"There is nothing more grotesque than to think of a Christ who would want to establish committees."
-Hans Urs von Balthasar
Amen and Amen!
Showing posts with label Humorous. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Humorous. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Monday, August 27, 2007
First Day of School
Today is the beginning of a new school year for me. I have always loved these new beginnings - when I was a kid, it was so exciting to go back to school, to play at recess with your friends again, to meet your new teacher, to use your new school supplies and to wear your new outfits. In beginning what, hopefully, will be the final year of all my years in education, I find that these little joys are no longer present. I'm currently wearing some pants that I got as a gift two Christmases ago, a shirt I bought last year, and a pair of shoes that I've had since my third year in seminary. In fact, as I think of it, this might be the exact outfit I had on the first day of school last year. My school supplies are the same, simply remove the old notes from the binder and insert some new paper. Of course everything is done on computer now and I can't remember the last time I needed a glue stick or some crayons. I have new professors this year but, quite honestly, that prospect scares me more than anything. Its rather nice to already know what your professor expects. And unfortunately we have no recess here, though it is nice to study with some familiar faces.
And though the joys are not the same, I find that there are indeed still joys. I haven't seen many of my classmates since the spring - one of my friends has been in Australia all summer, another one in Boston. It will be good to see them. I'm excited about my classes. Though there is no anticipation of learning and memorizing more of the multiplication tables or spelling words with three syllables, there is an anticipation of new subject matters, and new horizons to integrate. And as with every beginning, the Lord has new mercies all over the place. We just need to be aware of them, and to appreciate the stage of life in which the Lord has it. Because we will never be here again.
I love being a student.
And though the joys are not the same, I find that there are indeed still joys. I haven't seen many of my classmates since the spring - one of my friends has been in Australia all summer, another one in Boston. It will be good to see them. I'm excited about my classes. Though there is no anticipation of learning and memorizing more of the multiplication tables or spelling words with three syllables, there is an anticipation of new subject matters, and new horizons to integrate. And as with every beginning, the Lord has new mercies all over the place. We just need to be aware of them, and to appreciate the stage of life in which the Lord has it. Because we will never be here again.
I love being a student.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Musings from a Beach
"Yet, as everyone knows, meditation and water are wedded forever." -Herman Melville, Moby Dick
(Note to the reader: Since last Friday, my wife and I have been on vacation at Panama City Beach, Florida. When a person sits hour after hour looking out at such a powerful part of God's creation, namely the ocean, he has much time to ponder the deep and the shallow things of life. The following have been some of mine:)
1. There is, perhaps, no place where litter is more visible, and more disturbing, than on a beach.
2. In one of my morning walks, I happened upon a school of minnows swimming in the shallow waters of the ocean. They were constantly being moved by its powerful waves, drug into the shore and then pushed out again. But they kept swimming and together they kept moving. I thought it an apt picture of the church's existence in the world. Pity the poor minnow who finds himself swimming alone.
3. Given that reading is an aesthetic experience entailing not only the words on the page but the surroundings in which they are read, Moby Dick, if it is to be read at all, should be read on an ocean beach.
4. There is a military base nearby. Every so often, a fighter jet or a helicopter flies by piercing the clear, blue air with its stream and the peaceful sounds of the tides with its thrust. It reminds me that even this most serene and peaceful of environments cannot be likened to paradise. For the specter of war is never far off here. Why must this be?
5. George Costanza may have said it best: "The sea was angry that day my friends, like an old man trying to return soup in a deli."
6. Take heart freckled ones. I have found that if you stay outside long enough, all of your freckles eventually come together into one and thereby giving you the appearance of actually being tan.
7. The dolphins have been thick here. I have heard it said that dolphins are intelligent enough that if they ever came together, they could take us over. And this, I am told, is something we should fear. Why, I'm not sure. The seem playful enough. Anyway, I don't think they can do much worse than today's average world ruler.
8. Though it might not be the case that the world is my oyster, I can now most assuredly say that the ocean is my toilet.
9. There is little that can be added to the experience of a sunset over the ocean, save a good wife and a good cigar.
(Note to the reader: Since last Friday, my wife and I have been on vacation at Panama City Beach, Florida. When a person sits hour after hour looking out at such a powerful part of God's creation, namely the ocean, he has much time to ponder the deep and the shallow things of life. The following have been some of mine:)
1. There is, perhaps, no place where litter is more visible, and more disturbing, than on a beach.
2. In one of my morning walks, I happened upon a school of minnows swimming in the shallow waters of the ocean. They were constantly being moved by its powerful waves, drug into the shore and then pushed out again. But they kept swimming and together they kept moving. I thought it an apt picture of the church's existence in the world. Pity the poor minnow who finds himself swimming alone.
3. Given that reading is an aesthetic experience entailing not only the words on the page but the surroundings in which they are read, Moby Dick, if it is to be read at all, should be read on an ocean beach.
4. There is a military base nearby. Every so often, a fighter jet or a helicopter flies by piercing the clear, blue air with its stream and the peaceful sounds of the tides with its thrust. It reminds me that even this most serene and peaceful of environments cannot be likened to paradise. For the specter of war is never far off here. Why must this be?
5. George Costanza may have said it best: "The sea was angry that day my friends, like an old man trying to return soup in a deli."
6. Take heart freckled ones. I have found that if you stay outside long enough, all of your freckles eventually come together into one and thereby giving you the appearance of actually being tan.
7. The dolphins have been thick here. I have heard it said that dolphins are intelligent enough that if they ever came together, they could take us over. And this, I am told, is something we should fear. Why, I'm not sure. The seem playful enough. Anyway, I don't think they can do much worse than today's average world ruler.
8. Though it might not be the case that the world is my oyster, I can now most assuredly say that the ocean is my toilet.
9. There is little that can be added to the experience of a sunset over the ocean, save a good wife and a good cigar.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
A Bit of Levity
Prior to entering seminary, I spent about eight months as a youth pastor at a First Evangelical Free Church in Boone, Iowa. Since many of my readers did not know me at that point in my life, I thought I would give you a little idea of the kind of youth pastor I was. This video pretty much sums it up, wouldn't you agree Kelli B.?
Friday, May 11, 2007
End of the Year Reflection
I am happy to announce that I have turned in my last paper and finished my last test and the first year of my PhD program has officially come to an end. There are many ways that a man like me could reflect on this last year. If you've been reading since September, you have heard the majority of my reflections. I have learned a lot and I have grown a lot. I feel more confident in my vocation and in my giftings from the Lord to complete this process. (Translation: I'm no longer waiting for them to kick me out.) The things that I have learned will stay with me; some of them I will be ruminating on for the remainder of my life. But all those things, I am certain, will come out on these pages sooner or later.
I thought, therefore, that a more appropriate approach to this year's assessment would be to share with you some of my observations of being in a PhD program at Marquette University, particularly as they differ from my Masters program at Asbury Theological Seminary. Take the following with a grain of salt. I assure you that they are all true, but none of them reflect on the quality of the institution, individual, or education and experience I received or am currently receiving.
Top Five Differences Between Asbury and Marquette:
1. Asbury is an Evangelical Protestant Seminary; Marquette is a Catholic University.
2. Asbury is outside the official ranks of the Methodist Church because it is viewed as "too conservative"; Marquette is outside the official ranks of the Catholic Church because it is viewed as "too liberal".
3. Asbury professors wear collared shirts and occasionally business suits; Marquette professors wear the Collar and occasionally Monastic robes.
4. Asbury's end of the year party consists of a barbecue and Diet Coke; Marquette's consists of a smattering of Wisconsin beers and a selection of fine wines and liquor (provided by the department).
5. Asbury's Final Greek exam was a sight translation of John 15; Marquette's final Greek exam was a sight translation of a passage from Diogenes (I don't even know who that is).
Top Ten Marquette Experiences that would never happen at Asbury:
1. Taking an entrance exam after I had already been accepted.
2. Writing a 25 page paper and being told that not even this is enough space to make a substantial argument.
3. Finding no research in English for a paper I had to write.
4. Hearing the "F Bomb" in class from a professor.
(I did hear an Asbury professor say "Darn it all" once.)
5. Being assigned a new paper (in addition to the impending final) in the final two weeks of the semester.
6. Readung the "F Bomb" in an email from a professor.
7. Hearing the statement: "I can say that the resurrection was probably physical, but that's about all I can say."
8. Facing a professor's look of incredulity when I told him I couldn't read French.
9. Having a meeting with a professor while he had a smoke.
10. Being told I was a "schismatic."
These are the shockers of the year. But I hope you have been able to tell from my posts that the majority of students and teachers at Marquette are strong and faithful Christians, even if they have a beer or a smoke once in awhile.
I thought, therefore, that a more appropriate approach to this year's assessment would be to share with you some of my observations of being in a PhD program at Marquette University, particularly as they differ from my Masters program at Asbury Theological Seminary. Take the following with a grain of salt. I assure you that they are all true, but none of them reflect on the quality of the institution, individual, or education and experience I received or am currently receiving.
Top Five Differences Between Asbury and Marquette:
1. Asbury is an Evangelical Protestant Seminary; Marquette is a Catholic University.
2. Asbury is outside the official ranks of the Methodist Church because it is viewed as "too conservative"; Marquette is outside the official ranks of the Catholic Church because it is viewed as "too liberal".
3. Asbury professors wear collared shirts and occasionally business suits; Marquette professors wear the Collar and occasionally Monastic robes.
4. Asbury's end of the year party consists of a barbecue and Diet Coke; Marquette's consists of a smattering of Wisconsin beers and a selection of fine wines and liquor (provided by the department).
5. Asbury's Final Greek exam was a sight translation of John 15; Marquette's final Greek exam was a sight translation of a passage from Diogenes (I don't even know who that is).
Top Ten Marquette Experiences that would never happen at Asbury:
1. Taking an entrance exam after I had already been accepted.
2. Writing a 25 page paper and being told that not even this is enough space to make a substantial argument.
3. Finding no research in English for a paper I had to write.
4. Hearing the "F Bomb" in class from a professor.
(I did hear an Asbury professor say "Darn it all" once.)
5. Being assigned a new paper (in addition to the impending final) in the final two weeks of the semester.
6. Readung the "F Bomb" in an email from a professor.
7. Hearing the statement: "I can say that the resurrection was probably physical, but that's about all I can say."
8. Facing a professor's look of incredulity when I told him I couldn't read French.
9. Having a meeting with a professor while he had a smoke.
10. Being told I was a "schismatic."
These are the shockers of the year. But I hope you have been able to tell from my posts that the majority of students and teachers at Marquette are strong and faithful Christians, even if they have a beer or a smoke once in awhile.
Friday, April 20, 2007
A Blazin' Good Birthday
Today is April 20th. It is my birthday. It is also a counter cultural holiday celebrating the smoking of marijuana. No one knows exactly why. Some link it to a group of teenagers called "The Waldos" who, in 1971, met every day after school (at 4:20) to smoke pot (thank you Wikipedia). Others link it to the slopes at Aspen, where the last run of the day would be about 5 minutes to 4:00, meaning that everyone would get to the bottom at 4:20 and celebrate the day by blazing some doobies. Either way, 4/20 is generally recognized as their national holiday. Happy birthday me.
It should come as no shock to my readers that I have not had any personal experience (on my birthday or otherwise) with the smoking of marijuana. However, it occurs to me that my birthday has been linked to a blaze of sorts.
Nine years ago, my 20th birthday, I was a freshman at Iowa State University and I had volunteered my services as a Parade Aide in the annual VEISHEA parade (VEISHEA is the celebration of Iowa State University). For the average Parade Aide, this would entail walking beside a big float and nothing else. Unfortunately I am not the average person and it meant an entirely different experience for me. It was such a good story that I wrote about it in my weekly column in the Iowa State Daily. If you are interested, you can read it here.
Happy 4/20 bloggers! Stay off the hash.
It should come as no shock to my readers that I have not had any personal experience (on my birthday or otherwise) with the smoking of marijuana. However, it occurs to me that my birthday has been linked to a blaze of sorts.
Nine years ago, my 20th birthday, I was a freshman at Iowa State University and I had volunteered my services as a Parade Aide in the annual VEISHEA parade (VEISHEA is the celebration of Iowa State University). For the average Parade Aide, this would entail walking beside a big float and nothing else. Unfortunately I am not the average person and it meant an entirely different experience for me. It was such a good story that I wrote about it in my weekly column in the Iowa State Daily. If you are interested, you can read it here.
Happy 4/20 bloggers! Stay off the hash.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Lion or lamb? (Part I)
We learned in kindergarten that March often comes in like a lion, but then goes out like a lamb. And then there are those great years where March comes in like a lamb and also goes out like a lamb. Unfortunately, there are also some tricky years when March comes in like a lamb but then goes out like a lion. But the real awful years are when March comes in like a lion and then goes out like a lion!
With all due respect to my mother (who was my kindergarten teacher), that whole lion/lamb thing really doesn't help us much.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
On First Days and Winter Nights
Second semester is upon us my friends, well, upon me anyway. Fairly shortly I expect it to start applying its weight. Additionally, Milwaukee winter has finally shown up and it appears to be making up for lost time. Average high this week has been 23 while the average low is somewhere around 8. Our old fashioned radiators are working overtime to keep our apartment at some level of comfort, which results in loud hissing and clanking noises. The other night, when my wife was away at work and I was sleeping alone, I awoke in the middle of the night to the ominous sounds of breathing at the foot of my bed. Faced with the prospect that someone was in my room, I literally felt my body go cold, which is quite a fete considering how cold I was already. I had the same feeling today in my first class - Advanced Hellenistic Greek - when the prof handed out a page from some obscure Greek document, printed in all capital letters, which looked something like this:
ΑΤΕΝΙΣΑΣ ΔΕ Ο ΠΑΥΛΟΣ ΤΩ ΣΥΝΕΔΡΙΩ ΕΙΠΕΝ
and told us that we were going to site read: "Mr. Lashier, would you like to start?" Have I mentioned that I have not studied Greek in over two years and that I never learned the capital letters of Greek in the first place? I quickly shot the girl sitting next to me a look that was somewhere in between hatred and panic. After all, she was the one who convinced me to take the class, assuring me that we wouldn't really get into the material for two weeks (she had the same prof last semester), which would allow me plenty of time to retrieve the Greek that I'm sure is somewhere in the cobwebs of my brain. No such luck. But in the words of Judy Garland, I muddled through somehow, or at least I have convinced myself I did, in the same way that I have convinced myself that it was the radiator emitting the wretched hissing sounds the other night and not, in fact, a monster waiting to pounce. Perhaps both are monsters and I'm living on borrowed time, as they say (whoever 'they' are).
In addition to the aforementioned classes, I am also taking French and Apostolic Fathers, which will be the study of the origins of Christianity, what the earliest theologies were like based on the writings directly preceding and following the New Testament. Pardon my French, but I do think I will be a little les miserables than I was last semester. At the start of the second semester, I do not have the overwhelmingly anxious feelings I had at the start of last. I do not sweat profusely at the beginning of each class (the weather is helping with that). I do not have the persistent feeling that I have fooled everyone and that any moment now, they all are going to realize that in fact I do not belong here. This is progress.
I am excited at the prospect of being more wholistic this semester. What I mean by this is a better incorporation of my spiritual life into my studies. Last semester, I felt that the two were very disjointed, and often the intellectual growth would thrive but the spiritual life would be stagnant. This should not be. In all my learning, I don't want to miss God. Please pray for me to that end.
ΑΤΕΝΙΣΑΣ ΔΕ Ο ΠΑΥΛΟΣ ΤΩ ΣΥΝΕΔΡΙΩ ΕΙΠΕΝ
and told us that we were going to site read: "Mr. Lashier, would you like to start?" Have I mentioned that I have not studied Greek in over two years and that I never learned the capital letters of Greek in the first place? I quickly shot the girl sitting next to me a look that was somewhere in between hatred and panic. After all, she was the one who convinced me to take the class, assuring me that we wouldn't really get into the material for two weeks (she had the same prof last semester), which would allow me plenty of time to retrieve the Greek that I'm sure is somewhere in the cobwebs of my brain. No such luck. But in the words of Judy Garland, I muddled through somehow, or at least I have convinced myself I did, in the same way that I have convinced myself that it was the radiator emitting the wretched hissing sounds the other night and not, in fact, a monster waiting to pounce. Perhaps both are monsters and I'm living on borrowed time, as they say (whoever 'they' are).
In addition to the aforementioned classes, I am also taking French and Apostolic Fathers, which will be the study of the origins of Christianity, what the earliest theologies were like based on the writings directly preceding and following the New Testament. Pardon my French, but I do think I will be a little les miserables than I was last semester. At the start of the second semester, I do not have the overwhelmingly anxious feelings I had at the start of last. I do not sweat profusely at the beginning of each class (the weather is helping with that). I do not have the persistent feeling that I have fooled everyone and that any moment now, they all are going to realize that in fact I do not belong here. This is progress.
I am excited at the prospect of being more wholistic this semester. What I mean by this is a better incorporation of my spiritual life into my studies. Last semester, I felt that the two were very disjointed, and often the intellectual growth would thrive but the spiritual life would be stagnant. This should not be. In all my learning, I don't want to miss God. Please pray for me to that end.
Friday, September 22, 2006
On Romance Languages and the Romantic Idiot
Today I experienced my first official "moment of crisis" in the PhD program. Don't get me wrong, I've had plenty of moments filled with self doubt and self loathing, not to mention a number of cold sweats - not to be confused with cold sweets, which for my money does not get any better than Hostess - but today is the first time I experienced, as it were, the teeth of the PhD program, what I'm up against, the proverbial wall. Check that, I realized today I might not know enough to even hit the wall. I'm somewhere outside the city with a piecer car, the wrong map, and a broken compass. Or if you like sports metaphors: I'm in the Hell Bunker at St. Andrew's and all I have is a putter. Or entertainment: I got nothing.
In my Eastern Fathers class, I was assigned to introduce and lead discussion on the figure Jacob of Serug. This assignment involves providing a lengthy abstract of the figure's biography, theology, other works, and recent scholarship concerning him. I actually had a choice between he and two other figures and I picked the former simply because he had an English sounding name (as opposed to Severus and Philoxenus). Oh the bitter irony for as I began my research, I quickly realized that there was nothing English about Jacob of Serug or the scholarship surrounding him.
The first book I located was written in some sort of obscure Syriac. I believe it was a work by Jacob himself, but truth be told I didn't know enough to tell. The footnotes appeared to be french, but I am basing that feeble assumption on what I thought looked like a "we." The second book I located looked a little more familiar. At least, with all the hichs and sclichts, I was able to identify it as German, not that that did much for me. I did manage to find an English book, but of course it is checked out until December. Because apparently Jacob of Serug is slotted for Oprah's bookclub later this month. (Word on the street, however, is that he fabricated parts of his memoir. He didn't really fall off that camel.)
So unless there is a book on Jacob written in Iowan via Kentuckian via Wisconsian English or Koine Greek on the level of 1 John or Latin in the present tense only (minus the genetive case), I'm pretty much sunk. I did, however, manage to find quite a bit of helpful material on both Severus and Philoxenus.
That Oprah sure knows how to pick um . . .
In my Eastern Fathers class, I was assigned to introduce and lead discussion on the figure Jacob of Serug. This assignment involves providing a lengthy abstract of the figure's biography, theology, other works, and recent scholarship concerning him. I actually had a choice between he and two other figures and I picked the former simply because he had an English sounding name (as opposed to Severus and Philoxenus). Oh the bitter irony for as I began my research, I quickly realized that there was nothing English about Jacob of Serug or the scholarship surrounding him.
The first book I located was written in some sort of obscure Syriac. I believe it was a work by Jacob himself, but truth be told I didn't know enough to tell. The footnotes appeared to be french, but I am basing that feeble assumption on what I thought looked like a "we." The second book I located looked a little more familiar. At least, with all the hichs and sclichts, I was able to identify it as German, not that that did much for me. I did manage to find an English book, but of course it is checked out until December. Because apparently Jacob of Serug is slotted for Oprah's bookclub later this month. (Word on the street, however, is that he fabricated parts of his memoir. He didn't really fall off that camel.)
So unless there is a book on Jacob written in Iowan via Kentuckian via Wisconsian English or Koine Greek on the level of 1 John or Latin in the present tense only (minus the genetive case), I'm pretty much sunk. I did, however, manage to find quite a bit of helpful material on both Severus and Philoxenus.
That Oprah sure knows how to pick um . . .
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
A Placid Sea of Contradictions
For the first time today, I was struck by the odd situation in which I find myself. It is clear that I am in a scholarly setting, replete with world class thinkers who regularly wax eloquent about topics ranging from what Paul meant by the de in a single verse of Romans to what Arius ate for breakfast on the morning of his condemnation to what Rahner was thinking at Vatican II. I have a professor who regularly slips in and out of foreign languages and I'm not sure he knows he's doing it. Just today I walked out of a class dizzied by the amount of information that had just been poured into me, wondering if I would ever be able to assimilate it all, but thanking God that I am in such an environment that allows me the opportunity. And then I am passed by a kid in a Hollister shirt with an upside down Abercrombie visor, and an Ipod turned up so loud I can hear every word to "Funky Cold Medina."
Surrounding this hallowed center of academia is your typical college campus. You have your philosophers sitting on the steps, your pseudo hippy strumming a guitar, your smokers around the back, girls dressed to the nines next to girls who just rolled out of bed, dudes playing frisbee to impress them all, the activist who's giving everyone an earfull, the ROTC candidates in Desert Storm Camouflage, the guy handing out fliers to the volleyball game to which no one will go, and on and on and on. I mean, its like I'm watching an episode of Dawson's Creek Season Five. I swear I heard "Semi Charmed Kind of Life" playing in the background.
As contradictory as it may seem, the setting just feels right. It is good to be back on a college campus again. Because despite all the ridiculousness, learning does happen, minds are shaped and lives are transformed. Though I'm often reminded that I didn't attend one of those "one-word" schools (Duke, Harvard, Princeton) and I frequently get double takes when I say I graduated from Iowa State University, I'm thankful for the experience - it profoundly shaped me. It took me from a frightened boy to a young man ready to impact the world, or at least my small part of it. Following that were four incredible years at Asbury Theological Seminary, another gem that doesn't get much recognition. It wouldn't be too much to say that I saw God there, even if it was just glimpses. And I certainly saw an authentic display of the People of God. Somehow I suspect that Marquette will be the perfect blend of both. And who knows? I might see God even in the kid in the Hollister shirt.
Will Tone Loc ever die?
Surrounding this hallowed center of academia is your typical college campus. You have your philosophers sitting on the steps, your pseudo hippy strumming a guitar, your smokers around the back, girls dressed to the nines next to girls who just rolled out of bed, dudes playing frisbee to impress them all, the activist who's giving everyone an earfull, the ROTC candidates in Desert Storm Camouflage, the guy handing out fliers to the volleyball game to which no one will go, and on and on and on. I mean, its like I'm watching an episode of Dawson's Creek Season Five. I swear I heard "Semi Charmed Kind of Life" playing in the background.
As contradictory as it may seem, the setting just feels right. It is good to be back on a college campus again. Because despite all the ridiculousness, learning does happen, minds are shaped and lives are transformed. Though I'm often reminded that I didn't attend one of those "one-word" schools (Duke, Harvard, Princeton) and I frequently get double takes when I say I graduated from Iowa State University, I'm thankful for the experience - it profoundly shaped me. It took me from a frightened boy to a young man ready to impact the world, or at least my small part of it. Following that were four incredible years at Asbury Theological Seminary, another gem that doesn't get much recognition. It wouldn't be too much to say that I saw God there, even if it was just glimpses. And I certainly saw an authentic display of the People of God. Somehow I suspect that Marquette will be the perfect blend of both. And who knows? I might see God even in the kid in the Hollister shirt.
Will Tone Loc ever die?
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