a problem with Jesus learning things or learning things from a woman, but I struggle with what it means about God's mission that Jesus potential audience could change.
Posted by Trevor Bechtel at January 10, 2003 08:20 AM


Comments

I think this is right
Posted by: Trevor on January 10, 2003 09:39 AM

I think it's full of wet hay!
Posted by: AKMA on January 14, 2003 01:54 PM

Since when was wet hay wrong?
Posted by: Trevor on January 14, 2003 10:17 PM

You've GOT to be kidding!
Posted by: Mary on January 15, 2003 06:45 PM

No, Mary. They are quite serious!
Posted by: Leigh VanderMeer on January 16, 2003 03:25 PM

I can't believe that at least three of us have read these comments and felt the need to comment :)
Posted by: Susie on January 16, 2003 10:25 PM

Trevor wrote:
"I struggle with what it means about God's mission that Jesus potential audience could change."

Process theology?!
Posted by: Leigh on January 17, 2003 12:04 AM

I thought process theology was more about GOD changing than the audience changing... if the audience is humanity, doesn't change just come with the territory?
Posted by: Susie on January 17, 2003 03:52 PM

The audience didn't change per se. Jesus did. His focus changed/expanded from seeing his mininstry as being only to the Jewish people to now including the Gentiles.
Posted by: leigh on January 18, 2003 10:08 PM

In the season of Epiphany, aren't we celebrating the manifestation of Jesus as King to the Gentiles? I don't think Jesus changed, I think we just caught on! Maybe the manger is where all this hay talk came in...
Posted by: Susie on January 20, 2003 10:23 PM

The theology of Wet Hay?!!!
Posted by: leigh on January 21, 2003 05:27 PM

Or... wet hay as a metaphor for theology?
Posted by: Susie on January 23, 2003 05:13 PM

Maybe we need to look at what the 'marks' of wet hay are? How would we know something is wet hay?

What would be the ways in which we would enculturate wet hay into cultures different than our own? What limits would we go to and when we would know whether or not we were bordering on syncretism? What if wet hay started getting mixed in with dry hay?

What if I stopped procrastinating and got to work on something I should be doing?!! :)
Posted by: leigh on January 24, 2003 08:38 PM

I wonder if being "wet" is a religious or cultural statement... And is the wet hay really all that different from dry hay? What about those allergic to hay?

And I wonder... do these comments count as partcipating in the blog?
Posted by: Susie on January 25, 2003 05:30 PM

You are not going to believe this! I am not making this up! Have you done your readings for Old Testament yet? Well, let me share a passage with you...

"Like thorns they are entangled, like drunkards they are drunk; they are consumed like DRY STRAW."

I think the spirit is at work here! :)

re: whether "wet" is religious or cultural...I think there's a baptismal thing going on here. Maybe the difference is pre and post baptism.

I need to think more about the allergy question.

Of course it counts! Everything counts in the Kingdom of God! :)
Posted by: leigh on January 25, 2003 10:52 PM

I like the analogy of Baptism... especially in light of the OT reading you mentioned :)

In terms of everything counting in the realm of God... I know that God counts every hair on our head. Is that like saying God knows every bit of straw in the hay stack?
Posted by: Susie on January 27, 2003 12:09 PM

I tried posting this before, but it crashed....

The real question is:

If a student posts a blog, but there is no professor to read it, is there a thought?
Posted by: Mary on January 28, 2003 06:55 PM

I think the only person who can answer that is our esteemed profs...
Posted by: Susie on January 28, 2003 09:55 PM

I realized last night that coming down from the anti-racism training I was experiencing a bit of the Dark Night of the Dry Straw.

After hearing Frank's sermon I know that God did not give me a spirit of fear, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline.... and of wet hay!

Onward!!
Posted by: leigh on January 31, 2003 07:58 AM

Ok, here's another...
Does Dry Straw exist in and of itself, or is it the absence of Wet Hay?
Posted by: leigh on February 1, 2003 12:51 PM

Or... is wet hay an improvement upon dry hay?

Way to get the profs to weigh in on the conversation :)

Is "way" the contraction for wet hay?
Posted by: Susie on February 2, 2003 10:43 PM

Do you mean that wet hay is dry hay redeemed? Is wet hay our sanctified state?

re: your other point...maybe 'way' did come from wet hay. Maybe it was a scribal error! So did Jesus really say, "I am the wet hay, the truth and the light"? :)
Posted by: leigh on February 3, 2003 01:31 PM

PS. There has got to be an easier way to get back to this spot to post.

Can anyone offer some guidance?
Posted by: leigh on February 3, 2003 11:50 PM

I'm pretty sure that we're the only ones still on this page...

What about the "straight and narrow way"? I guess hay is usually straight...
Posted by: Susie on February 5, 2003 09:27 PM

It's easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for us to get back to this page to post!

Posted by: leigh on February 5, 2003 09:47 PM

I'm not sure I can help. How do get here now? (No you're not alone.)

Not sure about redeeming hay. I know that wet hay rots. Used (processed?) hay ends up on the straw, I believe. the compost might be likened to the transformative power of cross? and the garden is the mission field. Flowers or vegetables?
Posted by: mary on February 11, 2003 06:42 PM

"Bringing in the sheaves...."

If you want to continue making hay, bookmark this page. The URL is [now] http://akma.disseminary.org/archives/2005/02/by_popular_requ.html.

Posted by: Wes on February 12, 2003 11:25 AM

Wes- Thanks for the bookmarking idea!

I hadn't thought about wet hay rotting... maybe we have the whole wet vs. dry thing backwards... maybe dry hay is better?

And what about straw really... is straw and hay like the sheep and the goats?
Posted by: Susie on February 12, 2003 12:56 PM

Wet is always better. It's a baptism thing. Not that dry doesn't have any redeeming values (desert experiences, etc...), but wet is definitely better!

What exactly is the difference between straw and hay anyway? And to what authority does wet hay hold itself to? Is it the same authority as dry straw? Is dry straw not wet because it's a refusenik?
Posted by: leigh on February 12, 2003 08:00 PM

Remember, you asked.

First there's the stalk, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. Then you take the ear off, and you end up with straw.

Now, grow some grass, with the little leaves and seed heads and everything. Then mow it. That's hay.

Hay - you get it when you cut them off at the knees! Straw - off with his head!

Posted by: Wes on February 12, 2003 10:03 PM

So maybe the question is about martyrdom then? Or about transformation? All hay and straw were orginally something else, and have become hay and straw through a process... So maybe its about full imersion vs. apsperging baptism?
Posted by: Susie on February 13, 2003 04:23 PM

Thank heavens it's not about getting chopped off at the head or knees!

I'll take immersion, thank you very much!
Posted by: leigh on February 13, 2003 10:22 PM

I didn't say the choice was between immersion and martyrdom!!

How wet does hay need to be to be considered "wet"? Is damp hay really wet hay?
Posted by: Susie on February 13, 2003 10:25 PM

I don’t know—this is some of the most sophisticated theological reasoning I’ve read since I came to Seabury. . . . Congratulations, gang!
Posted by: AKMA on February 13, 2003 10:48 PM

AKMA, you are full of wet hay.
Posted by: Trevor on February 13, 2003 11:26 PM

I could put a link to this page on the main page since it doesn't seem like this conversation is going to end any time soon.
Posted by: Trevor on February 13, 2003 11:27 PM

So the church is water (baptism) and the state is straw (unstable) then do we again have wet hay? Or have you already solved this
Posted by: Trevor on February 13, 2003 11:29 PM

When Trevor says that AKMA is full of wet hay, is that like saying he sees God at work in AKMA?

Hmmm... maybe hay and straw are state and church... since we know that water (mark of Christianity) can rot the hay (the state)?
Posted by: Susie on February 14, 2003 11:02 AM

good work susie
Posted by: Trevor on February 14, 2003 11:09 AM

hmmm.... don't know if I like the idea of the state being the straw considering what it usually catches.

But on the other hand, what gets us into trouble is when we think the state and the church are synonymous, or worse the state becomes our ultimate concern (i.e. God). Likewise if we feed on straw rather than hay, we are malnourished and hunger for "real food indeed."
Posted by: mary on February 14, 2003 07:41 PM

I hadn't heretofore considered the sacramental nature of wet hay... Who'd have expected such earthy country theology in Evanston?

Related musings: When the woman in the fairy tale (Rumplestiltskin?) spins straw into gold, is that an allegory about the Holy Spirit's work in the world?

And, if someone says you're "all wet," does that count as a blessing?

Mmm... all questions and no answers... must be seminary.
Posted by: Jane on February 15, 2003 08:15 AM

As I recall, only Rumplestiltskin knew how to spin the straw into gold, and she had to learn his name for him to come back the third night... 3 nights, unspeakable name... ringing any bells?
Posted by: Susie on February 16, 2003 12:56 PM

Rumplestiltskin taught her to spin straw into gold in exchange for the promise of her first-born child; she had three nights to learn his name, in order to save her baby.

Mmm... ritual to redeem the first born. This is sounding more familiar by the moment.

Posted by: Jane on February 16, 2003 09:58 PM

Bruce read this last night; he noted the lack of hay/straw awareness, and suggests a new section for the Gospel Mission curriculum: "Farm as Culture."
Posted by: Jane on February 17, 2003 01:26 PM

I see GM has been talking about Willow Creek. Back to water again, I see.

So, is Willow Creek all wet (blessed) or all wet (on the wrong track)? While I think Christ meets us where we are, does he meet anyone there?
Posted by: Wes on February 20, 2003 09:08 PM

"...does he meet anyone there?"

Yes, Christ does!

Posted by: leigh on February 21, 2003 01:50 PM

Whoops, that came out wrong. I didn't mean to say that Christ wasn't meeting people at Willow Creek.

When I wrote my previous comment, I had seen a number of postings that had questioned how Willow Creek does things. There's more of a balance now.

I haven't been to Willow Creek myself, but I am aware (through various readings) what Bill Hybels has done there. I might disagree with their theology, and find their worship quite different from what I'm used to. Even so, it seems that Christ is present there too.

Posted by: Wes on February 22, 2003 12:59 PM

Okay – I feel called to respond to this. Being a farm girl, I fear that we may have to re-examine the stated theology before this post. I understand that people may be upset with my “truth-telling” as it then confuses what has been previously posted. Points listed below may turn these theological reflections on their heads.

We must examine the purposes of hay and straw before we can discern where they might fit in our spiritual lives (as the basis for our spiritual lives?).

1. Hay is food. Hay is fed to cattle, horses, sheep, and goats as a substitute for grass. The nutritional value of hay is lower than that of grass. (Therefore, grass is superior to hay.)
2. Hay that is wet will mold. Moldy hay fed to cattle makes them sick. Moldy hay fed to horses kills them.
3. A further note – hay when it is cut, before it is bailed, can get wet. However, one must wait until it is dry again before bailing it. It usually also takes another trip with the rake to ensure that it is all dry (the rake flips the windrow over and allows the sun and wind to dry it again). Hay that is bailed wet or allowed to sit out in rain gets moldy.
4. Straw is not food. Straw is bedding. It is put at the bottom of stalls to soak up excrement. There is not nutritional value to straw and most animals are smart enough not to eat it.

Reflecting on some of the posting:
The initial insult of “wet hay” refers to the unusefulness of said hay.

Wet hay cannot be used for feed. However, wet hay does have usefulness. Wet hay can be composted and used on the garden. However, to be most nutritious for the garden, it should include composted manure.

So, unlike Mary, I do like the idea of the state being straw…

We may be able to salvage this discussion by reorganizing our priorities. How does grass fit in? Each substance has usefulness. What does that mean for our theological reflection?
Posted by: Heather on February 26, 2003 10:33 AM

Oh my. I did not know.

When I was in H.S., I held a summer job as a farm hand. I was all about hay and fencing. Other things to know about hay...

Hay is heavy, or at least bales of it are. Lately you see the the big round bales of it. They are too heavy for anything but a fork lift. Is there any theological import to the changing bales?

Hay is itchy. You have to wear long sleeves and jeans in the summer sun. Armor of God?

Snakes can reside in bales of hay. They get swept up in the machinery and crawl out of the bales rather irate. Genesis reference?

I found a hornets' nest the same way once. Ouch. No particular theological reference.

Performance reference: baling hay takes a team of people. It engenders community. There is room for strong and weak alike. I was a "catcher." The little guy who stands on the big stack of bales and catches the new bales. Exciting, no?

I have also shoveled out a lot of stalls. Amonia ios involved with straw. Can straw kill you? Maybe.
Posted by: Tripp on February 26, 2003 10:57 AM

Ahhh Heather, you didn't read my whole post. I did offer another hand - particularly about the straw (state) being confused for hay (God - that which nourishes).

Yes, the state does catch a lot of excrement, many times rightly so. On the other hand, it seems to produce it as well. Never heard of straw doing that!

Would that it were not so!
Posted by: mary on February 26, 2003 10:22 PM

One more fact to remember: when wet hay begins to mold, it has a peculiar smell... bluntly, it's like Martha said to Jesus about Lazerus in the tomb: it stinketh. Another good reason for not baling wet hay: that would WAY inhibit the engendering of community.
Posted by: Jane on February 27, 2003 08:54 PM

As Heather mentions, grass, straw, dry hay, wet hay - all have their uses, some of which aren't always obvious (e.g., wet hay on a garden was news to me - but I'm a city boy.) From what I can tell the GM2 class is seeing this same kind of variety in the ways of the gospel mission. (Please forgive me if my perception is "all wet".)

Maybe this ties into the parable of the growing seed (Mk 4:26-29.) The Kingdom of God is like the scattered seed in that it sprouts and grows, but the man knows not how.

Posted by: Wes on February 28, 2003 02:46 PM

Ahh...thanks Mary. I'm glad that you re-stated that.

Also - we were having some more conversations about hay.

(Dry) hay can be used as an insulator and can also make mattresses (though not as comfortable as feathers).

But a very important point was brought to my attention: wet hay can spontaeously combust. (thanks for the reminder, Todd!)

Burning hay is bad. It tends to take barns and lots of other hay and sometimes animals with it.
Posted by: Heather on February 28, 2003 08:10 PM

Yes, it's true. I got sucked into this wet hay thing also. And yes, wet hay can spontaneously combust. But not just any wet hay, it has to be bailed hay. Something to do with the water generating mold, exciting the atoms under pressure and POOF. So, is it possible that wet hay can symbolize both our baptism with water and our baptism in the Holy Spirit (that whole 'tongues of fire' thing)? And was it really a bush that Moses saw? Could it have been a bail of hay left by some herder that just happened to combust when Moses showed up?
Posted by: Todd Young on March 3, 2003 08:49 PM

My fear is that we are too concerned with the hay. Are we begining to believe that hay, most especially wet hay, is better than other farm crops? Is our focus narrowed by the cultural underpinning that hay is God's chosen crop...the Hay on the Hill? Does our concern and focus on the hay distract us from other incarnational exhibitions of God's presence on the farm?
Posted by: Bill Barfield on March 4, 2003 04:11 PM

wow. Can't leave the middlers alone for too long ;)

I may be a city girl, but I baled hay on a farm this summer. There was an awful lot of it. Maybe unbaled hay is the harvest - "The harvest is plentiful but the laborers are few."
Posted by: Susie on March 4, 2003 05:07 PM

Hay is our original state. Wet hay is our postbaptismal state. Moldy hay is our sinful state. This is what happens when hay is stagnant. As pointed out, hay can be used to ‘build up or tear down’…hay needs to be harvested (where are those darn laborers when you need them?!)
Regarding Bill’s fear that we are too concerned with the hay, I suppose if I were an exclusivist I would say that “hay is the way, the truth, and the life”. While hay may be our cultural recognition of God’s presence on the farm, maybe in another part of the world it would be rice. I just finished reading a book entitled, Living Buddha, Living Christ...in the context of this conversation it might be Living Rice, Living Hay.

But, the hay with this! I’m up for some new incarnational exhibitions of God’s presence on the farm.

Posted by: leigh on March 4, 2003 07:21 PM

Heavens, 60 comments (including this one) and still going.
Posted by: Wes on March 4, 2003 07:53 PM

Bill,

That's what I was getting at with my "growing seed" reference. (Maybe it was just a bit opaque.) It's not just hay or straw or grass. It could be wheat, rice, millet, sorghum, cattle, poultry, serpents (er, maybe not serpents,) Anglicanism, Catholicism, Fundamentalism, Willow Creek, Hinduism, Islam, Buddhism, etc., etc., etc.

What matters is growing in relationship with God.

(Does this make me a pluralist?)
Posted by: Wes on March 4, 2003 08:06 PM

Hey Hay...all are saved! The wet, the dry and the moldy!
So...to quote Rodney King, "why can't we all just get alone?" Ooops, Wes, I too will be judged as a pluralist, and even a heretic by some.
Leigh, salvation is at the harvest...so that leaves us to do what during the time inbetween? Grow and enjoy the gift of the growing season, even hang out with a few weeds, until Tripp 'catches' and bales us?
Posted by: Bill on March 5, 2003 02:08 PM

"Hey Hay...all are saved! The wet, the dry and the moldy!"

I think we have something here! Lyrics for a new hymn?! Printed on a t-shirt maybe?!!

What did Jesus say to the hay at the well?
Go and mold no more! :-)

What did Jesus say to the apostles?
Come and follow me...I will make you balers of hay!

What do you get when you cross a .....
Ok, it's getting late and I'm getting punchy!
Posted by: leigh on March 6, 2003 12:50 AM

Yup, very punchy. I hear hay bales may be good for that sort of thing...

In regards to Bill saying "salvation is at the harvest...so that leaves us to do what during the time inbetween? Grow and enjoy the gift of the growing season, even hang out with a few weeds, until Tripp 'catches' and bales us?" - This is exactly what we are left with: Hence the parable of letting the weeds grow with the wheat, lest we accidently chop down the wheat.

Back to those other farm grains again...
Posted by: Susie on March 7, 2003 05:56 PM

While working the other day I went to type the word 'Yahweh'.

I accidently transposed some letters and up came 'HAYweh'.

do think it was a coincidence?! :-)
Posted by: leigh on March 8, 2003 11:19 AM

Perhaps it was a call back to this website, and the little sub community it is. Perhaps then, it was a call to community? Hay, after all, is most useful in bales!
Posted by: Susie on March 9, 2003 02:32 PM

Bales?

Round or square? Alfalfa? Rye? You see, there is diversity even in hay!

Note: round bales are too big to catch.
Posted by: Tripp on March 9, 2003 10:24 PM

Heather or someone else who would know,

Is hay plural. can you have one piece of hay? Maybe it's because I'm Mennonite but I just can't imagine hay that's not in bales. Who would even want to?
Posted by: Trevor on March 9, 2003 11:26 PM

Well, those who actually EAT the hay would want it not to be in bales. Makes for an awfully big bite! Ever seen a depiction of a farmer with a piece of hay sticking out of his mouth (or in his hair)? I can't imagine suckking on hay, but I've had it stuck in my clothes. They set up mazes made out of bales of hay for city kids around Halloween - and "good mother" that I am, I go.

(My daughter says it symbolizes our spiritual journey because it is never clear what path we should take.)

To actually answer your question, I believe hay is a collective - like grass, or milk.
Posted by: mary on March 10, 2003 09:54 PM

A couple of points to…
Susie: “Hay is most useful in bales.”
Mary: “To those who eat…”
Along with Trevor: “I can’t image hay not being in bales”

Hay, I feel, is not useful unless there is a lot (therefore, this may be interpreted as plural). As Wes had said earlier, hay is just grass that’s been dried. So, in the movies (or at my house), when you are chewing on “hay”, that’s just a piece of dried grass. It’s much better to chew on a certain type of grass – it’s very sweet (just my preference).

But, in order to be useful to animals for nutrients, you need to have a bunch. However, this does not have to be in bales. Baling is a new result of the industrial revolution. Before that time, grass was cut with sickles, left to dried, picked up with pitchforks, and stored in the barn as a big pile of hay. (How the Amish still harvest hay, I think.) The bales are more “efficient” – can move more of it faster. But, what does that mean for proper use of the resources of metals and gas? Without the tractor and baler, we don’t need the metal to build the machinery. Just enough wood for the handles of the sickle and pitchfork and the wood for the blade and tines.

Rectangular bales are light enough to be lifted by a human. When these are fed, the “(baling) twine” that holds the bale together is removed. If you are feeding only part of the bale, then it comes apart in “flakes”. A horse would get about 4 flakes of hay a couple times a day.

The very large bales are moved to the field with a tractor and left with the twine holding the bale together.

Trevor, I would hope that you could be open-minded about the hay. We have listed hay’s usefulness. Which, of course, is not how you should evaluate everything you come across. How can we embrace all the forms of hay and recognize their gifts and unique attributes? Also, embracing the various types (as Tripp listed)?
Posted by: Heather on March 11, 2003 05:51 PM

When "Farm as Culture" is added to the Gospel Mission curriculum, I think Heather should teach that section. What about it, Heather-- Adjunct Professor of Agricultural Theology?
Posted by: Jane on March 12, 2003 07:48 AM

I need to ammend my comment about the Amish: they cut and rake with horse drawn implements. But still store loose hay. (I think I'm closer with this...)

Wow. Jane, you may have found a subject that I can teach! (I've been avoiding the whole teaching thing...it's not one of my strongest spiritual gifts...) Can I add "Deaf Culture" to the curriculum too?
Posted by: Heather on March 12, 2003 04:54 PM

How about Adjunct Professor of Theologically Deaf Hay?

Ah...nevermind.

I would say hay is always a collective. When I first moved out to the hinterland of Gum Tree, VA, I called those little individual pieces of hay "pieces of hay." You see, hay is only pieces of a larger whole when it is seperated.

"Flakes" is an interesting word. I too am oft a flake. If it were not for community I would cease to function in any useful way.
Posted by: Tripp on March 14, 2003 02:36 PM

Tripp,

In 'Wisdom Distilled from the Daily: Living the Rule of St. Benedict Today', Joan Chittister says "Alone, I am what I am, but in community I have the chance to become everything that I can be."

Ain't it the truth!!
Posted by: leigh on March 14, 2003 08:25 PM

Ah, Tripp: as Heather points out, flakes are very useful, if you have enough of them. Perhaps that's what seminary is for (and why I'm at home there!).
Posted by: Jane on March 15, 2003 08:51 PM

Back to Trevor's question... Hay is very hard to pick up unless its in bales. You can gather it, but the pieces fall out all over the place. That was my expereince at least.
Sounds to me like "flakes" are anti-community. So, the important question is... can wet hay flake?
Posted by: Susie on March 16, 2003 09:33 PM

Wow...I am in awe of all these postings.

Susie - I would doubt wet hay could flake; I would think clumping would be a more accurate way of looking at it. But I would bow to the knowledge of our esteemed Professor of Agricultural Theology before presuming a correct answer.

I would disagree that flakes are "anti-community"...after all many flakes make up a bale, so, would that not be community - the community of the bale. Just a thought.
Posted by: Margot Eccles on March 17, 2003 02:39 AM

I'm with Margot on flakes - they aren't anti-community - each is a community of its own.

Think of various types of hay (alfalfa, timothy, clover, Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Hindu, Buddhist, etc.,) gathered into bales (rectangular, round, Episcopal, Roman Catholic, Sunni, Shia, Jodo Shinsu, etc.,) with flakes as congregations, and "pieces of hay" as individuals.

The different types of hay mix easily when separated into individual pieces, or when growing in the field (though one doesn't normally do this). In the same way, it is relatively easy to interact with people of other faiths when we are in one-on-one situations, and when we realize that we are all one people in God, rooted in our "ground of being."

But when hay is in bales and flakes, it doesn't intermix very much. Likewise, there is separation both between and within faith traditions due to differences in doctrine, liturgy, tradition, etc.
Posted by: Wes on March 17, 2003 11:45 AM

Wes-
I do believe that you're on to something. Taking this another step, the "bales" are created by humans when God intended that we be "pieces" of hay. Instead of freely intermingling with other "pieces" we separated ourselves into flakes (denominations) and bound ourselves into bales (religions).

Now that we are bound into bales, we can't seem to be able to loosen the bindings that hold us in place. Bales are tightly bound - intending that they stay together until a large force knocks it apart. Moving as a "piece" of hay inside that bale is very difficult - pretty much impossible. Therefore, not only are we missing out on the interactions from each other, but may block out some of our interactions with God.

Might we be called to cut off the bailer twine and reconnect with all of the other "pieces" of hay in the world? How do we get enough force to break us out of our bale?
Posted by: Heather Voss on March 18, 2003 10:31 PM

Heather...in an attempt to address your question "how do we get enough force to break us out of our bale?" would the answer not be to ask God through prayer...that would seem the most powerful and yet gentlest way to break the twine. The other ways that come to mind are only going to lead to the destruction of not only individual "pieces" but perhaps the flakes or the entire bales...
Posted by: Margot Eccles on March 19, 2003 02:17 PM

Margot's right; hay doesn't break out by itself. The bale has to be broken open from the outside.

Does that mean Jesus is like God's pocketknife?
Posted by: Jane on March 19, 2003 02:30 PM

Oh Jane - the images that flood my mind: the Swiss Army Jesus...with at least twelve functions, changes water into wine, heals, walks on water......oh help!!!
Posted by: Margot Eccles on March 22, 2003 01:07 PM

Tripp says "pieces of hay," and all I see is a pirate parrot saying "Rawwwk! awwk!! Pieces of hay! Pieces of hay!"

No wet hay that I could see in California.
Posted by: dave on March 23, 2003 01:12 AM

I don't think it's necessary to break out of the bale one is in. There are many pieces of hay that spend their entire existence within a single bale. They are in community with those in the same bale, and the bale is suited to them due to tradition, enculturation, etc.

However, I think it is also important for each bale to at least acknowledge and tolerate other bales, and even those not in bales. One's bale is not fundamentally "better" than the others, as all are part of the "community of hay."

And on occasion, a piece of hay will fall out of its bale. It may be gathered into a different bale or regathered with members of its original bale (with a different flake, maybe.) One hopes that it doesn't lose community by remaining disconnected, merely drifting from place to place.
Posted by: Wes on March 23, 2003 09:42 PM

So, on this hay thing...Susie likes the swiss army Jesus. Now what does this do with the toothpick? And anyway, doesn't the Spirit break the bale and not Jesus?

Tripp would like to suggest a trinitarian model for hay...flake, bale and pocket knife. In this way we can see the great plurality in hay (Wes). This is a strong withness to the generosity of the Lord God of Balers...

What say ye?
Posted by: Heather & Tripp & Susie on March 24, 2003 11:31 AM

There's only one thing I can say right now - LOL!
Posted by: Wes on March 24, 2003 04:07 PM

A whole new look at the Gospel, translated into agricultural metaphor:

"For God so loved the bale..."
"... and the baler became hay and dwelt among us..."
"Go, therefore, and make flakes of all nations..."
Posted by: Jane on March 26, 2003 02:48 PM

(Wow, I'm on Wet Hay! ^_^) Jane, that leads me to an analogy that I'd be more comfortable with than the one Jeus gives. "Farmers of bales/hay/flakes" rather than "Fishers of men". It seems less violent and more like gathering into the fold.
Posted by: Si on March 27, 2003 09:17 AM

"Littered the stalls, and from the mows
Raked down the herd's-grass for the cows;
Heard the horse whinnying for his corn;
And, sharply clashing horn on horn,
Impatient down the stanchion rows
The cattle shake their walnut bows;"

This little snippet from Whittier's "Snowbound" informs us about loose hay in the hayloft... but more interesting perhaps is the sight rhyme of mows/cows/rows/bows... mow of course rhymes with cow, but in this case row and bow do not. What should we make of that?

But to the point: where does silage fit in your theological explication of fodder and bedding?

And by the way... all you young folks in Northrun Illinoise should zip up to Madison for the weekend of April 11 - 13. There's a conference that is sure to broaden your perspectives: "Hip Hop as a Movement" check this out Dick Gregory has replaced Congresswoman McKinney on the program and Barbara Lee may be there.

Posted by: fp on March 27, 2003 09:26 PM

Si, I like your new metaphor, and it is less violent. After all, love and being loved can cancel out all sorts of violent losses....
Posted by: Susie on March 27, 2003 11:04 PM

Very nice Si, we're all proud. Ok, I don't FULLY understand how all of this started but here's my view. Wet hay smells, it's dangerous in a barn, and harms horses. I don't have a CLUE how it relates to Jesus per se, but whatever works I guess. The thought of Jesus as a pocketknife........mmm........that does give one pause for thought. Have fun. : )
Posted by: Carolyn on March 28, 2003 01:28 PM

i had a dream...and though it was slightly off topic, i thought that i'd throw it in...

i'm at a friend's house (i haven't seen this friend since high school). she's having a party in her barn. so we start to clean it out. everything is out but the hay. she also wants the hay out. i thin that the party would be just fine with the hay (moving the hay seemed like an awful lot of work for one night). but she wants it out. so we have to move out all the bales and clean up the mess (of "pieces of hay") off the floor.
Posted by: heather on March 29, 2003 03:48 PM

Actually, your dream sounds like cleanup after Boar's Head. Hay in action, and there was no theologically redeeming feature to THAT mess.
Posted by: Jane on March 29, 2003 10:10 PM

Ok, to me thiss whole disscussion seems like a group of Seminarians getting together to do something, in order to avoid doing what they actually SHOULD be doing. SHAME SHAME!! Have fun ;)
Posted by: Carolyn on March 29, 2003 10:11 PM

I'm with you, Carolyn. While there are some good theological discussions here, it's a little too easy for some people to get sidetracked. *long pointed glare* Having said that, thanks for the support Susie, and very professionally put. ^_^
Posted by: Si on March 30, 2003 01:57 PM

I sense a pastoral concern at work here.

Si, what is at work here amidst hay is a new way to capture the theological imagination. It i interesting that you have introduced this new metaphor. I am grateful for hay itself is so very complicated.

I, however, need a redefining of hay. As a youth I frolicked a bit too furiously amidst hay. The "loft" is a great common space for frolic, but may not be the appropriate nature of hay.... Can hay contribute to frolicking? Someone help me out. Si?
Posted by: Tripp on March 30, 2003 03:20 PM

"this whole disscussion seems like a group of Seminarians getting together to do something, in order to avoid doing what they actually SHOULD be doing."

Yeah, and your point?! :-)

Did any of you Ethics I students notice the following quote in Galeano's book...
"The dry grass will set fire to the damp grass."

dry straw...wet hay?

Ok, do something with this.
Posted by: Leigh on March 30, 2003 03:29 PM

I apologize, but I can't resist sharing this. I laughed out loud after first reading it and immediately thought of this site and all the 'farm' talk.
It's from the book I'm reviewing for Ethics, After Christendom by Stanley Hauerwas, p. 115. The quotes within this quote come from a report sponsored by the Catholic Theological Society of America called Human Sexuality: New Directions in American Catholic Thought. It's the last line I got a chuckle out of in relation to this site...I mean blog.

"As far as I can tell there is only one clear case that is clearly off limits given the criteria of 'creative growth toward integration' and our lack of good data about the forms of sexuality that more nearly conform to that criteria - that is bestiality. As they say, 'where the individual prefers sexual relations with animals when heterosexual outlets are available, the condition is regarded as pathological...There is no question but that this practice renders impossible the realization of the personal meaning of human sexuality. Persons so involved need to be gently led to a deeper understanding and appreciation of the full meaning and significance of human sexuality'. Which seems to me to be a clear indication that this is a report written by urban dwellers that have very little appreciation of farm life."

Thank you Stanley!
Posted by: leigh on March 30, 2003 03:47 PM

Leigh,

Wah?! Is Stanley proponing sheepy love? Are we saying something here about the rich life that is rural life? What does this say about hay and aforementioned frolicsome behaviors?

Wow...radical orthodoxy is really that, no?
Posted by: tripp on March 30, 2003 06:22 PM

Tripp, I don't know of any innate relationship between hay and its location and frolicing, but then again, I don't want to touch your frolicings with a ten foot pole. Especially if it includes sheep.
Posted by: Si on March 30, 2003 07:04 PM

Stanley said it for me, Si. "[It] seems to me to be a clear indication that this is a report written by an urban dweller that have very little appreciation of farm life."

Should there be a truce betwixt and between us, young Adam? I am uncertain. Let us take this to our personal blogs as not to overtake the making of hay here.

Re: frolicing and hay - chalk it up to experience and a deep love of animal husbandry.

Stanley is so very wrong...lol!!!
Posted by: Tripp on March 30, 2003 08:26 PM

"The dry grass will set fire to the damp grass."

I didn't have the guts to say it in class, but this quote was one of the reason why I assigned this book for Ethics 1. I'm so glad you picked up on it Leigh.

It seems, at least for Galeano, that wet hay has a responsibility to the dry grass that it ignores at its own peril. If we allow too much dry grass to persist in this world we risk getting burnt. Our mission must be to make all grass wet. The proverb says nothing about the damp grass being burnt by something other than dry grass.
Posted by: Trevor on April 9, 2003 11:21 PM

Hmm... I took that sentence differently, since Fire is another Baptism symbol. Damp grass is neither really wet nor dry, its just damp. "I know your works; you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either cold or hot!" (Rev. 3:15) Perhaps we need to recognize the dry grass is there to fire ourselves up for spreading the waters to the rest of the field?
Posted by: Susie on April 12, 2003 02:07 PM

I came to bring fire...hmm...Susie and trevor are dancing around something here. Fire and water cleanse. The burned hay is cleansed. The wet hay is cleansed. But what remains after the cleansing? What is hay after it has been consumed? Is there a corolary here or has our metaphor broken down. I am not sure. But I like the two notions of purification.
Posted by: Tripp on April 17, 2003 02:11 PM

What is hay after it has been consumed?

"We are but dust, and to dust we shall return."

Purification, indeed.
Posted by: Jane Ellen on April 17, 2003 09:44 PM

Trevor wrote: wet hay has a responsibility to the dry grass that it ignores at its own peril.

The 'cost of discipleship' maybe?
Posted by: leigh on April 18, 2003 10:18 PM

Leigh, say more on this please! I'm not following you here...
Posted by: Susie on April 21, 2003 11:35 PM

Susie,
I was thinking along the lines of submitting to God whether we think it makes sense or not...whether it puts us in 'peril' or not. The wet hay lives out its responsibility to the dry grass through its obedience to the will of God.

BUT, I see now that I read Trevor’s post too quickly. The peril he was talking about is what happens when the wet hay is NOT faithful to its responsibility and ignores the work it is called to do. No wonder you were wondering what the heck I was talking about!! :-)

This idea still fits for me though. There is peril (worldly and spiritual) if we do not follow through, yet we still risk peril (worldly) if we DO follow through. What got me thinking this way was Bonhoeffer’s book, The Cost of Discipleship. Here are some excerpts that might help to clarify where I am coming from….

“The call goes forth, and is at once followed by the response of obedience.…. It displays not the slightest interest in the psychological reason for a man’s religious decisions. And why? For the simple reason that the cause behind the immediate following of call by response is Jesus Christ Himself. 61

Christianity without discipleship is always Christianity without Christ. It remains an abstract idea, a myth which has a place for the Fatherhood of God, but omits Christ as the living Son. … There is trust in God, but no following of Christ. 64

He wants to follow, but feels obliged to insist on his own terms to the level of human understanding. The disciple places himself at the Master’s disposal, but at the same time retains the right to dictate his own terms. But then discipleship is no longer discipleship, but a program of our own to be arranged to suit ourselves, and to be judged in accordance with the standards of rational ethic. 66

If we would follow Jesus we must take certain definite steps. The first step, which follows the call, cuts the disciple off from his previous existence. … The first step places the disciple in the situation where faith is possible. If he refuses to follow and stays behind, he does not learn how to believe. 66-67”
***********
I am also thinking about the idea of picking up the cross and denying ourselves. We deny ourselves for the sake of Christ. Who knows what is going to happen or where we will be led.

Our mission is to make all grass wet, regardless of the peril it may entail…that is where my thinking went. I am getting old you know…the brain is going! Where, I do not always know!

Another thought. Is our responsibility to the dry grass or is it to God?
Posted by: Leigh on April 22, 2003 08:34 PM

I believe that it is our primary responsibility to God that then makes us responsible for the dry grass-- keepers of our brothers and sisters.

At the same time, it is not we who "make all grass wet." We can witness to the grace, the dampness, and share that which is in our grass; but the rain is God's to provide. The grass can absorb it as it falls, or not. Free will dampness!
Posted by: Jane Ellen on April 22, 2003 08:50 PM

Jane, you sound practically anabaptist.

It is not water that changes, it is not rite that transforms. Rite and water point the way to the trasformation that faith in Christ has rendered. The element in baptism is not water. The sacramental element is Christ himself.

Perhaps I need to revisit the idea of community as sacrament...With this idea that Brother Menno proclaims, it may be all washed up.
Posted by: Recent Menno Simons Fan on April 30, 2003 07:05 AM

I've been called worse. (^_^)

Actually, I discovered a lot of sympathy with the anabaptists since I've been here; for one thing, they apparently produce patient teachers-- like the one who started this crazy blog!

Posted by: Jane Ellen on April 30, 2003 07:13 PM

a wayward thought I had on the long drive back to Evanston.

How come our society has a role such as 'Public Defender', but we don't have a designated role of 'Public Offender'?

:-)
Posted by: leigh on May 1, 2003 10:36 PM

We don't need that as a paid position... there are too many volunteers.
Posted by: Jane Ellen on May 2, 2003 06:11 AM

At first I was thinking of the role of a prophet. A person who by his/her statements and actions 'offends' the powers that be, the prevailing cultural ethos. Offends by holding up a mirror into which they are called to look.

Today in conversation with someone about this, their suggested example of a public offender in our culture would be someone like Jerry Springer. Certainly offensive.

Now after doing some reading from Budde's book, The (Magic) Kingdom of God, it seems to me that if we as Christians truly lived into discipleship as he outlines it, we would all be offenders. Offending those who accept and buy into the prevailing practices of the global culture industries. Offending by living out the Gospel message.

Something to aspire to!
Posted by: leigh on May 3, 2003 11:01 PM

Oh, Leigh, I like that! Faithful Christian witness as countercultural standard-bearer. A noble aspiration, indeed.

It's been a running joke with a friend of mine for some time about what kind of parish we'd start, after we get out of the "liminal space" that is seminary. Bruce has a name all picked out: Our Lady of Perpetual Insurrection. Anybody else want to come play with us, in Jesus' name?
Posted by: Jane Ellen on May 4, 2003 10:55 AM

I haven't been fooling with names for churches so much as I have been trying to come up with a name for my blog site...yes, I'm getting closer. Sucked in a little bit more each day.

I was thinking of 'Rock that boat!'
Any suggestions?
Posted by: leigh on May 4, 2003 11:16 AM

Ooh, I'm in for the "Lady of Perpetual Insurrection" I think insurrection may be a better semantic than "public offender" for me... Maybe we can use haybales in our revolution.
Posted by: Susie on May 7, 2003 11:08 PM

Not only that, Susie, but aren't pitchforks traditionally used in agrarian revolts? It all ties together... insurrection-pitchfork-hay
Posted by: Si on May 8, 2003 10:29 AM

Oh, my. Wow. Phew. Boggles the mind, it does.

I'm with AKMA. I haven't had a theological experience like this anywhere else recently. Wonderful stuff.
Posted by: Mark J. on May 8, 2003 09:31 PM

Mark,

Wait 'til we start going with the tricycle metaphor! Have you heard about that one yet?
Posted by: leigh on May 10, 2003 11:40 AM

jane - all about joining you with whatever! since i'm the farm girl, i can even provide the hay and the forks! (how many tines do you want on yours? and are the different number of tines - 3, 4, 5, or 6 symbolic? though forks with 3 and 4 tines are used for throwing hay whereas 5 and 6 tined forks are used for mucking stalls. i'm sure that this fits back with the church/state hay/straw discussion...)

leigh - you go with your trike!
Posted by: heather on May 11, 2003 01:18 AM

the tricycle thing even goes along with "Everything I learned about life I learned in kindergarten."

That's my first memory of a tricycle! Riding it along down the hall toting the little wagon behind it filled with milk cartons for snack time.

The tricycle is the good shepherd and the milk cartons are the sheep?!

Happy Mother's Day to all you mothers, sons and daughters!
Posted by: leigh on May 11, 2003 11:58 AM

Heather: by all means, make mine 3 tines-- very trinitarian. Hay flinging as evangelism?!

Ooh-- new thought!

Leigh: We could combine the metaphors: The tricycle, instead of milk, could be pulling a little hay wagon. Picture this: one person pedaling along, with another standing on that little step between the back wheels, spreading hay-- following God's command to "Feed my sheep."
Posted by: Jane Ellen on May 11, 2003 02:57 PM

Satan is often portrayed with a pitchfork. Why is this?

(Trivia - this is the 125th post in this string.)
Posted by: Wes on May 12, 2003 04:40 PM

Wes- thanks for keeping track... I was sort of wondering.

How about a two-tine fork for faith and works? I guess that wouldn't be so much like a fork...

And, in case you haven't been over there for a while, Tripp kept quoting Aquinas, saying "All is straw" and AKMA mentioned straw in his sermon at Leigh W's ordination...
Posted by: Susie on May 14, 2003 05:05 PM

I'm the type who would count - and it amazes Mary that I would bother.

As to forks, I keep thinking about one God, and come up with a one-tine pitchfork. Seems that it would be ineffective, but with God, all things are possible.

Besides, a one-tine fork sounds an awful lot like like a chopstick to me.
Posted by: Wes on May 14, 2003 10:33 PM

Satan with a pitchfork-- doesn't it seem that good tools are often misused to evil purpose in this world? Think of what scripture has been used to justify in the past-- and still is, in places!
Posted by: Jane Ellen on May 15, 2003 02:00 PM

has to be 3 tines!

I'm worried about you Wes. (^_^)
Sorry, that's the best smiley face I could do. Jane, can you help me out here?!
Posted by: leigh on May 15, 2003 10:19 PM

(^_^) is usually my smiley face of choice, Leigh; I don't know the HTML code for such. Hey, Susie-- can you help??
Posted by: Jane Ellen on May 17, 2003 09:05 PM

Um, I'm giving this a shot...

Posted by: Susie on May 20, 2003 05:57 PM

Well, that didn't work. I don't think this will take the code? But the tag is img src="(put the source in here... you can link to websites, if people store their graphics online). I'll try one more time:

Posted by: Susie on May 20, 2003 06:01 PM

This has been dromant too long... Jane: Instead of having one person on the back step of the tricycle spreading hay, perhaps using that thingie priests use to flick holy water at people? (Can never remember what it's called.) Thus, instead of spreading more hay, it would be dampening the hay that's already there. Someone take this and run with it.
Posted by: Si on May 30, 2003 11:54 PM

This has been dormant too long... Jane: Instead of having someone on the back step of the tricycle spreading hay, perhaps using that thingie priests use to flick holy water at people? (I can never remember what it's called.) Thus, instead of spreading more hay, it would be dampening the hay that's already there. Someone take this and run with it.
Posted by: Si on May 30, 2003 11:56 PM

but then the hay would be wet. and i'm still about defending that wet hay is helpful... it stinks up the place.
Posted by: Heather on June 1, 2003 08:28 PM

Is the tricylce moving? Because, if it is, then you wouldn't be able to control where you're flinging hay and/or water. Are we ready to take whatever we get when it lands?
Posted by: Susie on June 3, 2003 06:29 PM

I've heard that the tricycle metaphor was more fully developed in one of the classes - something about scripture being the big wheel. Anyone care to elaborate, or since classes are over, do you want to just ride that tricycle off into the sunset?

Posted by: Wes on June 4, 2003 11:11 PM

I think there has to be a balance between the speed of the tricycle and the flinging. Because we should be aiming but also allowing the Spirit to work through the "random" flinging. Grace comes in from the "mistakes". When we are centered on careful "driving" and responsive to where we are being led, we will be better bearers of God's word.
Posted by: heather on June 7, 2003 11:16 AM

Posted by AKMA at 09:17 AM | Comments (2)

It’s The Latest Thing From Katmandu

Margaret insists that the King of Nepal is standing in front of a crest, but I prefer to read the image on this page as one really ornate regal coronet. You be the jury —

Posted by AKMA at 08:18 AM | Comments (3)

February 03, 2005

It’s Alive!!

Yesterday Bruce resolved the problems that our upgrade had caused Seabury’s Moveable Type infrastructure, so when you all fired up your browsers this morning and went to the Seabury website you saw our new design.

Oh, and I hereby tag this entry with the Techn.icio.ickr tag "SWTS". I'm going to tag the Seabury flickr site’s photos with “SWTS” too. Seaburians — and I am given to understand that some of you read this page — tag Seabury-relevant images and posts with the “SWTS” tag, and the Web will find them and draw them together.

“Tagging — it makes David happy.” Isn’t that reason enough? (So now I have to tag this entry with “” and “,” too.)

Posted by AKMA at 09:50 AM | Comments (7)

February 02, 2005

Baffled Procrastination

I really must grade papers furiously today, because class meets tomorrow and I want to hand back the papers that have come in — and Margaret will be home for the weekend, huzzah!, so I won’t be spending a lot of time thinking about stacks of unmarked assignments. (It looks as though France 2 TV actually will come to St. Luke’s on Sunday to interview me — but that’s another strange story in the making.)

But before I resume my regularly-scheduled academic obligations, I was intrigued to notice that (a) Microsoft bandies around the word “trademarked” as casually as this — after all, isn’t restrictive intellectual property profiteering part of their business plan?* — and that on a Microsoft typography page, someone misspelled “ellipsis” five days ago, and it hasn’t been corrected since.

*I love the spin-control correction banner on that page, reminding readers not to call it Palladium any more, but NGSCB. OK, right.

Posted by AKMA at 09:42 AM | Comments (1)

Season’s Greetings

Happy Groundhog Day, Dave! And a blessed Feast of the Presentation of our Lord Jesus Christ to Christian theological readers. . . .

Posted by AKMA at 09:29 AM | Comments (1)

On Waking Up To Find Rageboy In My Mirror

Seriously.

I realized that the next hefty post I write will turn out to be one of those frighteningly comprehensive tracts so typical of my neighbor to the west (only without X-rated illustrations), wherein it turns out that every topic that’s ever crossed his mind is related to every other topic, and they all converge on a vitally important, hard-to-articulate point.

But when you see a post entitled something like “Visual Hermeneutics, Podcasts, Ceremonies, the Semantic Web, Tags, and Truth,” get out your tinfoil headgear, your special X-ray shaded glasses, and either skip ahead without looking closely or fasten your seatbelts. Me, I plan to skip ahead. . . .

Posted by AKMA at 09:23 AM | Comments (1)

February 01, 2005

One More Thing About Tags

An idea had been lurking behind all the persiflage of the last couple of days, engendered by Dan’s post and gestating undeveloped in my own long-winded intrusions.

If I were engineering so that they’d really catch on, I’d want them to be reader-generated (as in del.icio.us and flickr), but also to involve some sort of affirmation-disapproval mechanism, so that if a couple dozen people think that David Weinberger should be tagged “genius,” but one Lenny Bruce impersonator thinks he should be tagged “schmuck,” the two tags don’t have equal weight. (I don’t know whether the heroes of the information revolution at Technorati (“Technorati: the tag-related site that actually begins with an upper-case letter!̶!:), flickr, and del.icio.us are already on top of this — iot hasn’t looked that way, and the “MLK” brouhaha suggests that weighting tags hasn’t gotten that far).

The sense that my link-tag-vote counts in a cumulative way — “I should really tag David as a genius, lest the ‘schmuck’ votes defame him” as opposed to “now somebody’s tagged David as a genius, so I don’t have to” — that motivation might give this project legs.

I myself, of course, think that David Weinberger is a genius of unparalleled insight and profundity, as long as the monthly check clears.

Despite my positive remarks about tags in this and the previous post, I’m still reluctant about the whole enterprise. I suppose that thinking about the topic spurs me to pay closer attention to some of the positive prospects, while having actually to do something about it triggers my already-overloaded-ness. On the other hand, I’ve now begun going back through my del.icio.us bookmarks. . . and tagging them to make them more useful to me and others. It makes sense, durn it!

Posted by AKMA at 10:05 AM | Comments (1)