the beloved community

last week i had the opportunity to spend a few hours with an acquaintance who serves as pastor at a local congregation. we spent a few hours catching up with each other. how our families were doing. how work was progressing. how church was going. in the course of our conversation several things brought the idea of "church" to my mind (things he saw as "problems" within his church; his unstated, but obvious uncertainty about my participation in our church; and, for that matter, whether we are even in a "church"). for the last few days, then, i have occasionally migrated back to my thoughts on this subject. what is the "church?" what does it mean to be a member of the "church?" as my thoughts ramble back to such things, i am reminded of an essay i read the morning following the time spent with this acquaintance. in "writer and region," wendell berry hopefully defines the beloved community as "common experience and common effort on a common ground to which one willingly belongs" (what are people for?, 85). while he is not speaking specifically of the "church," his definition is quite applicable to the community of saints. the beloved community. the community of the beloved.

be still

as the offering was being taken and the eucharist was being prepared this morning, the choir at st mark's sang an arrangement of be still, my soul, a beautiful hymn written by katherina von schlegel in the eighteenth century. one of my favorite renditions of this hymn is by joanna hogg of the group iona on her solo album looking into light.


"Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future, as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice Who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Be still, my soul: when dearest friends depart,
And all is darkened in the vale of tears,
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrow and thy fears.
Be still, my soul: thy Jesus can repay
From His own fullness all He takes away.

Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord.
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past
All safe and blessèd we shall meet at last.

Be still, my soul: begin the song of praise
On earth, be leaving, to Thy Lord on high;
Acknowledge Him in all thy words and ways,
So shall He view thee with a well pleased eye.
Be still, my soul: the Sun of life divine
Through passing clouds shall but more brightly shine."

the joy of brit-coms

''Some men find it embarrassing to talk about their droopy-do-dahs."
--Tom Ballard

so said the hero of one of my favorite british comedies, waiting for god, as he faced the plight of prostate cancer. certainly not a funny topic, but tom and diana dealt with the subject with their usual crotchety grace and adroit cynicism. two of the reasons i love this show. leanne and i spend most saturday evenings watching the brit-coms on ket. at present, we try to catch the broadcasts waiting for god and as time goes by every week. occasionally we also watch keeping up appearnaces. no matter how many times we have seen the week's episode (and usually we have seen it quite a few times), we laugh. almost every week, one or both of us remarks, "that's such a good show." and i know we mean it every single time. now, i suppose i could go on to lament the blight of much of american television, such as the plagues of survivor or american idol. i'll resist that urge, strong though it is. instead, let me simply say that i look forward to our saturday evenings alone watching tom, diana, lionel, and jean. i look forward to hearing those five familiar words, knowing we always mean them and enjoy saying them together: "that's such a good show."

what is wanted is a learner

preparing to be somewhat ready for the jobmarket next fall, i have spent a fair amount of time perusing job announcements. one thing i have seen relatively often in these postings is a request for teaching portfolios that include a philosophy of teaching statement. so, i talked with my advisors about such a beast and googled it as well. the advice i have received so far from all my sources on the topic of writing a philosophy of teaching statement is simple: think about what you hope to accomplish in the classroom and how you plan to reach such goals. then, put that on paper.
so, i think about it. i think about the classes for which i ta'd at uk. i think about the classes i taught at ius. i think about the classes i will teach in the next academic year. then, as i was reading wendell berry's poem healing a few days ago, i made to a starting revelation. i do not want to teach. what i want is to foster learning. when i think about the profs whom i enjoyed the most and grew the most under, they were men and women more concerned with helping me learn than they were with teaching me specific things. so, i think i may have a place from which to begin my philosophy statement.

"VIII
There is finally the pride of thinking oneself without teachers.

The teachers are everywhere. What is wanted is a learner.

In ignorance is hope. If we had known the difficulty, we would not have learned even so little.

Rely on ignorance. It is ignorance the teachers will come to.

They are waiting, as they always have, beyond the edge of the light."
(wendell berry, "healing" in what are people for?)

who you calling a wimp?

a friend made me aware of the following commentary written by the president of sbts, al mohler. now, since al signed the diploma from my master's program, i think that makes it ok for me to interact with his many social commentaries. and i suppose i ought to admit that for the most part, i generally agree with him, though i almost always wonder about his inability to see exactly what he is really saying.

a nation of wimps?

"Are we raising a nation of wimps? That's the surprising question raised by a recent article in Psychology Today. Writer Hara Estroff Marano argues that America's parents are coddling our kids into wimps--leaving them unable to cope with challenge, difficulty, or disappointment.
She points to the playground, where kids are surrounded by rubber, lest they scrape their knees--and parents who won't let their children play along with other kids, but supervise every moment and call it "play."
These parents demand that their kids get special attention, want every child on the team to receive the same award, and then send their kids off to college with the cell phone as a virtual high-tech umbilical cord.
Observers warn that American parents are turning their kids into permanent adolescents who never make it to adulthood. Parental "hyper-concern" has replaced the parent's goal of raising mature adults. This is a warning we all need to hear."

now, since i am fairly certain that mohler experienced some of his life as a "wimp," i suppose that he has some credibility when it comes to speaking of such things. of course, i can make that same argument for myself. so, my comments on al's comments. as usual, i think he says much that should serve to alarm responsible christians of societal tendencies. again, as usual, though, i think he fails to see where many responsible christians are implicated in this tendency. i have known many "responsible" christian parents who send their children to private christian institutions, especially during the elementary, middle, and high school years. all too often, the unstated motivation for doing this was not so that the young persons in question might get a better education. no, it was for their protection. protection from the trials of life. protection from skinned knees. maybe, a parent might argue, the attendance at such schools is part of raising a child in the nurture and admonition of the lord. i suppose it can be. but given the spiritual climate of so many private christian institutions, i doubt this usually happens. especially if many of these concerned christian parents are shirking their responsibilities and expecting the school to provide the bulk of the nurture and admonition. no, seems very similar to the padded playgrounds to me. and, as any one over the age of 25 or so knows, those things suck. in the end, i think al is correct. but, lamentably, responsible christians are part of the problem, raising a nation of spiritual wimps.

on a side note, a longer version of this commentary can be found at mohler's blog, which i must say is a fun place to keep up on all sorts of things that matter to all sorts of varying degrees. sometimes the subjects even matter as much as al contends.

sound like anyone you know?

while on the 17th floor in lexington last week waiting for dan to end a phone call and talk with me about a chapter submission, i read all the newspaper clippings on dr. c's door. most of the said clippings were comic strips, but there were a few op-ed pieces about any number of political ruminations. one particular paragraph from an editorial by molly ivins from the june 29, 2003 issue of the lexington herald-leader caught my attention. while the essay focused on the issue of global warming, i felt the spirit of a few particular sentences could be applied way beyond global warming (maybe i thought this due to recent developments in "biblical" counseling). anyway, maybe these lines can be applied to some of your life experiences as well:

"Fond as I am of many of API lobbyists I have known over the years, I am not quite sure I want these bozos calling the shots on global warming. They have no scruples, they have no decency and they have no shame. Also, they lie."

the power of words

beginning in early december, i started reading wendell berry's fiction. i only wish i had followed the urging of several friends and visited the world of the port william membership even sooner. last night, i came to the end of the port william stories (at least as of this moment). in hannah coulter, wb once again was masterful. every one of his stories, frankly, had moments that amazed, grieved, amused, and brought ecstatic joy. the passing of uncle jack beechum in the memory of old jack. the impromptu funeral in a place on earth. a barber's love in jayber crow. the death of a husband as remembered in light of his life in hannah coulter. in the hands of an amateur, words are deadly. but in the hands of an artist, those same words are powerful beyond measure. wendell berry certainly belongs to the latter category.
now, i suppose i might move on to read some of wb's nonfiction and poetry. without doubt, though, i know i will revisit several passages from the stories i only recently finished. the world that berry has created is not a perfect world, by any stretch. but it is a very real world, marred by sin and changed by grace. his stories about this community could be seen, i believe, as a sort of port william theology, which teaches much about god's grace to a fallen and sinful world.

"As I have told it over, the past visible again in the present, the dead living still in their absence, this dream of time seems to come to rest in eternity. My mind, I think, has started to become, it is close to being, the room of love where the absent are present, the dead are alive, time is eternal, and all the creatures prosperous. The room of love is the love that holds us all, and it is not ours. It goes back before we were born. It goes all the way back. It is Heaven's. Or it is Heaven, and we are in it only by willingness. By whose love, Andy Catlett, do we love this world and ourselves and one another? Do you think we invented it ourselves? I ask with confidence, for I know you know we didn't." (hannah coulter,158-9)

views from my office away from home

on a somewhat dreary day in mid-february, the window table at heine bros. remains inviting. a welcoming place to read, write, and observe the day. even the nearby conversation between a male sbts student and a female sbs student (yes, the absence of the t is presciently intentional) can't quite ruin the view, even though he did just say, "ain't nobody fightin' to get out of here. we're beatin' 'em off with a stick." part of an attempt to make some sort of theological argument about the superiority of the united states in light of the opinions of peoples from other countries around the world. i must admit i do like this place much more when such students frequent java down the avenue.

 

the perverse pleasure of criticism

"remember ruth and naomi and mary and rosa parks," the older lady said to me. i nodded in approval, believing she was asking me if i remembered these names and the lives they represented. before she said anything else, though, i realized this wasn't a question. rather, it was a suggestion, a critique. then, immediately, i understood her.
in the sea of handshakes, smiles, and "good job" comments, came a genuine response. now, i can't say for certain that the other responses weren't honestly given by honest people. in fact, i'd like to believe that more than a few of them were correct in their assessment of what they had recently heard. but this lady--with her smile, firm grip, and criticism--made it clear that she had listened to my words. "i really thought what you had to say about belief and its consequences was important," she continued as i grasped what she meant, "but hearing about all those men only made me want to exclaim, 'women believe, too.'" now, even given the constraints of twentyish minutes, i have to admit she was right. if i am trying to relate the significance of the conversation betweem nicodemus and jesus to the life of the twenty-first century, specifically the congregation sitting before me, then why not use examples to which everyone can connect. i didn't mean to be insensitive (and she didn't say that i had been), but, well... seems authentic christian patriarchy (to borrow a phrase i recently saw used in a positive light) reared its ugly head.
maybe it's a perverse pleasure i enjoy too much, but give me meaningful, honest criticism anyday. at least it shows you paid attention to something. anyone can say, "good job." even without listening or reading at all. "remember ruth and naomi and mary and rosa parks," however, supposes at least minimal participation and contemplation. give me that.

the epistle to diognetus

one of the hymns we sang today at st. mark's was a selection from the epistle to diognetus (ca. 150 AD). it was a perfect selection to accompany the gospel lesson for 2 lent, john 3:1-17 (the primary text i used for my sermon). according to the oxford dictionary of the christian church, the anonymous letter was written as an attempt to argue that paganism and judaism could not be tolerated; that christians are the soul of the world; and that christianity is the unique revelation of god, whose love brings about the salvation of humanity.
the day's hymns and the texts worked well to remind those of us worshipping together that true belief in jesus leads to a new birth from above wrought by the spirit of god. on the basis of this new birth from above, the saints of god rely on his grace and mercy as he applies the righteousness of christ to their lives. in turn, their belief leads them to be mindful (though perhaps never as mindful as they ought to be) of their service of worship to god, loving god with all their heart, soul, and mind and loving their neighbors as themselves.

the epistle to diognetus

The great Creator of the worlds, the sovereign God of heaven,
his holy and immortal truth, to all on earth hath given.

He sent no angel of his host to bear this mighty word,
but him through whom the worlds were made, the everlasting Lord.

He sent him not in wrath and power, but grace and peace to bring;
in kindness, as a king might send his son, himself a King.

He sent him down as sending God; in flesh to us he came;
as one with us he dwelt with us, and bore a human name.

He came as Savior to his own, the way of love he trod;
he came to win us by good will, for force is not of God.

Not to oppress, but summon all their truest life to find,
in love God sent his Son to save, not to condemn mankind.

je on happiness

as i am preparing for st. mark's saturday afternoon service, i came across the following selection from one of jonathan edwards's miscellanies on the subject of happiness. it has nothing whatsoever to do with the lessons for this week, which all deal with belief, justification, and the righteousness of christ. it does, however, compel me to reflect on the communion believers have with god through christ.

"How soon do earthly lovers come to an end of their discoveries of each other's beauty; how soon do they see all that is to be seen! Are they united as near as 'tis possible, and have communion as intimate as possible? how soon do they come to the most endearing expressions of love that 'tis possible to give, so that no new ways can be invented, given or received. And how happy is that love, in which there is an eternal progress in all these things; wherein new beauties are continually discovered, and more and more loveliness, and in which we shall forever increase in beauty ourselves; where we shall be made capable of finding out and giving, and shall receive, more and more endearing expressions of love forever: our union will become more close, and communion more intimate."

--Miscellany 198

beginnings

so, apparently "everyone" blogs these days. with political ambition, with theological imprecision, with devotional aspiration. seems rather perverse to me. the thought that someone, somewhere, even remotely cares what i think. rather perverse, indeed. a common excuse given for such an exercise (i lifted this from a friend's blog) is that "blogging is great because it not only gets you in the discipline of writing every day, but it also helps to think critically about issues as a Christian." i can buy the first motive. furthermore, i think it's a wonderful discipline to nurture. i feel that way even more as i strive to spend five to seven hours most weekdays working on my dissertation. discipline is the correct concept. something cathartic about expressing oneself on paper, though, even if it's simply a narrative setting up the eighteenth-century world. the second reason for blogging, namely, to think critically (thanks for not splitting that infinitive, by the way) about issues as a christian, is a little harder to buy. of course, i think we christians ought to do nothing less. but i suppose such a statement rubs me the wrong way because it assumes we could do anything less. then, when i think about, i guess we christians (especially of the evangelical stripe) all too often don't really think critically about issues. we are definitely good at criticizing both issues and those who have and make issues, but not too adept at thinking about such things and such people. so, maybe this blog thing serves a purpose after all. only way to find out is to begin...