Snow, the Alien

I grew up in Texas, where snow is not something that is common. Most winters in Texas consist of lots of wind and the occasional drop below freezing. When this happens, everyone gets really worried and starts salting their driveways. Nothing typically comes from these short freezes, but it will on occasion start to snow. When this happens, all hell breaks loose. Schools are canceled, people call in sick to work because they are too afraid to drive, and lines at the grocery stores get really long. People buy jugs of water and cans of food because you just never know how long this snow is going to last! Well, it never lasts for more than a day and a half.

Today, I awoke to the following scene:

Thats right, it snowed last night in Milwaukee. When I saw the snow, my initial reaction was excitement. For most of my life, snow has meant a much-deserved rest from school and an excuse to lie around the house all day watching cartoons. My second reaction was more sober, even slightly depressed. Well, maybe not depressed…perhaps I’ll just stick with sober.

Anyway, what I realized was that this snow is not offering me a break or an excuse to have fun…this snow is reminding me that it is about to get REALLY cold here and thus my life will consist of indoor activities for the remainder of the year. Sobering, but not all bad.

So Apparently I’m a Roman Catholic

I arrived home from the SBL conference in San Diego at around 5:00 this morning, and was anything but well rested. I always try to sleep on airplanes, but it is difficult when every person who comes by brushes against you and then taps you on the shoulder to apologize. Also, the person behind me liked to get out of her seat a lot and, every time she got up, she would use my seat as a stabilizer. It was not pleasant. But, that is not what this post is about. This post is about my apparent conversion to Catholicism.

This afternoon, when I awoke from my post-flight nap, I decided to waste time on the internet. I stumbled upon an online quiz that is supposed to inform you of your theological identity, based on your answers to 25 questions or so. Were they good questions? Some were. Can you properly label someone’s theological identity with a five minute quiz? No. Can you have fun taking the quiz and then writing about the results? Absolutely!

As you can see from the graphic at the end of this post, my top three categories are Roman Catholicism, neo-orthodoxy, and emergent/postmodern. My Wesleyan roots only show up fourth!!! I’m a little concerned with the emergent category, mostly because I tend to bristle at the very mention of emergent (non)theology. I’m also not completely sure I know what neo-orthodoxy is. However, the most fascinating thing to me was the fact that I am, apparently, 82% Catholic.

I am in graduate school at an extremely Catholic university and am constantly surrounded by Catholic peers who constantly question me on why I’m not Catholic. I personally feel that I do a fairly good job of defending myself against their inquiries. Why am I not Catholic? Well, I have a problem with Papal infallibility as well as some Catholic social teachings (required celibacy for priests, no women priests, etc.). Not small concerns, in my opinion.

So, this is the way I’m interpreting the results of my survey. I have been attending Episcopal churches for the better part of three years or so. I like the Episcopal Church because they think of themselves as good Catholics. Not in the sense that they are connected with Rome, but in the sense that they hung on to many things that the Catholics do well, and they let go of things that needed to be let go. So, with that in mind, I’m taking the 82% Catholic label and I’m going to take that as “you’re an Episcopal.” I figure the missing 18% is the Papal infallibility and the ordination requirements. What do you think? Sound like a plan?

SBL San Diego

Well, tomorrow evening I am off to San Diego to attend the annual meeting the SBL (Society of Biblical Literature).  This means that for the next few days I’ll be rubbing elbows with (and drooling over) some of the brightest minds in the world of biblical scholarship.  I also get to spend time in San Diego, which I’m really looking forward to!  There will hopefully be frequent updates, depending upon how accessible the internet is.

Reading in Communion

There are not many books on my shelves that I would refer to as ‘required reading’ for Christians. Granted, there are a few possibilities; Works of Love by Søren Kierkegaard, Fred Craddock’s commentary on Luke, Faith Seeking Understanding by Daniel Migliore, and perhaps The Corinthian Body by Dale Martin. It is not often that I find myself wanting to add to a list such as this, already meager and, dare I say, ‘questionable’ in most eyes. However, today I finished a book that I think should be at the top of any Christian’s list, especially those who are involved in any sort of decision making or are curious about ethics.

Reading in Communion: Scripture and Ethics in Christian Life is a fascinating read by Stephen E. Fowl and L. Gregory Jones. It addresses many of the issues surrounding contemporary Christian ethics, but it is not just useful for those in the field. On the contrary, this book is useful and powerful for anyone who reads their Bible with any regularity. As well, it is especially apt for those who have stopped reading their Bible because they have become disenchanted with attempting to ‘apply it.’

During my last year or so in seminary, I became introduced to and intrigued with the field of Christian ethics. My first ethics class, taught by Dr. Timothy Jackson, was a truly eye-opening experience. I found myself in agreement with the majority of Dr. Jackson’s conclusions, which were arrived at from his reading of the New Testament’s presentation of agape, or self-giving love. However, while I agreed with his conclusions, as a Biblical Studies guy I did not agree whole heartedly with the way he used the New Testament to reach them. Something about it just seemed to ‘easy’ for comfort. Since that class, I have been searching for a better way and have read close to 20 books claiming to base their ethics off of the New Testament. None of them really satisfied my search, until I found this book by Fowl & Jones.

The main premise of the book is that the reading of scripture should always be done communally. Similar to the point that Stanley Hauerwas makes in his Unleashing the Scriptures, they argue that the text of the Bible can only be rightly interpreted in the context of the community. Pragmatically, of course, this does not mean that one should only read the Bible when there is a group of people around, although they may agree that this is a good place to start.

As well, Fowl and Jones insist that only a properly formed character is central for a responsible interpretation of the text. The character that is required is produced largely by the work of the Holy Spirit, as well as through the practice of witness and conversation. It is incorrect to thing that those will character will always interpret faithfully, and it is possible that someone without a well-formed character will interpret faithfully. Their point is that ‘the character of interpreters and Scriptural interpretation are bound up with one another” (85).

Scripture, they argue, must always be read ‘over against’ the community that is attempting to interpret it. In this way, they consider the Bible to be a sort of outsider that calls our practices into questions and leads us to live and function differently in the world. Hearing and being in conversation with ‘the outsiders’ is absolutely essential to a right understanding and interpretation of Scripture. Their specific example deals with the homosexual community, which has been alienated by the church for some time. The current situation with the homosexual communities is, as they write, a sinful one. “Our desire to see the body of Christ united must lead us to act in ways that will rectify the situation. Only then can a community hope to arrive at a faithful reading and performance of Scripture” (116). In short, the church can not rightly interpret the message of the Gospel if they are characterized by alienation rather than reconciliation.

The book concludes with a chapter on Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German theologian who was arrested and executed by the Nazis for helping the Jews and for plotting to kill Hitler. Bonhoeffer, they claim, was a living example of what it meant to live and embody the message of Scripture. He continually struggled with his pacifistic beliefs as well as what he thought was his Christian responsibility, a responsibility that was calling him to the possibility of violence against evil. Up until the time of his hanging, he was deeply involved in a dialogue with the Biblical texts, and was constantly open to new interpretations and ‘readings’ of himself. Bonhoeffer, as he himself wrote of someone else in an unfinished novel, ‘paid for the Word of God with his life and taught it with his death.’

Clap Your Hands and Say OCD!!!

Today I observed something startling from my living room window which effectively forced me to rethink and redefine what I mean when I speak of ‘anal-retentiveness.’ Let me first provide a bit of background to this story.

My neighbor from across the street is an interesting character. The day that I moved in, he came to my house, knocked on my door, and told me that if I needed to borrow his lawnmower, I knew where to find him. Translation: “Your yard is ridiculously overgrown and it offends me, please fix it.” I assured him that I was going to be purchasing a mower that weekend and that all would be well soon enough. Also, I pointed out that, in fact, my yard was not really that overgrown after 1.5 weeks of not cutting it. Now, fast forward a couple of months:

A few weeks ago, I had my second conversation with my unusual neighbor. He informed me that the property lines in our neighborhood are strange and they don’t line up precisely with the concrete driveways. Actually, he said, they overlap the neighboring yard by about four inches! I pretended to be impressed, although I failed to see the significance or implications of his new discovery. Today, however, I witnessed the implications of such an overlap, and I remain in awe even as I am writing this.

As I looked out my window this afternoon, I saw my neighbor mowing his yard (not an unusual thing for a Saturday). He went over it three times, which is also not unusual for him…after all, you want to make sure that you get every blade! After he finished his yard, he scooted over to his neighbor’s yard, and proceeded to mow the 4 inch strip that he recently discovered is actually his. This struck me as highly unusual, especially when I considered the fact that his neighbors almost never cut their lawn. But, there it was, a perfectly manicured, 4 inch strip of grass beside an unruly jungle of grass.

The story sounds unbelievable, and in fact it would be if I did not provide pictures to prove that it actually happened. I think it may be time to redefine and amplify what we mean by anal-retentive, because my neighbor has now taken it to the next level.

Click the images below for the full effect.

 

The Meaning of History

In one of my classes today, we touched on the issue of the Bible’s historicity.  Namely, what do Christians believe (or what should they believe) concerning the historical nature of the Bible.  Should we believe that every word is historically accurate, even in the face of dissenting scientific/archaeological/common sense evidence?  Is the belief in the historical accuracy necessary for a rightly oriented faith?  The class ended, for the most part, on questions like these, although the conversation continued with a few of my classmates.

Shortly after I began my religious studies major at SMU, I took the first class that really challenged my faith.  Throughout high school and most of college, I maintained a fairly conservative, fundamentalist stance towards the Bible and Christianity in general.  If the Bible said it, we had no right to question it.  If the Bible didn’t say it, we probably shouldn’t worry about it.  My Hebrew Bible class changed all of this, however.  As most Hebrew Bible classes do, we began with an analysis of Genesis.  Our professor made a point to show us that there were, in fact, two different creation stories and that they didn’t agree with each other.  He then moved on to say that neither of them was meant to be read as a historical account of the earth’s formation.  Needless to say, my conservative sensibilities were a bit shaken.

Towards the middle of the class, I found that we had covered a lot of ground.  Abraham may or may not have existed; there was never a worldwide flood; Moses probably didn’t exist; there is no evidence to support the wilderness wanderings of the Israelites; the first person in the Old Testament who is supported by outside evidence is David, and he is only mentioned once.  I had almost reached the point where I was going to dismiss my professor as a hack.  He was clearly a dirty atheist and didn’t know what he was talking about.  Then, for a reason still unknown to me, I decided to try and take him seriously and see where it got me.

Throughout that semester, I continued to wrestle with what he taught, and the questions kept piling up in my head.  Toward the end of the class, I found myself surprisingly comfortable with questioning the historicity of the Bible.  Perhaps I just discovered that I am a cynical person by nature, but the main reason for my comfort came from a reorienting of my faith and a redefinition of what I meant when I said “history” with regard to Christianity.

All religions have stories of origin, there are no exceptions.  It is, after all, important to know where you come from.  Most of these stories, however, are mythic in character and do not present themselves as what historians would call “good history.”  Christianity is no exception to the rule.  However, it would be wrong to simply dismiss these stories as “false” or “misleading.”  They are not intended to give an accurate portrayal of history (as if there is such a thing), they are intended to give an accurate portrayal of history as it pertains to the faith.

The stories that we find in the Old and New Testaments paint a vivid picture of God’s work in the world, they do not provide a wonderful means of reconstructing the past.  They are stories that are told from the memories of the faithful, memories that are shaped and fueled by experiences of God and a love for God.  We all tell stories, and even our stories change as time goes on.  This is especially true when our stories are about someone or something that we remember or think of fondly.  The stories I tell of my grandfather, for example, are drastically different now than when he was alive.  I have not altered them on purpose, but I am aware that they have changed because my memory of him has changed.  This is a characteristic of memory…it changes with time and emphasizes certain things while ignoring others.

So, in this regard, the question is not “Is the Bible historically accurate?”  Rather, our question should be, “What do we mean by historically accurate?”  If by historically accurate we mean that the Bible should be read like a history textbook then I would have to say that no, the Bible is not historically accurate.  If it is to be read as a history textbook, then it is a bad history textbook.  However, if by historically accurate we mean that the Bible is an accurate source of information that tells the story of our faith, then I would have to say that yes, the Bible is historically accurate.  Just because it isn’t factual doesn’t mean it isn’t true.

Abandoning a Book

When I moved to Milwaukee, I made the scandalous decision to start reading books I actually enjoyed, alongside those that were required for class. While I was at Emory, I focused all of my energy on my class material and, although I had some free time, I convinced myself that reading for fun was somehow irresponsible. So, I’ve started reading fiction again, which has proven to be quite enjoyable.

About a week ago, I started reading The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie. It was published in the late eighties and caused quite a stir in the Muslim world, to the point that the Ayatollah Khomeini issued a fatwa against Rushdie. Basically, any Muslim who finds Rushdie has the responsibility, as a good Muslim, to kill him or to have him killed. Not surprisingly, this sent him into hiding for quite some time.

So anyway, I started reading this book primarily because I wanted to see what all of the fuss was about. Could it really be that bad? Well, it was that bad, but not for religious/political reasons. It was bad because I had no idea what was going on throughout the entire first portion. I got to the end of the 100th page, and I still had no idea what was going on. I consulted online resources to guide me through it, and I still had no idea what was going on. So, I’ve put it back on my shelf and will return to it another time. I’m not claiming that it is a bad book, I just don’t think I’m in a place where I can sort through the nonsense.

I’ve met quite a few people in the past who view books as ‘good friends.’ When they pick up a book, it is almost as if they have invited someone into their house and consequently they feel as if they owe something to the book. As a result, they will suffer through what even they consider to be a painful experience, driven only by a sense of obligation. I find myself in complete disagreement with regard to ‘owing it to the book.’ With the exception of books for class (which you should finish) and those few books that you know you need to read, like them or not, I refuse to be bound to a book that I don’t like. If the author has not made any sense or has failed to impress me in the first 100 pages, I’m giving up on them, at least temporarily. Thus, I have begun a new section at the bottom of the ‘books’ page entitled ‘abandoned.’

Colors the Bunny

My mom and dad have started the process of sorting through my old school stuff. As most excited, loving parents do, mine saved nearly everything I touched until I turned 18. So, there are about ten boxes filled with old school papers/tests/drawings/etc. They managed to make it through the first two this evening, which took them up through second grade. My mom scanned and e-mailed the following story to me, which is apparently the first story I ever wrote for school. I found it very amusing and have decided to share it. I’ve left everything the same, although I have corrected my horrific spelling in the parentheses. If you want to see the original, click here. So, without further delay, I give you the story of “Colors the Bunny,” written about two months before I turned seven.

Colors was a little bunny. He lived in a forest by the lack (lake). Colors was magic. One day, a fox came by. He looked at the bunny and chasted (chased) him. Colors got eaten by the fox. A tiger came and ate the fox and spit the bunny out. The bunny ran away as (fast as) he cood (could). Wen (when) he got home he went to Bed. Wen (when) he got up he went out to take a picture of the fox and the tiger. Good thing he had some Maches (matches). Becaus (because) the tiger ate him. And he lit a mach (match). And burnt the tiger. the tiger spit the bunny out. And the bunny ran away agin (again) and plaed (played) in his house. The end

I wonder how people will see me when I’m gone? I leave you with the following, with what I assume to be a drawing of Colors himself.

 

I Sometimes Feel Like Sisyphus

For those unfamiliar, Sisyphus is a character from Greek mythology who is being punished for something  His punishment?  To roll a large rock up a hill for all eternity, never reaching the top due to the nature of the rock that he was pushing.  At some point in his climb, the rock would escape him and roll right back down, thus his task would begin again.

I sometimes feel like Sisyphus, although I don’t think I’m being punished for anything (hopefully not).  As you may recall, my last post was about the leaves that attacked my yard a couple of days ago.  I raked them up, into the street, and was happy to do so.  This morning, when I awoke, I saw that the majority of them had blown back up into my yard, joined by a fresh batch that had just fallen.  So, tomorrow, I will rake again.  Undoubtedly, I will continue to rake until the snow comes and I will have a good excuse not to.   However, I feel this frustration in other areas too.

I cleaned my house a couple of days ago.  I swiffered, I dusted, I put away my crap.  Today, somehow, it is dirty again, perhaps because I refuse to maintain cleanliness on a regular basis.  Also, I was behind on my lectionary, I realized this morning.  So, I sat down and plugged through the last two weeks.  They’re now almost done.  However, on Sunday, there will be a new selection to tackle.

So, what is the moral of this post?  As far as I can see, the moral is that life is painfully predictable sometimes.  We try to lessen this predictability by ignoring those things that have become predictable (cleaning, homework) only to find that they continue to pile up and must eventually be dealt with.  I’m not sure if there is a way to take the monotony out of life.  There are ways to lessen it, I suppose, but it will always be there in one way or another.

That sounds like a downer, but it isn’t meant to be.  The point is not that we should try to make every moment new, unpredictable or exciting.  A life full of unpredictability can, after all, become as monotonous as a predictable life.  I suppose the point I’m trying to make is that it is important to find joy in the everyday tasks, as well as the extraordinary.  Life is, after all, made up of the little things.

If Leaves Were Money, I’d Be Rich

But they aren’t, so I’m not. This does not change the fact that a great deal of wind came out of nowhere last night while I slept. When I got up this morning, the window in my bedroom was moving like a speaker cone. After I fixed my coffee downstairs, I looked out of my front window and realized I could not see my yard. It has been buried underneath about two inches of leaves from the tree in my yard. The sad thing is that my house seems to be the only one on the block affected by it. The rest of the yards are clean and green while mine is hidden. I do enjoy fall, but at times like these I wish I lived in the desert, or on a boat. Yesterday, I was wondering what to do with the free time I was going to have after finishing my paper. Now, I know.