I was looking again at the news article about the school bus accident in Missouri. I drove a bus there for about a decade, and the location is very familiar to me. The accident took place at the bottom of a long, sweeping curve on I-44. Even an old yellow sloth (my busses were all Nixon-era Fords) could get up a respectable 65 mph, and there was nothing in particular in front of us. It's summer, and the kids are in high spirits, on the way to Six Flags. It feels good to just let the sloth roll.
It's one of those wrecks that shouldn't have happened, and it wasn't really the fault of the 19-year-old kid who rear-ended the truck. The bus driver had no excuse. I know how well I could see, even in those old busses.
It's a bitter reminder of the life-or-death nature of just going somewhere for some fun. This afternoon I drive to Columbus. I think I'll take it a bit easier and watch the traffic a bit better.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Punishment
Ever wonder how colleges punish professors who don't toe the line? I got an e-mail from Ashland University warning us not to sign overload forms for our classes. Here's the threat:
Seriously overenrolling sections can result in penalties such as assigning you to teach 8:00 am sections at MedCentral for their winter and spring quarters."Seriously overenrolling" means one student over the limit—though I wonder who gets punished when the department chair manages to squeeze a couple of extras into my class at the last minute without asking me.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Can't Generalize
I'm teaching at NCSC this summer, and as usual I've forgotten just how concrete-minded my students there are.
They have a paper coming up, and they asked how to write it. One guy was perplexed because the minimum length is five pages and that seems like a lot for a five-paragraph essay. They asked what they should do with the assignment, so I said something like, "Well, if I were doing this, I might choose William Faulkner's 'Barn Burning,' and do thus and such." The obvious question: "So we have to write about 'Barn Burning'?"
They have a paper coming up, and they asked how to write it. One guy was perplexed because the minimum length is five pages and that seems like a lot for a five-paragraph essay. They asked what they should do with the assignment, so I said something like, "Well, if I were doing this, I might choose William Faulkner's 'Barn Burning,' and do thus and such." The obvious question: "So we have to write about 'Barn Burning'?"
Chinese AGAIN?
If you are one of my friends and your server has a Chinese-language address, I apologize. The post comments in pure Chinese have stopped; now I get an English-language comment that doesn't appear to relate to the post, an executable file, and a Chinese-language address. Those all get deleted without being opened.
So if you're trying to send me something cute from China, write to my usual e-mail address and tell me that you're doing it.
So if you're trying to send me something cute from China, write to my usual e-mail address and tell me that you're doing it.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Struggling to Recycle
I'm in the middle of a household cleanup campaign. So now I have a working (but not wanted) Hoover vacuum cleaner, two saucers, a cup, and a sifter in the back of my car. I tried to drop them off at Salvation Army, but they don't have bins any more and the entrance was chained (at 2:30 p.m.). I wonder if they take things like that any more. Goodwill is apparently still in business, though not where I thought it was. So I drive around town with these things in the back.
Bottles? Cans?
Recycling is one of those liberal political ideas that's designed to limit the freedom of patriotic Americans, so I've never been surprised that it's nearly impossible in Mansfield. Yes, there are bins in small villages and yes, there's a trailer that makes brief stops at random locations, but the whole idea is to simply fulfill the letter of the law, not to make recycling easy. The general public hasn't got the idea, though. Every time I go to the trailer in Butler, it's stuffed to overflowing.No riches in trash
Years ago, someone figured out that glass, even though it's easily recyclable, isn't a source of great numbers of dollars, so we can't recycle it here. Never mind that we do have to spend public money to bury the stuff somewhere. The terrible national government, though, got irritated at us for burying fluorescent tubes (which contain a lot of mercury), so just to shut the EPA up, we now collect those tubes. And charge people a buck each to drop them off. What an incentive to keep from throwing them in the dumpster!Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Not Apple
I tried to play a movie at NCSC this morning. Last Monday I made the mistake of trying a YouTube movie (extremely slow download), so I thought I'd be smart and take the movie in on a flash drive.
Oops. Downloaded and saved it as an MP4 movie. That doesn't work on Windows because MP4 is too new for them. (It's been out since 2003.) Nothing in Windows can play that format. Should have used the older format from 1997 (MP3).
People keep wondering why I'm such an Apple fan. At least I have the machine that can play things from this century.
Oops. Downloaded and saved it as an MP4 movie. That doesn't work on Windows because MP4 is too new for them. (It's been out since 2003.) Nothing in Windows can play that format. Should have used the older format from 1997 (MP3).
People keep wondering why I'm such an Apple fan. At least I have the machine that can play things from this century.
I feel loved and wanted
I wish I could read Chinese. Nearly every day now, someone comments (in Chinese) on one of these posts. Thank you China. What are you saying?
Monday, June 28, 2010
More glasses news
Tried to go back for my "computer glasses" today. The computer system at LensCrafters was having a bad day. Apparently my name screws up the system, and it crashed three or four times before someone who could tame it came to work. Windows 2000. Need I say more?
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Trifocals
For years, I've resisted my eye doctor's advice to go for bifocals. Then about three years ago, I caved in and got separate reading glasses. They always seemed a pain, though, and I could always function quite well without them, so they sat in my desk drawer for quite some time. Then, just before my eye exam last week, I got them out for a trial run. They were terrible! Couldn't see a thing through them.
The eye doctor thought something was suspicious, so he did a bit of snooping and discovered that I'd stumbled on a very old pair of distance glasses. Oops. Back to the desk drawer to find the proper reading glasses. They aren't too bad after all.
But my main problem is computer screens, so now he's making me a third set (well, fourth, if you count the sun glasses) for middle distance. So I guess, if I can find my glasses, I've now got trifocals.
The eye doctor thought something was suspicious, so he did a bit of snooping and discovered that I'd stumbled on a very old pair of distance glasses. Oops. Back to the desk drawer to find the proper reading glasses. They aren't too bad after all.
But my main problem is computer screens, so now he's making me a third set (well, fourth, if you count the sun glasses) for middle distance. So I guess, if I can find my glasses, I've now got trifocals.
Friday, June 25, 2010
My morning ritual
Every day I begin with comic strips at the computer. One of my favorite sources is comics.com, and I guess I should expect that my daily fix is paid for by advertisements. Because I'm eating cereal, I haven't had the nerve yet to click the ad for "Overactive Bladder Videos." (What would they put in such a video? People running to the loo? Graphic depictions of what's happening?)
Anyhow, MSN has a banner ad for their service, complete with their slogan, "Know now." That one would be lost on my students. They can't tell the difference between know, now, and no. I guess I can see some of that. The "k" hasn't been pronounced for hundreds of years. In Old English, the word for "know" was cnawan, so our spelling does make sense. Sort of. And "no" comes from the Old English nay. (Just to be complete, "now" comes from the Old English new.) My students see the three words as completely interchangeable. That stuns me. Yes, I understand that know and no sound the same today, so the sentence "I know no Englishmen" would sound like it has a repeated word in the beginning. But who pronounces now that way, especially in Ohio? Who would pronounce words two, three, and four alike: "I now know no Englishmen." It's bizarre.
Anyhow, MSN has a banner ad for their service, complete with their slogan, "Know now." That one would be lost on my students. They can't tell the difference between know, now, and no. I guess I can see some of that. The "k" hasn't been pronounced for hundreds of years. In Old English, the word for "know" was cnawan, so our spelling does make sense. Sort of. And "no" comes from the Old English nay. (Just to be complete, "now" comes from the Old English new.) My students see the three words as completely interchangeable. That stuns me. Yes, I understand that know and no sound the same today, so the sentence "I know no Englishmen" would sound like it has a repeated word in the beginning. But who pronounces now that way, especially in Ohio? Who would pronounce words two, three, and four alike: "I now know no Englishmen." It's bizarre.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Of course it's going to rain
Today is Wednesday. We did have an incredibly hard rainstorm last Saturday, and every day since then the online weather report has been predicting doom. Heavy, severe thunderstorms dumping more than two inches of rain in an hour have been predicted every day. And every day has come and gone, beautifully clear. Well, a couple of days have been cloudy. And every day I've stayed in, knowing that I don't want to get trapped on the bike trail or elsewhere in a severe thunderstorm. Today there's a bit of a drizzle, so I guess they're vindicated. Now the weather map shows five days of clear weather, so I guess I should find my umbrella.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Me and Nintendo
It's kind of funny trying to play a game with a teenager. Maybe it's just a boy thing, but they always seem to assume that everyone on earth—certainly including me—was born knowing all of the details and strategy of their favorite game. It's just part of being a human, right?
Years ago, Chris tried to teach me how to play a Lord of the Rings card game. He took at least an hour to explain in minute detail the contents of all the dozens of different cards, but refused to answer my one burning question: What am I trying to do here? As I remember it, there were glass rocks that we were trying to accumulate or something, but I never did figure out how a person actually wins.
Then there was Jon. We'd play Nintendo 64 games, usually shoot-em-up things. He always denied that he'd tweaked the controls, but I could shoot him a dozen times in the middle of the chest and his health would only go down a little, but if he fired one shot anywhere in a room I occupied, I would die instantly. I always considered it a victory if I could get his health to go down below 90% before I'd die.
Now Jared and the GameCube. We pretty much stopped playing Lego Star Wars because I can't keep track of which character I'm supposed to control when they all look alike and they have to change 50 or 60 times a minute to optimize their weapons and strategies. And that game ties the characters together so that the leader (Jared) loses a battle if I can't keep up with him. So we had a long hiatus in game playing. This summer, though, we've been playing Tales of Symphonia. It's a pretty bizarre game with a mythology that's distilled from just about every culture I've ever heard of. There's Christian, Norse, and Buddhist, plus a lot of others. It's a frustrating game, though, because my character can only do about one thing, and usually isn't onscreen at all to do it. So I'm usually just kind of punching the big green button, hoping that helps.
This evening, I'm cheating, though. Jared isn't here, and I dug up an online description of what those buttons actually DO. Apparently I really can control my character and get him to do stuff. I can even defend myself so I don't instantly die every time a bad guy shows up. Of course, you knew that the X button defends your character against attacks. Jared knew it. I'm sure Jon and Chris know it. Maybe my mother knows it. I'm the last guy on the planet who didn't know it, but fortunately someone wrote it down and posted it online. Now I know it too.
Years ago, Chris tried to teach me how to play a Lord of the Rings card game. He took at least an hour to explain in minute detail the contents of all the dozens of different cards, but refused to answer my one burning question: What am I trying to do here? As I remember it, there were glass rocks that we were trying to accumulate or something, but I never did figure out how a person actually wins.
Then there was Jon. We'd play Nintendo 64 games, usually shoot-em-up things. He always denied that he'd tweaked the controls, but I could shoot him a dozen times in the middle of the chest and his health would only go down a little, but if he fired one shot anywhere in a room I occupied, I would die instantly. I always considered it a victory if I could get his health to go down below 90% before I'd die.
Now Jared and the GameCube. We pretty much stopped playing Lego Star Wars because I can't keep track of which character I'm supposed to control when they all look alike and they have to change 50 or 60 times a minute to optimize their weapons and strategies. And that game ties the characters together so that the leader (Jared) loses a battle if I can't keep up with him. So we had a long hiatus in game playing. This summer, though, we've been playing Tales of Symphonia. It's a pretty bizarre game with a mythology that's distilled from just about every culture I've ever heard of. There's Christian, Norse, and Buddhist, plus a lot of others. It's a frustrating game, though, because my character can only do about one thing, and usually isn't onscreen at all to do it. So I'm usually just kind of punching the big green button, hoping that helps.
This evening, I'm cheating, though. Jared isn't here, and I dug up an online description of what those buttons actually DO. Apparently I really can control my character and get him to do stuff. I can even defend myself so I don't instantly die every time a bad guy shows up. Of course, you knew that the X button defends your character against attacks. Jared knew it. I'm sure Jon and Chris know it. Maybe my mother knows it. I'm the last guy on the planet who didn't know it, but fortunately someone wrote it down and posted it online. Now I know it too.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Curt's Culinary Disasters
The small group idea is evolving. My apartment is so small that five or six is about the limit. My downstairs neighbor (in a slightly smaller apartment!) has half a dozen or more people over more than once a week. Why not me?
Anyhow, I needed a theme and the title of this post came to mind. Most of Mansfield is incredibly conservative about food. Burgers, fries, pizza, and steak—and we've exhausted the entertaining menu possibilities. But some of the best food is incredibly unlikely sounding. How about pan-fried steak with an espresso coffee rub? Speaking of fried, Welsh pan-fried cakes with currants. Cornish meat pies with rutabaga. The key drawing card could be "what on earth can he come up with NEXT?"
Anyhow, I needed a theme and the title of this post came to mind. Most of Mansfield is incredibly conservative about food. Burgers, fries, pizza, and steak—and we've exhausted the entertaining menu possibilities. But some of the best food is incredibly unlikely sounding. How about pan-fried steak with an espresso coffee rub? Speaking of fried, Welsh pan-fried cakes with currants. Cornish meat pies with rutabaga. The key drawing card could be "what on earth can he come up with NEXT?"
Friday, June 4, 2010
Did it again
I can't claim total responsibility for this one. Yet again the church has sent out a really complete questionnaire and I responded with a LONG answer. Then I added a page. Then I write a two-page letter to the elders. Well it's their fault. They asked for my opinion.
I guess I'm ultimately very passive about church stuff. I assume that everyone else is going to start something and I'll join in. That really goes against my personal philosophy—at least what I say about it.
OK. So what would I like to see and by when? (Music from The Man of LaMancha: "To Dream the Impossible Dream" fades in). How about, for starters, a small group?
I guess I'm ultimately very passive about church stuff. I assume that everyone else is going to start something and I'll join in. That really goes against my personal philosophy—at least what I say about it.
OK. So what would I like to see and by when? (Music from The Man of LaMancha: "To Dream the Impossible Dream" fades in). How about, for starters, a small group?
- Not necessarily a therapy group and certainly not meeting to flog the latest pop psychology or political fad.
- Fun, food.
- Interesting and thoughtful
- Accepting, even if you're liberal, intellectual, gay, or unmarried (demogrpahics that haven't done too well in this church)
- Maybe even interested in doing stuff outside the meeting times and (gasp!) becoming friends
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Me and kitchen wrap products
I've already documented my battle with Glad Cling Wrap, the product that's so unlikely to cling to itself or to anything else that the only to keep it from falling off is to use masking tape.
I have a new nemesis: Ziplock Smart Seal. It claims to offer "you edge-to-edge protection against harmful air." Maybe so, but it's definitely not able to keep liquids in. Today's experiment was a chicken marinade. Fortunately, my disaster was over the sink. One thing you do NOT want to do with these bags is to turn it over when it's full of something wet—liquids run right out, mainly at the corners.
Now the question of the day: if these products simply don't work, why do people keep buying them?
I have a new nemesis: Ziplock Smart Seal. It claims to offer "you edge-to-edge protection against harmful air." Maybe so, but it's definitely not able to keep liquids in. Today's experiment was a chicken marinade. Fortunately, my disaster was over the sink. One thing you do NOT want to do with these bags is to turn it over when it's full of something wet—liquids run right out, mainly at the corners.
Now the question of the day: if these products simply don't work, why do people keep buying them?
Monday, May 24, 2010
Engrish, Chinglish
I used to be a great fan of websites such as engrish.com and engrish funny, but I don't know any more. At Ashland University I usually have half a dozen or so Chinese students who actually write that way, and it gets to be painful after a while.
I used Yahoo's Babelfish to translate the deep philosophical text "I am a little teapot, short and stout" into Chinese, then back to English. I got "I am the small teapot, short and the fierce black beer." That's about how my students' essays look.
I used Yahoo's Babelfish to translate the deep philosophical text "I am a little teapot, short and stout" into Chinese, then back to English. I got "I am the small teapot, short and the fierce black beer." That's about how my students' essays look.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Up To Date
Nearly two weeks since my last post here. I've been:
- Feverishly getting ready for the fall semester. It's a kind of coping mechanism. When I'm frustrated that the previous semester was dismal, I vow that the next will certainly be better, and I do everything in my power to make it so. Besides, I am (as usual) over-committed for the coming year, and anything that I can get done in advance will make my life easier.
- Getting back into physical fitness. It's been a long time, because of feeling sick and being busy with work. Still difficult, but I'm enjoying the gym time. Yesterday was my first bike ride (12 miles).
- Spending time with Jared. It's actually funny because I'll assume he meant what he said when he told me we wouldn't see each other for a while, then the phone rings and he absolutely needs some "air time" away from his home.
- Trying to get back into a pattern of daily Bible reading and prayer. I feel a bit like a recovering alcoholic: "Made it another day." I'm using a website called Sacred Space, created by (of all people) a community of Irish Jesuits.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Blogmaster
I've now officially got seven "live" blogs, plus about five dormant ones.
- This one, of course
- A blog for the writers' circle at the church
- A blog for my Akron students
- A rough-draft blog for the Akron postings (so I can hide things until the opportune moment)
- A blog for the Ashland students
- A combination rough-draft and complaining Ashland blog
- An NCSC blog that will turn into the main online resource for my literature classes
I get fascinated with the look of things and messing around with colors and fonts. The old desktop publisher in me, I guess. Messing about and tweaking is a great way to waste time. The Akron site has gone through about six completely different color schemes, and it's only about a month old.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Beginning and Ending
I'm now officially done with the University of Akron, at least until the end of August. About 30 papers and I'll be done with Ashland as well. (I'll probably hide in my little office on Monday and take care of those.)
It's a bit sad, really. Just about the time Akron has awakened from winter and the weather is getting fine, I leave. I'm sitting here in Angel Falls Coffee and the guys are setting up for a poetry reading. (The audio feedback is mighty strong.) I'll get back to Mansfield too late for First Friday, so I guess "culture" for a while will consist of doing my laundry and getting some apartment cleaning done.
Ah Mansfield. We really don't have a "neighborhood" anywhere. The Carrousel District comes close, but it always seems on the verge of collapsing. I did have a mighty fine strawberry smoothie at a place next to the License Bureau, while the martini bar was starting their wood-fired pizza oven. But it was early in the day and my underage companion wouldn't have found a home over there.
It's a bit sad, really. Just about the time Akron has awakened from winter and the weather is getting fine, I leave. I'm sitting here in Angel Falls Coffee and the guys are setting up for a poetry reading. (The audio feedback is mighty strong.) I'll get back to Mansfield too late for First Friday, so I guess "culture" for a while will consist of doing my laundry and getting some apartment cleaning done.
Ah Mansfield. We really don't have a "neighborhood" anywhere. The Carrousel District comes close, but it always seems on the verge of collapsing. I did have a mighty fine strawberry smoothie at a place next to the License Bureau, while the martini bar was starting their wood-fired pizza oven. But it was early in the day and my underage companion wouldn't have found a home over there.
Monday, May 3, 2010
T9
About six times in the last week someone has said that I just need to use my phone in T9. It's one of those obvious statements, on the same level as "You just make a left turn at the road where Murphy's dog got killed six years ago." Some of us didn't even know Murphy had a dog.
Any how, I've noticed that the people who said this T9 gibberish were all (a) under 20 years old and (b) had cell phones implanted in their faces. A mere half hour of messing around (my mind is bit burned out from grading) reveals that T9 is a way to get a cell phone to text ordinary things that people always say. It takes a good deal of getting used to. After a quarter of an hour, I could get it to say, "Meeting is done. I'll be home at o." On the win side, I even got the apostrophe—no mean trick. It's like making a souffle work. On the lose side, it says "I'll be home at o" because there's no obvious way to get a number. I wanted a 6. I tried to say "I'll get pizza at Claire's" (a local pizza shop). That won't work. It's got to be Blaire's. Yes, I know I could find the "mode" key, scroll down through the options to get a numbers option, click that, then put in the 6, then change the mode again. That sure is a lot of trouble.
One positive thing, though, is that T9 doesn't know IM abbreviations. I tried "I luv u 2." I got "I juv t a," which isn't much by way of affection or communication.
People laugh at the way I use my cell phone. Jared's has 62 buttons. Mine has 19, including one or two that I've never used. When mine rings, I open it and talk. When Jared's rings, opening it screws things up; you're supposed to keep it closed and find the right button to push. I open my phone, push a two-key speed-dial combination and talk to people. It takes less than ten seconds to do. Just starting a text message to someone on my list (even before all the T9 confusion begins) requires thirteen keystrokes (including a couple that are anything but obvious). I don't have the nerve to try text-messaging someone from just a phone number.
Maybe I'm showing my age. To the kids, this is as obvious as a double-clutching downshift as you enter a spiraled off-camber mountain curve (remember that little counter-flick of the steering wheel to flip the rear end out). Something everyone was born knowing how to do.
Any how, I've noticed that the people who said this T9 gibberish were all (a) under 20 years old and (b) had cell phones implanted in their faces. A mere half hour of messing around (my mind is bit burned out from grading) reveals that T9 is a way to get a cell phone to text ordinary things that people always say. It takes a good deal of getting used to. After a quarter of an hour, I could get it to say, "Meeting is done. I'll be home at o." On the win side, I even got the apostrophe—no mean trick. It's like making a souffle work. On the lose side, it says "I'll be home at o" because there's no obvious way to get a number. I wanted a 6. I tried to say "I'll get pizza at Claire's" (a local pizza shop). That won't work. It's got to be Blaire's. Yes, I know I could find the "mode" key, scroll down through the options to get a numbers option, click that, then put in the 6, then change the mode again. That sure is a lot of trouble.
One positive thing, though, is that T9 doesn't know IM abbreviations. I tried "I luv u 2." I got "I juv t a," which isn't much by way of affection or communication.
People laugh at the way I use my cell phone. Jared's has 62 buttons. Mine has 19, including one or two that I've never used. When mine rings, I open it and talk. When Jared's rings, opening it screws things up; you're supposed to keep it closed and find the right button to push. I open my phone, push a two-key speed-dial combination and talk to people. It takes less than ten seconds to do. Just starting a text message to someone on my list (even before all the T9 confusion begins) requires thirteen keystrokes (including a couple that are anything but obvious). I don't have the nerve to try text-messaging someone from just a phone number.
Maybe I'm showing my age. To the kids, this is as obvious as a double-clutching downshift as you enter a spiraled off-camber mountain curve (remember that little counter-flick of the steering wheel to flip the rear end out). Something everyone was born knowing how to do.
Nearly dead
I've nearly killed this blog because I haven't been posting here. I wonder if any of you are still out there.
The usual. End of semester, lots of reading. I often retreat into myself during this process and deal with my frustration (Why aren't these students any better?) by devising elaborate plans for the future semesters.
Summer's coming. One more week (and it won't really be a bad one either) and I'll be much more relaxed.
The usual. End of semester, lots of reading. I often retreat into myself during this process and deal with my frustration (Why aren't these students any better?) by devising elaborate plans for the future semesters.
Summer's coming. One more week (and it won't really be a bad one either) and I'll be much more relaxed.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
unChristian: Finished
Well I finished the book. Sort of. I got through all the analytic chapters, but didn't read the final "here's how to fix it" chapter. And I don't think I will, either.
For one thing, most of the material in the book is stuff I already believed. I didn't know just how ineffective mass evangelism is, and I thought I was the only one who finds church a poor place to satisfy spiritual longings or answer spiritual questions, but in general unChristian just confirmed a lot of the material I already was thinking.
So why won't I read the chapter about fixing everything? It seems pointless. Honestly. I'm one guy, totally outside the power structure, and with no prospect of actually getting anything done. When I teach my classes, I try to portray Christianity in a positive light, but on the church level I'm a nobody.
Jared and I were talking the other day about how to set things right if we were in charge of the church. It was a little sad. We knew that even on the most minor level—getting a more frequent church dinner schedule or finding a way for younger people to begin learning leadership skills—we're totally powerless. So if I want a church that does things better, the answer is to move to a different one.
For one thing, most of the material in the book is stuff I already believed. I didn't know just how ineffective mass evangelism is, and I thought I was the only one who finds church a poor place to satisfy spiritual longings or answer spiritual questions, but in general unChristian just confirmed a lot of the material I already was thinking.
So why won't I read the chapter about fixing everything? It seems pointless. Honestly. I'm one guy, totally outside the power structure, and with no prospect of actually getting anything done. When I teach my classes, I try to portray Christianity in a positive light, but on the church level I'm a nobody.
Jared and I were talking the other day about how to set things right if we were in charge of the church. It was a little sad. We knew that even on the most minor level—getting a more frequent church dinner schedule or finding a way for younger people to begin learning leadership skills—we're totally powerless. So if I want a church that does things better, the answer is to move to a different one.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Apple vs. PC
In the past, we Apple folk have heaped scorn and derision on PC and his followers. I think this is wrong. PC users deserve our pity, not our scorn.
Over the past couple of days, I've had to use a couple of different PCs, and it's a different world.
And the uncooperative formatting helps too. Formerly, any academic paper formatted pretty much like any other academic paper, no matter what software made it. By locking in an idiosyncratic appearance and making it well-nigh impossible to do anything different, they now have a trademark appearance. People look at a student paper and say, "That was made with Word." It's the same reason a Freightliner schoolbus nose looks different from a Navstar. Each instance is a rolling advertisement.
Over the past couple of days, I've had to use a couple of different PCs, and it's a different world.
- Booting up a PC at Ashland and opening Firefox so I can display a PowerPoint show takes more than ten minutes. If I walk into the classroom later than 15 minutes early, I simply don't have time for PC and should set up the Apple (including plugging in all the cables) instead.
- My office PC at Akron got a new printer—it's a printer I share with the rest of the department. But I couldn't find it. No problem. All I have to do, said my office manager, is follow this handy set-up sheet. But none of the screenshots on the setup sheet match things my PC shows.
- OK. Now that the printer is set up, all I want to do is print out four short Word documents from a flash drive. Silly me. I didn't realize that I shouldn't open one, then close it, then open the next. That means that every time I close a document, I'll have to restart Microsoft Word for the next one.
- And of course, to the amusement of my Ashland students, I played the "where the Hell did they put that?" game with Word the other day.
And the uncooperative formatting helps too. Formerly, any academic paper formatted pretty much like any other academic paper, no matter what software made it. By locking in an idiosyncratic appearance and making it well-nigh impossible to do anything different, they now have a trademark appearance. People look at a student paper and say, "That was made with Word." It's the same reason a Freightliner schoolbus nose looks different from a Navstar. Each instance is a rolling advertisement.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Losing Jerry
I heard from a friend that our pastor, Jerry, will be leaving us at the end of the summer. I guess it's to be expected. The average Protestant pastor moves about once every three years (which is odd, considering that another bit of research shows that the average pastor doesn't hit maximum effectiveness until he's been in a place for five years). Anyhow, Jerry's been here something like ten, so I guess it's about time.
I'll miss him, though.
I wish we could have become friends. He seems like exactly the sort of person I'd really like for a friend: intelligent, interesting, fun, and not likely to let me get by with stupidity or laziness.
It's interesting to consider the relationship between pastors and parishioners. In the Roman Catholic church, they have a doctrine that essentially sets up a division. Clergy and laity are different sorts of creatures, and yet their priests often have close, cordial friendships with the people in their churches. It's not unusual for a Catholic priest to be a dinner guest, with cigars and beer afterward. They wear special clothing and have special titles, yet the people often feel very close to them. Protestant ministers, on the other hand, are (by theology) just the same as the rest of the folks. Yet we usually set up a very strong division between us. It's standard wisdom that a pastor shouldn't find his friends in the congregation. Ministers are usually accorded a higher level of awe and respect than Catholics give to their priests. You can't swear near a pastor. You shouldn't bother him with small stuff. A minister playing on a softball team is sort of a conflict of images.
More than once over the last decade I thought it would be great to have lunch with Jerry. But no, I didn't have any big issues to discuss. I just wanted lunch with a friend. It didn't happen because nothing I wanted to say was very official. I didn't want counseling, nor did I want to debate church politics. Thinking back, it all makes me very sad. I probably should have said, "to Hell with the rules—let's have a hamburger."
I'll be OK. I've got people to have lunch with—Jared and Kay and John and others. I wonder if Jerry has someone aside from elders to lunch with. I wonder if they can just shoot the breeze.
Back in Maryland where I grew up, Presbyterian pastors always wore clerical collars, even to the grocery store. When I was in seminary, we joked that Dr. Rayburn probably mowed the lawn in a black suit. Ultimately, I guess that's the real problem. They can't remove the collar. It must feel like being gradually strangled.
I'll miss him, though.
I wish we could have become friends. He seems like exactly the sort of person I'd really like for a friend: intelligent, interesting, fun, and not likely to let me get by with stupidity or laziness.
It's interesting to consider the relationship between pastors and parishioners. In the Roman Catholic church, they have a doctrine that essentially sets up a division. Clergy and laity are different sorts of creatures, and yet their priests often have close, cordial friendships with the people in their churches. It's not unusual for a Catholic priest to be a dinner guest, with cigars and beer afterward. They wear special clothing and have special titles, yet the people often feel very close to them. Protestant ministers, on the other hand, are (by theology) just the same as the rest of the folks. Yet we usually set up a very strong division between us. It's standard wisdom that a pastor shouldn't find his friends in the congregation. Ministers are usually accorded a higher level of awe and respect than Catholics give to their priests. You can't swear near a pastor. You shouldn't bother him with small stuff. A minister playing on a softball team is sort of a conflict of images.
More than once over the last decade I thought it would be great to have lunch with Jerry. But no, I didn't have any big issues to discuss. I just wanted lunch with a friend. It didn't happen because nothing I wanted to say was very official. I didn't want counseling, nor did I want to debate church politics. Thinking back, it all makes me very sad. I probably should have said, "to Hell with the rules—let's have a hamburger."
I'll be OK. I've got people to have lunch with—Jared and Kay and John and others. I wonder if Jerry has someone aside from elders to lunch with. I wonder if they can just shoot the breeze.
Back in Maryland where I grew up, Presbyterian pastors always wore clerical collars, even to the grocery store. When I was in seminary, we joked that Dr. Rayburn probably mowed the lawn in a black suit. Ultimately, I guess that's the real problem. They can't remove the collar. It must feel like being gradually strangled.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Christian Dishonesty #1
I'm at home here, putting together PowerPoint slides for Sunday's worship service. Again I've run into one of the weirdnesses of modern grassroots church.
In 1779, John Newton wrote "Amazing Grace," a hymn that's become one of the most beloved in our language. It's got seven verses and is usually sung to the hymn tune "New Britain."
In 2001, Todd Agnew took three of those verses, published them to the same hymn tune, and added two words to the end of the first verse (which mess up the rhyme scheme) and a 17-word chorus with a new melody. Now it's a new song with his name at the top: "Grace Like Rain."
It seems unfair to Newton—at the very least. And Agnew isn't the only one to pull this trick.
In 1779, John Newton wrote "Amazing Grace," a hymn that's become one of the most beloved in our language. It's got seven verses and is usually sung to the hymn tune "New Britain."
In 2001, Todd Agnew took three of those verses, published them to the same hymn tune, and added two words to the end of the first verse (which mess up the rhyme scheme) and a 17-word chorus with a new melody. Now it's a new song with his name at the top: "Grace Like Rain."
It seems unfair to Newton—at the very least. And Agnew isn't the only one to pull this trick.
Quote Without Comment
From a student paper:
Freedom of speech, religion and consumerism are just some of the core values bestowed upon the American people.
As a country founded on the principles of bureaucracy and justice for every person...
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Wasting Time
A recent BBC News article, "Is Birdemic The Worst Movie Ever Made?" led me first, to the Birdemic web site, then got me to thinking, so I spent a hunk of time this glorious afternoon watching Plan 9 From Outer Space on YouTube. It's kind of wonderfully horrid. I had no idea. The continuity problems alone are enough to gag a maggot. (Is it night or day? Did the cops arrive in a car with flashing lights or an unmarked car?)
Anyhow, that was enough to postpone grading papers for a good while.
Anyhow, that was enough to postpone grading papers for a good while.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Slackers
An article in today's Washington Post discusses today's work ethic (and the lack of it among the younger generation). They interviewed a manager of a local pizza place, who complained that one worker is always using the Internet to place bets, another is always on the phone to his girlfriend, and another simply doesn't want to work. At a local Hertz car rental place, one new hire spent his time watching TV on his iPod, smiling and laughing while the customers tried to figure out what was going on.
Sounds a lot like my students.
Another characteristic the newspaper comments on was the new workers' assumption that they don't have to put in long, patient hours to build a career.
All of this reminds me of my students, but I don't think the fault is entirely theirs. We told them these things. We (older guys) didn't fail them when they decided not to submit the homework. We told them that all they need to do is occupy a chair in the classroom, and eventually we'll give them a great job (where they can continue to slack off). It links up to several other things I get grumpy about. Why aren't there any American products for sale? Nobody feels like doing the work to develop and make them. Why did Wall Street crash? (And why will it crash again quite soon?) People think that by simply shuffling money around, they can get rich. The Ponzi scheme was the most obvious, of course, but generally big banking is built on the idea that nobody has to actually work for wealth—we can get there by finding a cool loophole.
So I'm off for the weekend. When I return, I'll ask for the papers that are due (6 to 8 pages). Many of my students won't have them. They hope that somehow the paper fairy will put a paper under their pillows while they sleep. In another class, I'll watch my students dozing and dreaming while I attempt to conduct class. (I gave a quiz there the other day and one guy didn't even bother to submit a sheet full of guesses.)
The message from the coaches is clear: If you have big muscles and an abrasive attitude, you can get rich.
The message from adult culture is clear: If you find the right loophole, you don't have to actually do the work.
My mother asked me if I am a tough teacher. I'm getting tougher.
Sounds a lot like my students.
Another characteristic the newspaper comments on was the new workers' assumption that they don't have to put in long, patient hours to build a career.
All of this reminds me of my students, but I don't think the fault is entirely theirs. We told them these things. We (older guys) didn't fail them when they decided not to submit the homework. We told them that all they need to do is occupy a chair in the classroom, and eventually we'll give them a great job (where they can continue to slack off). It links up to several other things I get grumpy about. Why aren't there any American products for sale? Nobody feels like doing the work to develop and make them. Why did Wall Street crash? (And why will it crash again quite soon?) People think that by simply shuffling money around, they can get rich. The Ponzi scheme was the most obvious, of course, but generally big banking is built on the idea that nobody has to actually work for wealth—we can get there by finding a cool loophole.
So I'm off for the weekend. When I return, I'll ask for the papers that are due (6 to 8 pages). Many of my students won't have them. They hope that somehow the paper fairy will put a paper under their pillows while they sleep. In another class, I'll watch my students dozing and dreaming while I attempt to conduct class. (I gave a quiz there the other day and one guy didn't even bother to submit a sheet full of guesses.)
The message from the coaches is clear: If you have big muscles and an abrasive attitude, you can get rich.
The message from adult culture is clear: If you find the right loophole, you don't have to actually do the work.
My mother asked me if I am a tough teacher. I'm getting tougher.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Plus ça change
Snowing heavily now. One to three inches by morning.
Jared is back here to have a warm place to sleep.
Jared is back here to have a warm place to sleep.
Losing a Roomie
The first little period of having an 18-year-old roommate is nearly over. He's got next week off for Spring Break, and needs to get the house back in order for his parents' return from Brazil. Then, apparently, things will get very busy and he'll be finishing the school year, going to church camp, visiting Brazil, and generally being elsewhere for the entire summer. It sounds like I won't see much of him until September.
He got disgusted with me last night because I was feeling sentimental.
Well I did know this day was coming, and he is, after all, returning in the Fall, but I'll miss him very much. Yes, he's inconvenient. No, he's not a constant companion—often he retreats to his room to spend the evening on the phone and on instant messaging. Often, when I begin to share some priceless bit of wisdom, he reminds me that I've already said it twice in the last month. But I'll still miss him very much.
He got disgusted with me last night because I was feeling sentimental.
Well I did know this day was coming, and he is, after all, returning in the Fall, but I'll miss him very much. Yes, he's inconvenient. No, he's not a constant companion—often he retreats to his room to spend the evening on the phone and on instant messaging. Often, when I begin to share some priceless bit of wisdom, he reminds me that I've already said it twice in the last month. But I'll still miss him very much.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
I love Italian
Did up some pasta last night with very authentic tagliatelle. Here are the cooking instructions (and I'm being very careful to preserve the authentic spelling):
Councils for one good baking:(The French isn't a great deal better.)
To carry to boiling salt water (1 litre of water in 100 gr of pasta), therefore to pour and cook second the established times. Like this Laporta's pasta exspresses the maximum of the taste, of the goodness leaving unchanged all its characteristics.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
time for my favorite poem
some poems are seasonal)
i know this one is and i'm glad that the site has typed it in courier typeface, the way the author originally envisioned it
i love the way mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful work and the way eddieandbill are joined at the hip (and so are bettyandisbel
but most of all i love the way the old lame balloonman turns out to be Pan, whistling to all the little forest animals and inviting them to the first wild romp of the season.
i know this one is and i'm glad that the site has typed it in courier typeface, the way the author originally envisioned it
i love the way mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful work and the way eddieandbill are joined at the hip (and so are bettyandisbel
but most of all i love the way the old lame balloonman turns out to be Pan, whistling to all the little forest animals and inviting them to the first wild romp of the season.
It's Spring!
Most of the snow is gone!
The first crocuses (croci?) are up.
I heard a dove today.
I think I'll survive.
The first crocuses (croci?) are up.
I heard a dove today.
I think I'll survive.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Concrete Thinkers
I'm feeling like Professor Kirk from The Chronicles of Narnia—"What are they teaching in the schools these days?"
I suppose it's all electronic. If my students want a flight of imagination (someone else's imagination), they go to a movie or fire up a computer game. If they actually read print (an increasingly odd and specialist activity), it always has a recipe-book concreteness. Each word only has one unambiguous simple meaning. No shades. No poetry. No assignment from a teacher can ever be humorous, sad, sarcastic, or ironic.
It all reminds me of the time when I was a tour guide for a busload of Japanese students. I tried to warm them up with a joke. They took notes.
One of my colleagues was trying to teach Shakespeare's Hamlet. The textbook said it would be helpful if the reader imagined himself/herself to be in Denmark or England. The students came to the conclusion that all plays take place in Denmark or England.
I once tried to do something with non-literal language. I began with the old song, "You Are the Wind Beneath My Wings," then moved to the 23rd Psalm, and asked if we could take these literally. Did Bette Midler think she had aluminum wings projecting from her body? Did the Psalmist think he had white wool and ate grass? The students' conclusion: poetry in general is totally stupid nonsense.
I'm not sure how to get out of this depressing loop. I think I'll try folk songs. I wonder if I can find a great joke that everyone gets. (Not likely)
I do suspect that this hyper-literalist language that avoids all thinking and interpretation does play into the hands of the right-wing nut-case demagogues. Example: Someone in the Federal government suggested that it would be a good idea to perhaps restrict fishing in certain areas to avoid depleting streams and lakes. (That's a very nuanced and "maybe" kind of statement.) Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh picked it up. They can't do "maybe" and "nuance," so it came out as a solid order (it wasn't) from the president himself (it wasn't) saying that all fishing would forever be forbidden in the USA. And because my students (and others like them) can't discern between the literal prescription of an operating manual and the ambiguity of someone who is pondering an idea—and assume that anyone who speaks on the radio is always absolutely correct—America assumes that Obama has come up with another way to strip us of our rights.
I suppose it's all electronic. If my students want a flight of imagination (someone else's imagination), they go to a movie or fire up a computer game. If they actually read print (an increasingly odd and specialist activity), it always has a recipe-book concreteness. Each word only has one unambiguous simple meaning. No shades. No poetry. No assignment from a teacher can ever be humorous, sad, sarcastic, or ironic.
It all reminds me of the time when I was a tour guide for a busload of Japanese students. I tried to warm them up with a joke. They took notes.
One of my colleagues was trying to teach Shakespeare's Hamlet. The textbook said it would be helpful if the reader imagined himself/herself to be in Denmark or England. The students came to the conclusion that all plays take place in Denmark or England.
I once tried to do something with non-literal language. I began with the old song, "You Are the Wind Beneath My Wings," then moved to the 23rd Psalm, and asked if we could take these literally. Did Bette Midler think she had aluminum wings projecting from her body? Did the Psalmist think he had white wool and ate grass? The students' conclusion: poetry in general is totally stupid nonsense.
I'm not sure how to get out of this depressing loop. I think I'll try folk songs. I wonder if I can find a great joke that everyone gets. (Not likely)
I do suspect that this hyper-literalist language that avoids all thinking and interpretation does play into the hands of the right-wing nut-case demagogues. Example: Someone in the Federal government suggested that it would be a good idea to perhaps restrict fishing in certain areas to avoid depleting streams and lakes. (That's a very nuanced and "maybe" kind of statement.) Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh picked it up. They can't do "maybe" and "nuance," so it came out as a solid order (it wasn't) from the president himself (it wasn't) saying that all fishing would forever be forbidden in the USA. And because my students (and others like them) can't discern between the literal prescription of an operating manual and the ambiguity of someone who is pondering an idea—and assume that anyone who speaks on the radio is always absolutely correct—America assumes that Obama has come up with another way to strip us of our rights.
Monday, March 8, 2010
unChristian: Political
OK, I'll admit that this is only one portion of the book's chapter on Christian politics, but ...
When this market research company wanted to find out about support for a "Christianized" country, these were the five items that defined support:
When this market research company wanted to find out about support for a "Christianized" country, these were the five items that defined support:
- Strongly oppose removal of "In God We Trust"
- Strongly oppose removal of "one nation under God" (from the Pledge of Allegiance, I presume)
- Strongly oppose removal of Ten Commandments from government buildings
- Strongly favor federal marriage amendment
- Strongly favor adding the teaching of creationism in public schools.
That's what "Christianizes" America? Public memorials to civil religion? We've got the first three right now, and we're such examples of Christian character as a nation?
What about these Christian initiatives on the federal government level?
- Commitment that all future military action will fit the definition of a "just war."
- Commitment to helping the poorest among us find jobs and health care
- Eliminating pay-outs to rescue obscenely rich companies that have screwed up their business.
- Really getting serious about eliminating government corruption and graft
- Caring for the environment (Even if we do believe George W's silly anti-science stance, it's part of Christian stewardship to take care of the stuff God gives us.)
- Guaranteeing justice even for our enemies—those browner, more hispanic or more gay than ourselves (Wait! are those really our enemies?)
That list might have a chance of being called "Christian character." After all, the drug dealer or hit man who pays with money marked "In God We Trust" hasn't gotten the message anyhow.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
unChristian: Irrelevant and Isolated
It's no secret that Christians like to pull away from the world and build walls. The medieval monasteries did that. Ironically, foreign missionaries do that. Amish do that.
A recent Yahoo News article on textbooks used by homeschoolers seemed astonished that the textbooks presented a one-sided creationist view of science. The news writers were surprised by this statement printed in the introduction to one book:
But that wasn't what I wanted to write about here.
The book unChristian makes the odd point that younger people, both inside and outside the church, are very interested in spiritual issues, but don't think that the church is a very good place to find answers to spiritual questions. That's just fascinating. It's like saying that McDonald's isn't a very good place to find hamburgers. What can you find at church?
A recent Yahoo News article on textbooks used by homeschoolers seemed astonished that the textbooks presented a one-sided creationist view of science. The news writers were surprised by this statement printed in the introduction to one book:
"Those who do not believe that the Bible is the inspired, inerrant Word of God will find many points in this book puzzling," says the introduction to "Biology: Third Edition" from Bob Jones University Press. "This book was not written for them."
The textbook delivers a religious ultimatum to young readers and parents, warning in its "History of Life" chapter that a "Christian worldview ... is the only correct view of reality; anyone who rejects it will not only fail to reach heaven but also fail to see the world as it truly is."The preference for chiropractors and homeopathy to medical doctors is rooted in the idea that science always sabotages Christian faith. So is the disdain for such mundane matters as academic accreditation, critical thinking, and even statistical analysis. "Don't confuse me with godless facts. I know what I believe." The Bible must not be polluted with comparative linguistics. If English was good enough for Jesus Christ, then it's good enough for me.
But that wasn't what I wanted to write about here.
The book unChristian makes the odd point that younger people, both inside and outside the church, are very interested in spiritual issues, but don't think that the church is a very good place to find answers to spiritual questions. That's just fascinating. It's like saying that McDonald's isn't a very good place to find hamburgers. What can you find at church?
- A weekly public speaking and music event, usually in an idiom that today's people find odd and old-fashioned. (Face it: today's teenagers aren't that thrilled by 1970s folk-songs.)
- Advice on how to be a better person.
- Intense pressure to conform (at least superficially and temporarily) to the outward markings of religious people.
- Intense condemnation of some things that inwardly you really don't object to (having sex with a girlfriend you really love, protecting the rights and safety of your gay friend)
- Lots of politics, and the thinly-veiled implication that America has a Christian political party and a Satanic one. Coupled with this is the dedication to make America's civil institutions into a mechanism for imposing superficial Christian practices on unbelievers.
What can't you find?
- An understanding that we're all "in process" and some of us haven't caught up with the others.
- A way to deal with the tough day-to-day questions: "Will I ever figure out my life?" "Why is God always so silent?" "What if I'm just tired of keeping all the rules?" "Why are you guys always so happy and I'm not?"
- Friendship that will stand by me even when I screw up.
- Intellectually satisfying explanations of some of the tough issues.
- An attitude of confidence and compassion rather than fear and loathing when facing the outside world.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
E-mail?
I just figured out something about a generational difference.
My students will often e-mail me and get really frustrated when I don't receive it and respond to it within an hour. I'm doing conferences and this morning a student was really upset that I didn't do anything about her e-mail yesterday that said she was sick and couldn't make her appointment yesterday. This kind of thing keeps happening.
So here's the generational thing. I will check my business e-mail maybe once a day. I've got five different active e-mail accounts, and only one of them is constantly on my Apple desktop. And that's the way I like it. University accounts spit out something like 200 messages a week, 199 of which are pointless.
Watching my students (and watching Jared very closely), it's obvious, though, that today's teenagers consider five minutes away from e-mail, Twitter, Facebook, and text messaging to be a REAL problem. Any message is worth an instant reply. Any. Certainly the reply is usually two or three letters, but it's there.
I've got other things to do with my time. If I'm in the middle of a conversation with a student, I'm not going to e-mail someone. And that causes my kids to get upset.
My students will often e-mail me and get really frustrated when I don't receive it and respond to it within an hour. I'm doing conferences and this morning a student was really upset that I didn't do anything about her e-mail yesterday that said she was sick and couldn't make her appointment yesterday. This kind of thing keeps happening.
So here's the generational thing. I will check my business e-mail maybe once a day. I've got five different active e-mail accounts, and only one of them is constantly on my Apple desktop. And that's the way I like it. University accounts spit out something like 200 messages a week, 199 of which are pointless.
Watching my students (and watching Jared very closely), it's obvious, though, that today's teenagers consider five minutes away from e-mail, Twitter, Facebook, and text messaging to be a REAL problem. Any message is worth an instant reply. Any. Certainly the reply is usually two or three letters, but it's there.
I've got other things to do with my time. If I'm in the middle of a conversation with a student, I'm not going to e-mail someone. And that causes my kids to get upset.
Third Day
My supervisor at Akron decreed that we must meet with every student at midterm to give out grades (because the University software, after three years of trying, still can't figure out how to deliver midterm grades). I must say I wasn't looking forward to it. Seventy-five ten-minute conferences. And I made things more difficult by telling myself that I'd grade all the papers from last Thursday before meeting the students.
Today is the third day of conferences, and I don't quite know what to expect. The clueless woman who never gets assignments right and says it's my fault will be there. So will a couple of people who simply write D papers.
Yesterday I met
Today is the third day of conferences, and I don't quite know what to expect. The clueless woman who never gets assignments right and says it's my fault will be there. So will a couple of people who simply write D papers.
Yesterday I met
- One student who obviously has such anxiety that he simply cannot submit anything. He trembled throughout the whole interview.
- A student who is apparently learning-disabled and never diagnosed. When you read her stuff, you can't really figure out what she's trying to say.
- A student who works as a paramedic and has been out of class because she was accidentally jabbed with a needle infected with HIV. She's having a bad reaction to her medications.
- A student who apparently spent the first few weeks of the semester drunk, but is now getting his act together.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
More on loneliness
This is yet more of the scattered rough draft that I began below.
The Loneliness book makes two telling points in the first chapter. (1) We are often lonely because we have structured it that way and (2) loneliness is more of a taboo subject than most others.
I'll deal with #1 later, though it's interesting to note that English departments are terrible at interpersonal relationships. I spend my day teaching young adults, yet I feel alone because never have any interaction with peers and the teaching isn't that personal. I have a tiny cubicle office and we never have department meetings or group lunches or anything like that. I tried a Departmental blog but nobody would join. At GFC, things are getting better, though we still stress events that don't involve any significant interaction.
#2, the one about loneliness being a taboo subject, is worth more time. The two psychiatrist authors say that people are much more comfortable saying they are depressed than saying they are lonely. I know that at GFC, some topics are "safe" and some are definitely off-menu.
First example: A few years back we had men's prayer breakfasts, about once every six months. It was the usual thing: powdered donuts followed by singing and then sort of a round-the-circle prayer request. The leader asked a question about "what you are afraid of." (Probably keyed into a Bible verse he'd read to us.) I broke the rules. I suspect we were expected to say something about fearing a liberal in the White House, fearing that the Ten Commandments plaque would get removed from the courthouse, or fearing that public schools would continue teaching evolution. My rule-breaking comment was that I feared entering old age alone and with no really good pension plan. Ten or fifteen seconds of absolute silence followed. They looked uncomfortably at one another (presumably because they all have great pension plans and will never be alone when they are old). Then someone broke the silence with a comment about a "safe" fear—probably something political.
It's funny how distant we make things.
See a trend?
Second example: I guess I never learn. This one happened at a small-group meeting. Once again someone asked what we'd like people to pray about in our lives. Once again I said the wrong thing. I said that I spend a lot of my time feeling really alone. One member (bless his little heart) took the opportunity to use me as a preaching example and exhorted the group—long and loud—to reach out to this poor guy (me) and not to let this sad case (me) languish in loneliness. It was embarrassing. He went on for hours, it seemed. Probably five minutes. Then that was it. Neither he nor anyone else from the group ever said much of anything to me again about it. No coffee invitations. Nothing.
I think the problem is that those depersonalized prayer requests don't make the listener feel guilty. If my Uncle Herb in New Jersey is suffering from gout, nobody in the group is culpable. Nobody identifies much either. But if I say I'd love a coffee friend, everyone in the group feels like a failure. Every group member is a potential answer to prayer, and obviously they all screwed up. And it's a level of vulnerability that's scary. There's an enormous difference between "yes I have a sick uncle too" and "yes I feel really lonely and unable to connect too."
The Loneliness book makes two telling points in the first chapter. (1) We are often lonely because we have structured it that way and (2) loneliness is more of a taboo subject than most others.
I'll deal with #1 later, though it's interesting to note that English departments are terrible at interpersonal relationships. I spend my day teaching young adults, yet I feel alone because never have any interaction with peers and the teaching isn't that personal. I have a tiny cubicle office and we never have department meetings or group lunches or anything like that. I tried a Departmental blog but nobody would join. At GFC, things are getting better, though we still stress events that don't involve any significant interaction.
#2, the one about loneliness being a taboo subject, is worth more time. The two psychiatrist authors say that people are much more comfortable saying they are depressed than saying they are lonely. I know that at GFC, some topics are "safe" and some are definitely off-menu.
First example: A few years back we had men's prayer breakfasts, about once every six months. It was the usual thing: powdered donuts followed by singing and then sort of a round-the-circle prayer request. The leader asked a question about "what you are afraid of." (Probably keyed into a Bible verse he'd read to us.) I broke the rules. I suspect we were expected to say something about fearing a liberal in the White House, fearing that the Ten Commandments plaque would get removed from the courthouse, or fearing that public schools would continue teaching evolution. My rule-breaking comment was that I feared entering old age alone and with no really good pension plan. Ten or fifteen seconds of absolute silence followed. They looked uncomfortably at one another (presumably because they all have great pension plans and will never be alone when they are old). Then someone broke the silence with a comment about a "safe" fear—probably something political.
It's funny how distant we make things.
Safe prayer topics:
- Health problems of some distant relative
- Perceived attacks by the government on one of our sacred cows
- My spouse needs to repent
Unsafe prayer topics:
- I made an idiot of myself at work and now I must apologize
- I'm really lonely
- I feel so disconnected from family members
- I fill my life with so much stuff that I have no time for anything or anyone important
- I wish I didn't feel so insignificant
- I need to repent but I don't want to
- I don't think I like my spouse any more
See a trend?
Second example: I guess I never learn. This one happened at a small-group meeting. Once again someone asked what we'd like people to pray about in our lives. Once again I said the wrong thing. I said that I spend a lot of my time feeling really alone. One member (bless his little heart) took the opportunity to use me as a preaching example and exhorted the group—long and loud—to reach out to this poor guy (me) and not to let this sad case (me) languish in loneliness. It was embarrassing. He went on for hours, it seemed. Probably five minutes. Then that was it. Neither he nor anyone else from the group ever said much of anything to me again about it. No coffee invitations. Nothing.
I think the problem is that those depersonalized prayer requests don't make the listener feel guilty. If my Uncle Herb in New Jersey is suffering from gout, nobody in the group is culpable. Nobody identifies much either. But if I say I'd love a coffee friend, everyone in the group feels like a failure. Every group member is a potential answer to prayer, and obviously they all screwed up. And it's a level of vulnerability that's scary. There's an enormous difference between "yes I have a sick uncle too" and "yes I feel really lonely and unable to connect too."
Monday, March 1, 2010
Really alone
Think of this as a scattered rough draft of another Arkenstone article. Jerry (and others) are really welcome to comment.
Yesterday I ran into a reference to The lonely American: drifting apart in the twenty-first century by Jacqueline Olds and Richard S. Schwartz. (Here's a response in The New York Times.) No, I haven't had time to read them, though I did read some excerpts. The point seems to be that the USA is increasingly lonely, pathologically so. I'd guess (before doing the reading) that men are in worse shape than women. There's got to be a reason that teenagers are on the Internet 24/7, that porn is usually a substitute for healthy relationships, and that we're always setting records in drug/alcohol abuse.
Churches (especially our church—because we stress community so much) should be an effective bulwark against this sort of problem, but it's at least as bad in here as it is out there. Examples:
Focusing on our families. I don't know the source of this one, but (until quite recently) we used to teach people to ditch friendships when they got married. I lost one friend this way. He got married, and I never talked with him again. Another young man got the message from a church leader at his wedding reception, and he told the elder to buzz off. Is this some sort of perversion from Bill Gothard? From Focus on the Family? Where?
Structure. The traditionalist role for men is "bring home the paycheck, play with the kids, help dry the dishes, and go to sleep." The approved Christian structure doesn't have room for "a night out with the boys." (They will probably play poker, smoke cigars, drink beer, and go to a strip-tease show.) Women have ample structured time to be with other women. Think about Women's Ministry, Dance Group, Sewing Circle, and so forth. Men? A weekend once every two or three years. And if we wanted to get radical (obscene? perverted? subversive at least!) and suggest that social structures for finding friendship across gender or age barriers might work, it's definitely forbidden by our taboos.
Loop back. Women have multiple places to find friendship. So do children and teenagers. Men, however, are out in the cold. Well perhaps not all men. Single men definitely, because the only real validity for a man is found in his place as husband/father. Married guys can at least talk with their wives and children. (And we know that married people are never lonely, right?)
Yesterday I ran into a reference to The lonely American: drifting apart in the twenty-first century by Jacqueline Olds and Richard S. Schwartz. (Here's a response in The New York Times.) No, I haven't had time to read them, though I did read some excerpts. The point seems to be that the USA is increasingly lonely, pathologically so. I'd guess (before doing the reading) that men are in worse shape than women. There's got to be a reason that teenagers are on the Internet 24/7, that porn is usually a substitute for healthy relationships, and that we're always setting records in drug/alcohol abuse.
Churches (especially our church—because we stress community so much) should be an effective bulwark against this sort of problem, but it's at least as bad in here as it is out there. Examples:
Focusing on our families. I don't know the source of this one, but (until quite recently) we used to teach people to ditch friendships when they got married. I lost one friend this way. He got married, and I never talked with him again. Another young man got the message from a church leader at his wedding reception, and he told the elder to buzz off. Is this some sort of perversion from Bill Gothard? From Focus on the Family? Where?
- Sidenote that might not make it into a finished column: We hate established experts who have done genuine research at universities because we assume universities are always anti-Christian, but anyone who writes a book, gets it self-published and stocked at Christian bookstores becomes a respected voice. Thus the plethora of nut-case psychological theories in churches.
Structure. The traditionalist role for men is "bring home the paycheck, play with the kids, help dry the dishes, and go to sleep." The approved Christian structure doesn't have room for "a night out with the boys." (They will probably play poker, smoke cigars, drink beer, and go to a strip-tease show.) Women have ample structured time to be with other women. Think about Women's Ministry, Dance Group, Sewing Circle, and so forth. Men? A weekend once every two or three years. And if we wanted to get radical (obscene? perverted? subversive at least!) and suggest that social structures for finding friendship across gender or age barriers might work, it's definitely forbidden by our taboos.
Loop back. Women have multiple places to find friendship. So do children and teenagers. Men, however, are out in the cold. Well perhaps not all men. Single men definitely, because the only real validity for a man is found in his place as husband/father. Married guys can at least talk with their wives and children. (And we know that married people are never lonely, right?)
Friday, February 26, 2010
Jack London
It's snowing. Again. Four inches plus predicted by morning.
I'm becoming one of those characters in a Jack London story who watches the wolves coming over the frozen wasteland while I hide in the cabin, banging my head against the wall and moaning, "my God, my God, the everlasting snow," and drinking water glasses full of whiskey while my faithful husky looks on, contented because he's chewing a half-frozen strip of blubber and he doesn't understand what the problem could be.
I'm becoming one of those characters in a Jack London story who watches the wolves coming over the frozen wasteland while I hide in the cabin, banging my head against the wall and moaning, "my God, my God, the everlasting snow," and drinking water glasses full of whiskey while my faithful husky looks on, contented because he's chewing a half-frozen strip of blubber and he doesn't understand what the problem could be.
Chinese comments
Every so often, I log on here, and I find someone has left a comment in Chinese. I don't read Chinese that well. Not at all, in fact. So if you intend for me to see it, may I suggest English. Or French. Or perhaps Latin. Greek? My Hebrew is a bit rusty. Sorry.
I just routinely delete the Chinese comments.
I just routinely delete the Chinese comments.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
I refuse to feel guilty
One of my students makes me tired, but I refuse to feel guilty.
She attends about half the time (health issues, apparently). She hasn't gotten around to buying the book, can't figure out that when the assignment sheet says something is due that she should work on it, shows up late, and seems to have another agenda during class (spent her time balancing her checkbook one session).
Today she got angry at me because she e-mailed me a paper and I don't have it. I suggested that if she e-mailed it, a copy is in her "Sent" folder. She took that as an insult.
I refuse to feel guilty.
She attends about half the time (health issues, apparently). She hasn't gotten around to buying the book, can't figure out that when the assignment sheet says something is due that she should work on it, shows up late, and seems to have another agenda during class (spent her time balancing her checkbook one session).
Today she got angry at me because she e-mailed me a paper and I don't have it. I suggested that if she e-mailed it, a copy is in her "Sent" folder. She took that as an insult.
I refuse to feel guilty.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Losing a name
This is a rough draft of something that might turn out to be the THIRD column! Jerry's amazed that I've already done two.
Back when I was in seminary, Christendom was divided neatly into about two pieces. Sort of an "us and them" thing.
Well, of course, there were more than two, but the Roman Catholics didn't count and neither did any of the members of Eastern Rite churches. (Though the Catholics are still the largest single denomination in the USA and the Eastern Orthodox Church is the second largest body of Christians in the world. But who's counting?)
Anyhow, the "us and them" of Protestantdom was the Liberals and the Fundamentalists. And we knew we didn't fit in very well with either one. Liberals, my seminary professors assured me, were godless pagans who made a point of ignoring Jesus and justified every kind of immoral behavior by saying that it's the modern acceptable norm. Fundamentalists were simple-minded folk who memorized the King James Version and had no clue that there were any doctrines beyond responding to an altar call.
We wanted to be something else. The "we" was people like Francis Schaeffer, Jerram Barrs, Egon Middelmann (my roommate for a while and a relation of Schaeffer). Interesting bunch. Google them. Anyhow, we knew we didn't want to lose sight of Jesus. We knew that the Christian faith isn't just for the shallow-minded. Ted Smith (a professor of graphic design at Washington University) knew that the truly tacky visual arts that were so common in churches didn't reflect God's nature that well. Lots of us college kids loved the six-word gospel choruses, but Egon liked to remind us that church music used to have a lot of depth, so we sang Bach chorales. As a congregation.
The "we" was bigger than my circle of friends and fellow church members in St. Louis. One example was Robert E. Webber of Wheaton College. I'll let you Google those names to figure out who I'm talking about.
We called ourselves "Evangelicals" to distinguish ourselves from the secular-influenced Liberals and from the simple-mindedness of the Fundamentalists.
Then we lost that name. It has picked up connotations of intolerance, prejudice, insensitivity to the plight of the poor and suffering, and a political agenda that includes establishing a right-wing christian theocracy. (Lower-case "c" intentional.) If you say that John Doe is an Evangelical preacher, people assume that he's mainly focused on easy believism, personal wealth and glory for himself, and is probably corrupt. If someone says that First Steeple Church is an active Evangelical congregation, we imagine them to be picketing some courthouse but never feeding the poor. Let the Salvation Army do that.
I think it's a sad loss, both of the name and of the direction.
Back when I was in seminary, Christendom was divided neatly into about two pieces. Sort of an "us and them" thing.
Well, of course, there were more than two, but the Roman Catholics didn't count and neither did any of the members of Eastern Rite churches. (Though the Catholics are still the largest single denomination in the USA and the Eastern Orthodox Church is the second largest body of Christians in the world. But who's counting?)
Anyhow, the "us and them" of Protestantdom was the Liberals and the Fundamentalists. And we knew we didn't fit in very well with either one. Liberals, my seminary professors assured me, were godless pagans who made a point of ignoring Jesus and justified every kind of immoral behavior by saying that it's the modern acceptable norm. Fundamentalists were simple-minded folk who memorized the King James Version and had no clue that there were any doctrines beyond responding to an altar call.
We wanted to be something else. The "we" was people like Francis Schaeffer, Jerram Barrs, Egon Middelmann (my roommate for a while and a relation of Schaeffer). Interesting bunch. Google them. Anyhow, we knew we didn't want to lose sight of Jesus. We knew that the Christian faith isn't just for the shallow-minded. Ted Smith (a professor of graphic design at Washington University) knew that the truly tacky visual arts that were so common in churches didn't reflect God's nature that well. Lots of us college kids loved the six-word gospel choruses, but Egon liked to remind us that church music used to have a lot of depth, so we sang Bach chorales. As a congregation.
The "we" was bigger than my circle of friends and fellow church members in St. Louis. One example was Robert E. Webber of Wheaton College. I'll let you Google those names to figure out who I'm talking about.
We called ourselves "Evangelicals" to distinguish ourselves from the secular-influenced Liberals and from the simple-mindedness of the Fundamentalists.
Then we lost that name. It has picked up connotations of intolerance, prejudice, insensitivity to the plight of the poor and suffering, and a political agenda that includes establishing a right-wing christian theocracy. (Lower-case "c" intentional.) If you say that John Doe is an Evangelical preacher, people assume that he's mainly focused on easy believism, personal wealth and glory for himself, and is probably corrupt. If someone says that First Steeple Church is an active Evangelical congregation, we imagine them to be picketing some courthouse but never feeding the poor. Let the Salvation Army do that.
I think it's a sad loss, both of the name and of the direction.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Newsletter Column: Arkenstone
Two leaders of the church here asked me to write a monthly standing feature for the new church newsletter. They may have gotten more than they bargained for. Anyhow, here's the "about" blurb that will go with the first copy, then below you'll see a couple of the early efforts.
We Christians tend to be very tribal too, and we are tempted to keep the "holy stones" (another meaning for the ancient word) to ourselves, not realizing the power of our treasure to be a meeting-point with other tribes.
About the column:
Back in the dawn of the ages, I came to Grace Haven Farm to work with Rivendell Arts Fellowship publishing Arkenstone magazine, which was to be a meeting point between the arts and Christianity. The name was taken from The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien, and is derived from an Anglo-Saxon word that means "precious stone." In the book, the dwarves claim the stone as a tribal treasure, but it ends up being a bargaining-piece to end the war between elves, dwarves, and men.We Christians tend to be very tribal too, and we are tempted to keep the "holy stones" (another meaning for the ancient word) to ourselves, not realizing the power of our treasure to be a meeting-point with other tribes.
Arkenstone: unChristian
I'm about halfway through reading a new book: unChristian: What a New Generation Really Thinks about Christianity... and Why It Matters by David Kinnaman. It's scary—more frightening in some ways than the latest monster movie.
Kinnaman is a researcher with The Barna Group, a highly respected research organization that focuses on issues important to the church. They're on our side: Their aim is "to partner with Christian ministries and individuals to be a catalyst in moral and spiritual transformation." The research behind this book focused on "outsiders," those looking at the Christian faith from the outside, in two age groups, the "Busters" (those born between 1965 and 1983) and the "Mosaics" (those born between 1984 and 2002).
These outsiders have a pretty low opinion of us. One outsider from Mississippi said, "Christianity has become bloated with blind followers who would rather repeat slogans than actually feel true compassion and care. Christianity has become marketed and streamlined into a juggernaut of fearmongering that has lost its own heart" (page 15). This individual isn't the only one. Within this research group, 87% said we're judgmental, 85% said we're hypocritical, 72% said we're out of touch with reality, and 70% said we're insensitive to others. Only 55% said we consistently show love for other people, and 30% said Christianity is relevant to their lives.
We have a pretty low opinion of outsiders too. We call them names: "pagans," "the lost," and "unbelievers." We trivialize their problems. We figure it's OK to be deceptive if a higher end is in sight (just remember the Idaho Baptists and their attempt to sneak children out of Haiti).
No wonder both sides feel as if a war is going on.
Back in my school bus driving days, I had to break up a fight between two boys. When I asked what happened, one boy came up with the explanation: "It all began when he hit me back." The victim mentality will justify all sorts of nastiness.
Many Christians I've talked to seem to think there's a vast conspiracy going on, especially on the university campuses, to discredit the Christian faith. Professors apparently meet to discuss strategy and plan attacks. The truth is, especially on the university campus, that half the world doesn't even know we exist and the other half is afraid of us. They know that we want to gain political power, then enact all sorts of restrictions on intellectual and religious freedom. They know we hate the First Amendment.
And in this dreary circle, both sides face each other, never making contact, never actually understanding one another.
Kinnaman doesn't leave us there. Each chapter ends with specific suggestions for healing the breach. For example, the chapter on hypocrisy ends with an account of a Los Angeles area church that sponsored a series of meetings called "Confessions of a Sinful Church." Transparency—being honest about our lives, even about the problems our lifestyles have created—was the aim. It wasn't just a recruitment ploy, but a real apology, and it broke down some barriers between that church and the people in the community.
Kinnaman is a researcher with The Barna Group, a highly respected research organization that focuses on issues important to the church. They're on our side: Their aim is "to partner with Christian ministries and individuals to be a catalyst in moral and spiritual transformation." The research behind this book focused on "outsiders," those looking at the Christian faith from the outside, in two age groups, the "Busters" (those born between 1965 and 1983) and the "Mosaics" (those born between 1984 and 2002).
These outsiders have a pretty low opinion of us. One outsider from Mississippi said, "Christianity has become bloated with blind followers who would rather repeat slogans than actually feel true compassion and care. Christianity has become marketed and streamlined into a juggernaut of fearmongering that has lost its own heart" (page 15). This individual isn't the only one. Within this research group, 87% said we're judgmental, 85% said we're hypocritical, 72% said we're out of touch with reality, and 70% said we're insensitive to others. Only 55% said we consistently show love for other people, and 30% said Christianity is relevant to their lives.
We have a pretty low opinion of outsiders too. We call them names: "pagans," "the lost," and "unbelievers." We trivialize their problems. We figure it's OK to be deceptive if a higher end is in sight (just remember the Idaho Baptists and their attempt to sneak children out of Haiti).
No wonder both sides feel as if a war is going on.
Back in my school bus driving days, I had to break up a fight between two boys. When I asked what happened, one boy came up with the explanation: "It all began when he hit me back." The victim mentality will justify all sorts of nastiness.
Many Christians I've talked to seem to think there's a vast conspiracy going on, especially on the university campuses, to discredit the Christian faith. Professors apparently meet to discuss strategy and plan attacks. The truth is, especially on the university campus, that half the world doesn't even know we exist and the other half is afraid of us. They know that we want to gain political power, then enact all sorts of restrictions on intellectual and religious freedom. They know we hate the First Amendment.
And in this dreary circle, both sides face each other, never making contact, never actually understanding one another.
Kinnaman doesn't leave us there. Each chapter ends with specific suggestions for healing the breach. For example, the chapter on hypocrisy ends with an account of a Los Angeles area church that sponsored a series of meetings called "Confessions of a Sinful Church." Transparency—being honest about our lives, even about the problems our lifestyles have created—was the aim. It wasn't just a recruitment ploy, but a real apology, and it broke down some barriers between that church and the people in the community.
Arkenstone: School Prayer
This morning, while I was reading the comics online, I ran into one of those fake surveys. This one asked, "Prayer should be forbidden in schools. Agree? Disagree?" Of course, the survey, like the question itself, was a fake. It was just a come-on for a high-interest credit card application.
Has there ever been a serious proposal that some sort of atheist police would prosecute a kid for quietly thanking God for his lunch? Or praying for a better test grade? Or even praying that the teacher would forget about detention?
I grew up in Maryland, years and years ago. When I was in elementary school, we began each day with the Pledge of Allegiance, the Maryland state song (a creepy, bloodthirsty ditty that laments the fall of Baltimore to anti-slavery forces) and the Lord's Prayer. Somehow by the end of the ceremony, we'd pledged our loyalty to the country, the Old South, and God—in that order.
I remember it especially well because the official Maryland version of the prayer was from the King James Version, and we were supposed to say, "forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." I didn't know what that meant, but I did know that my Presbyterian church upbringing (based on the Revised Standard Version) had me saying, "forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors." I didn't know what that meant either, but I was quite careful to say MY words while they were saying THEIR words. It was a matter of tribal pride for me.
Some will point out that since school prayer was banned we've had an increase in drug abuse, teenage pregnancy, and illiteracy. We have also had an increase in computer use, PowerPoint slides, and free school lunches.
This is the point where I have to ask what prayer actually does.
When a Jewish girl mouths a Christian prayer because the teacher told her to, does God actually begin interacting with her? When an atheist says the words just to avoid trouble, does he become more moral? Or is it just words? More than once, the child who was picked to lead the day's ceremony faced the flag, laid a hand on his/her left pectoral muscle, and began, "Our Father..." Sleepy kid's brain found the wrong meaningless recitation for the moment.
We lost school prayer in Maryland because Madalyn Murray started a lawsuit, which ended up in the Supreme Court, against the Baltimore City Public Schools. No, the Court didn't forbid praying; it forbid the schools requiring prayer. I'd call that an advance for true Christianity. No more kids simply mouthing the words to get the morning started. No more unbelieving teachers required by their contract to lead prayers.
When you give evidence in court and you swear "so help me God," do you actually expect God's assistance? Does anyone else? When you handle our money with "In God We Trust" inscribed, does your faith get a boost? Does anyone's? I would suggest that such casual use of God's name actually cheapens the faith—in the same way that saying "God damn that hammer" cheapens the concept of eternal judgment.
The upside? Nowadays, when a kid prays at the start of a school day, he knows who he's talking to.
Has there ever been a serious proposal that some sort of atheist police would prosecute a kid for quietly thanking God for his lunch? Or praying for a better test grade? Or even praying that the teacher would forget about detention?
I grew up in Maryland, years and years ago. When I was in elementary school, we began each day with the Pledge of Allegiance, the Maryland state song (a creepy, bloodthirsty ditty that laments the fall of Baltimore to anti-slavery forces) and the Lord's Prayer. Somehow by the end of the ceremony, we'd pledged our loyalty to the country, the Old South, and God—in that order.
I remember it especially well because the official Maryland version of the prayer was from the King James Version, and we were supposed to say, "forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." I didn't know what that meant, but I did know that my Presbyterian church upbringing (based on the Revised Standard Version) had me saying, "forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors." I didn't know what that meant either, but I was quite careful to say MY words while they were saying THEIR words. It was a matter of tribal pride for me.
Some will point out that since school prayer was banned we've had an increase in drug abuse, teenage pregnancy, and illiteracy. We have also had an increase in computer use, PowerPoint slides, and free school lunches.
This is the point where I have to ask what prayer actually does.
When a Jewish girl mouths a Christian prayer because the teacher told her to, does God actually begin interacting with her? When an atheist says the words just to avoid trouble, does he become more moral? Or is it just words? More than once, the child who was picked to lead the day's ceremony faced the flag, laid a hand on his/her left pectoral muscle, and began, "Our Father..." Sleepy kid's brain found the wrong meaningless recitation for the moment.
We lost school prayer in Maryland because Madalyn Murray started a lawsuit, which ended up in the Supreme Court, against the Baltimore City Public Schools. No, the Court didn't forbid praying; it forbid the schools requiring prayer. I'd call that an advance for true Christianity. No more kids simply mouthing the words to get the morning started. No more unbelieving teachers required by their contract to lead prayers.
When you give evidence in court and you swear "so help me God," do you actually expect God's assistance? Does anyone else? When you handle our money with "In God We Trust" inscribed, does your faith get a boost? Does anyone's? I would suggest that such casual use of God's name actually cheapens the faith—in the same way that saying "God damn that hammer" cheapens the concept of eternal judgment.
The upside? Nowadays, when a kid prays at the start of a school day, he knows who he's talking to.
It's just better
This is one the days when church music in Latin just sounds better. After listening to a bunch of it, my public school Latin classes are coming back to me and it even makes sense.
Too bad that doesn't work for Greek and Hebrew.
Too bad that doesn't work for Greek and Hebrew.
Friday, February 19, 2010
'Tis the season
Yestereve as I came back from Akron, I passed by at least two houses that are still showing Christmas lights. Not just the generic candles in the windows, mind you, or the patriotic red-white-blue lights in the tree of one Akron home, but genuine multicolored lights. One had a wreath.
I went to the gym, and as I was changing, the TV was playing "Silent Night."
The snow at the intersections is often above the roof of my car.
Dairy Queen is now open.
I went to the gym, and as I was changing, the TV was playing "Silent Night."
The snow at the intersections is often above the roof of my car.
Dairy Queen is now open.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Roomie
Sunday evening, my new roommate, Jared, finally moved in for real. I've put a lot of effort into clearing all my junk from his room (though it means that the rest of the apartment is a wreck at the moment). His parents are in Brazil for at least a couple of months—then perhaps at the end of the summer moving there permanently.
I'm not quite sure what I expected from an 18-year-old roommate. The real person is pretty much like an 18-year-old kid. He's got a girlfriend who seems to rivet his attention with almost constant online conversation. He's not too thrilled with cleaning up his quarters. His food tastes aren't too gourmet (ramen and pizza). He's pretty happy with the idea that he really can do what he pleases (within logical limits). His school is off today for snow, but I'm working. He walked down to the church, where he will probably help get ready for the church dinner this Saturday. His idea. I'm not sure when he'll be back, but that's his affair, not mine.
I'm very pleased to have him around, though I sometimes grumble under my breath. I guess I'd do that at any roommate who doesn't do things exactly my way, though. The apartment doesn't seem so empty any more.
I'm not quite sure what I expected from an 18-year-old roommate. The real person is pretty much like an 18-year-old kid. He's got a girlfriend who seems to rivet his attention with almost constant online conversation. He's not too thrilled with cleaning up his quarters. His food tastes aren't too gourmet (ramen and pizza). He's pretty happy with the idea that he really can do what he pleases (within logical limits). His school is off today for snow, but I'm working. He walked down to the church, where he will probably help get ready for the church dinner this Saturday. His idea. I'm not sure when he'll be back, but that's his affair, not mine.
I'm very pleased to have him around, though I sometimes grumble under my breath. I guess I'd do that at any roommate who doesn't do things exactly my way, though. The apartment doesn't seem so empty any more.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Learned it from the comics
I'm often amazed at what I learn and where I learn it. Today's haul was entirely from the comic strips:
- I heard about the Red Sox Truck Day (which is tomorrow) from "Non Sequitur".
- "Sherman's Lagoon" introduced me to the box jellyfish, a genuine animal which possesses one of the most lethal toxins on earth.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Going to get published
The pastor of my church has asked me to write a short column for the monthly church newsletter. How cool is that! From his comments I conclude that he thinks church members are isolated from the world and need to know something about the "outsiders" and how they think.
Just yesterday, I was asking myself two questions: Why do I feel so alienated from this church? Why don't I simply go elsewhere? I've never had a satisfactory answer to number two, but number one is a no-brainer. I teach in a secular university, love art and music, and generally am not at all afraid of the world. Over the years, I've gotten to know Muslims, witches, and militant atheists. My secretary at Ashland is firmly convinced that I'm Jewish. I love thinking—both my own and other people's. By contrast, many of the people at the church (particularly the ones who have been there for a while) absolutely dislike thinking, and have a very firm "us/them" view of the world. In this construction, the outsiders have a plan going to sink Christianity, and (apparently) have meetings to discuss strategy. To listen to the rhetoric, you'd think the church is planted in the heart of the old Soviet Union, not in a place where Christians are the majority and the outsiders fear us.
I don't think the above is my first column. I'm not sure what will be, but apparently I'll get to do it. Probably better get a draft going so I can get it through the editorial process.
Just yesterday, I was asking myself two questions: Why do I feel so alienated from this church? Why don't I simply go elsewhere? I've never had a satisfactory answer to number two, but number one is a no-brainer. I teach in a secular university, love art and music, and generally am not at all afraid of the world. Over the years, I've gotten to know Muslims, witches, and militant atheists. My secretary at Ashland is firmly convinced that I'm Jewish. I love thinking—both my own and other people's. By contrast, many of the people at the church (particularly the ones who have been there for a while) absolutely dislike thinking, and have a very firm "us/them" view of the world. In this construction, the outsiders have a plan going to sink Christianity, and (apparently) have meetings to discuss strategy. To listen to the rhetoric, you'd think the church is planted in the heart of the old Soviet Union, not in a place where Christians are the majority and the outsiders fear us.
I don't think the above is my first column. I'm not sure what will be, but apparently I'll get to do it. Probably better get a draft going so I can get it through the editorial process.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Facebook loses its mind
Just when I thought I had the world figured out (I found the raisins at Kroger and assembled a Sauder chest of drawers), things got weird again.
The new Facebook layout apparently shows me everyone else's comments, but I can never see my own. How weird. So if I make a comment in the "What's on your mind?" space, it will never appear with everyone else's. (Yes, I know I can find it my clicking "My profile," but I had sort of expected it to be out there on the "News Feed" page.)
Maybe there's some odd self-effacing thing going on here that I'm not supposed to be that interested in my own comments or what people respond to them. I'm hoping others can see them.
I wouldn't be at all surprised if this were some form of "flood control." I would be tempted, if things moved faster, to actually have large group conversations. As it is, the "wall" metaphor is more like painting graffiti and seeing whether someone has responded the next evening.
The new Facebook layout apparently shows me everyone else's comments, but I can never see my own. How weird. So if I make a comment in the "What's on your mind?" space, it will never appear with everyone else's. (Yes, I know I can find it my clicking "My profile," but I had sort of expected it to be out there on the "News Feed" page.)
Maybe there's some odd self-effacing thing going on here that I'm not supposed to be that interested in my own comments or what people respond to them. I'm hoping others can see them.
Late-breaking
Oh ye of little faith! It does move my stuff over there—it just takes between 30 and 40 minutes to do it. That really changes the dynamic of an online conversation. It's not like a talk. More like sending old-fashioned paper letters back and forth. Post something. Go make dinner. Come back and see if it worked. Someone has something to say. Maybe another hour and my response will get back to him.I wouldn't be at all surprised if this were some form of "flood control." I would be tempted, if things moved faster, to actually have large group conversations. As it is, the "wall" metaphor is more like painting graffiti and seeing whether someone has responded the next evening.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Snowed in (sort of)
It's not really that bad out there, but mentally I'm so set up for a snow-in. Got lots of food. Cleaning the apartment. Baking oatmeal raisin bread. Did three loads of laundry this morning.
I wonder how my mother's doing. She's probably unaware that the Washington area is totally shut down. They turned off the subway and stopped the busses. The interstates are closed and the government offices sent everyone home early on Friday. I wonder what it would be like if Washington simply stopped doing anything for a little while.
I wonder how my mother's doing. She's probably unaware that the Washington area is totally shut down. They turned off the subway and stopped the busses. The interstates are closed and the government offices sent everyone home early on Friday. I wonder what it would be like if Washington simply stopped doing anything for a little while.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
The center of the universe
I'm about to grade more papers (surprised?) and I know what the first one will be. I assigned the students to read and respond to an article from Time magazine. One student's response is that the article is stupid because it uses big words that she can't understand. I get that a lot. The Universe has one center. It's me, and everything else is judged by my standard. Do I like Shakespeare? No. He's stupid. Is Robert Frost too intricate for me? Yes. He's an idiot. Do I think a comma belongs here? Of course—and that settles it.
The problem, of course, is that these ultimate deciders usually have a very limited experience of both literature and plain old vocabulary. So if they are right (and which one do I choose to worship?) I can't say "superannuated" (a word in the article that caused particular trouble).
College is a pain, too, when you are the smartest person in the whole place, all the textbooks are beneath you, and nobody will recognize that. You've got to suffer all these idiots for four years to get your B.A.
The problem, of course, is that these ultimate deciders usually have a very limited experience of both literature and plain old vocabulary. So if they are right (and which one do I choose to worship?) I can't say "superannuated" (a word in the article that caused particular trouble).
College is a pain, too, when you are the smartest person in the whole place, all the textbooks are beneath you, and nobody will recognize that. You've got to suffer all these idiots for four years to get your B.A.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Adobe lazy?
Steve Jobs thinks so.
I dunno. They gave me quite a workout tonight. I just wanted to print out a PDF with a margin larger than 1/8 inch (maybe I could actually see the letters on the edge that way). 40 sheets of paper later and several failed work-arounds, and I got it! I feel properly exercised! And it only cost me about $2 in printer supplies!
I'd tell you the secret, but no. You LIKE the output to run outside the printable area. Adobe knows that.
I dunno. They gave me quite a workout tonight. I just wanted to print out a PDF with a margin larger than 1/8 inch (maybe I could actually see the letters on the edge that way). 40 sheets of paper later and several failed work-arounds, and I got it! I feel properly exercised! And it only cost me about $2 in printer supplies!
I'd tell you the secret, but no. You LIKE the output to run outside the printable area. Adobe knows that.
Life Changes
Job
Put in an application for a full-time permanent-ish job at North Central State College. It's about the same amount of work as I do now, but with less driving and the possibility of health insurance. Do I want to move into a school where the point has always been to find excuses to fail people? Do I want to teach students who all think English is a way for the college to extort more money from them? Will NCSC realize that they were unreasonable to post a job that begins in the middle of the semester? Only time will tell.Roommate
I'm less than 24 hours from Jared moving in. I really like him and I'm looking forward to this, but it will be a very difficult change. Suddenly I won't be living just for myself. Suddenly I'll have to keep track of someone else's schedule because he needs me to be in a specific place at a specific time. No more wandering through the house in my underwear before I get coffee made. No more spontaneous decisions to just stay in Akron very late.Neither one of is us particularly neat by nature, but the clutter of two of us put together will be impossible. I'll absolutely NEED to enforce some order around there.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Idaho and Haiti
We Christians have a fatal attraction to stupidity. At least it seems so.
Putting the best possible face on the attempt by Idaho Baptists to pull (Snatch? Kidnap? The press used terms like "scoop up".) 100+ children from Haiti just after the earthquake:
Putting the best possible face on the attempt by Idaho Baptists to pull (Snatch? Kidnap? The press used terms like "scoop up".) 100+ children from Haiti just after the earthquake:
- Apparently there was almost no advance planning except a fundraiser.
- The Christians totally ignored immigration laws of three countries (USA, Haiti, Dominican Republic).
- The first batch of 33 children were accepted on the say-so of a local pastor—they were assumed to be orphans in spite of the protests of some that they had living parents.
- The only way to get them adopted to the USA would have involved (at least) some kind of forgery to get the kids papers, etc.
- Several of the kids claimed that they had been told they were going to a summer camp.
And the faithful back home who are praying for them refer to the problems as "Satanic opposition." Maybe it's not Satan. Maybe God doesn't quite want his followers to get involved in something as high-handed and cruel as this.
Which just raises the question whether an obviously illegal, poorly-conceived, arrogant idea should be pursued in God's name, hoping that the eventual good will cause people to forget how it all came about.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Comments to the blog
Twice now in the last week, I've logged on and found that I had "unmoderated comments" waiting for me. This means that someone said something in response to a post (Hooray!) and that I just need to approve it. Both were in Chinese.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
unChristian: Get Saved!
This is one of those chapters that proves the worth of Barna. Most insiders make assumptions that are totally out of synch with the truth. Here's a sample of those assumptions, all false according to Barna research:
- TV, radio, and large tent meetings are effective evangelistic tools.
- Quick little tracts are persuasive.
- Outsiders see and respect the sincerity and love of evangelizing Christians.
- Most outsiders have little experience of the Christian faith, so all we have to do is inform them.
- A "salvation experience" at a meeting or conference usually sticks for the rest of a person's life.
- Many adults are looking for a change in their spiritual foundation.
The truth is that most Americans have tried Christianity, usually as children and teenagers, and resent evangelism as an insincere attempt to bulk up a church's membership numbers. Another truth is that lack of ongoing relationship with outsiders dooms the whole project from the start.
As a personal note, the Alpha Course strikes me as just plain deceitful and wrong. The idea, as I understand it, is to set up a weekly small group, mainly for outsiders with a few church members mixed in, that includes a friendly dinner followed by a discussion of some spiritual or personal issue, with the implication being that Christian faith and community will meet some of the needs of the people who attend. The deceitful part is that the Alpha Course is a dead end. After the course is done, nobody ever has anybody over for dinner again, and small groups are never focused on friendship.
Have you ever noticed how often a newcomer to Grace shows a lot of interest, attends a lot of functions, gets baptized, then never comes back again?
Thursday, January 28, 2010
unChristian: Hypocrisy
Of course, Christians have been accused of being hypocrites for centuries. The problem is a religion with high moral and behavior standards and a population with human tendencies. The book, however, points out a couple of really disturbing characteristics.
As long as Christianity is defined as performance—acting good—something has gone astray. The old silly song, "we don't smoke and we don't chew and we don't go with the girls who do" defines the "true meaning" of Christianity for both the insiders and the outsiders. Add this to the very secularized morals and behavior of Christians today (about the only place where we differ from outsiders is that we don't like the "F" word on television), and you get a recipe for hypocrisy.
If "Christian" means "good, acceptable person," and "Christianity" means "keeping the rules," then everyone who wants to be seen as a good acceptable person will put on a façade of respectability. By definition, a façade is thin and superficial, so it's pretty easy to see through. And outsiders do. We stereotype people morally, we're cold and unhelpful, and we blur the message of Christ. As if that weren't enough, we actually believe each other's false faces, so we don't allow ourselves meaningful interaction with one another.
Proposed solution: transparency and public (yes!) apology for the church's self-righteous judgmental attitude.
As long as Christianity is defined as performance—acting good—something has gone astray. The old silly song, "we don't smoke and we don't chew and we don't go with the girls who do" defines the "true meaning" of Christianity for both the insiders and the outsiders. Add this to the very secularized morals and behavior of Christians today (about the only place where we differ from outsiders is that we don't like the "F" word on television), and you get a recipe for hypocrisy.
If "Christian" means "good, acceptable person," and "Christianity" means "keeping the rules," then everyone who wants to be seen as a good acceptable person will put on a façade of respectability. By definition, a façade is thin and superficial, so it's pretty easy to see through. And outsiders do. We stereotype people morally, we're cold and unhelpful, and we blur the message of Christ. As if that weren't enough, we actually believe each other's false faces, so we don't allow ourselves meaningful interaction with one another.
Proposed solution: transparency and public (yes!) apology for the church's self-righteous judgmental attitude.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
I don't know why, but I got obsessed with e-mail today. Both the University of Akron and Ashland University have opted for Microsoft's e-mail client (and they look identical), so I decided to finally learn how to send a message gracefully. They both have a "contacts" list, but the only use for that one seems to be producing a printed directory. Strange that the "contacts" simply won't work as a way to send e-mail. They have a directory that's the entire school. Nice. And they have a listing of all the addresses of anyone who ever sent me anything. Apparently people at Microsoft like to search through big lists.
I read a couple of online articles and was about to conclude that getting from a simple personal directory to an e-mail message was a six-step process of navigating, clicking, copying, clicking, navigating, etc. Then I noticed a very tiny (like about 1/16 inch) box that didn't seem to be associated with anything. Yep. That's it. The magic box that everyone knows is there, so they don't discuss it. The box that starts an e-mail message from the contacts list. It's a bad case of COIK: Clear Only If Known. Everyone knows how to use this product, so nobody would think of telling a new person how to.
That success made me bolder. I tried to find the Facebook message function. It only took about half an hour of searching through help documents, and suddenly when I clicked on something I was in my own message area. I think Facebook had mercy on me, or maybe a person must go through this initiation before being allowed to message. Anyhow, once I had done this, the item appeared on the menu above the page. I swear it wasn't there before.
And people wonder why we love the Mac so. Click the icon. Type a couple of letters of your friend's name, and the machine finds several guesses from your address book. Click the one you like. That's it. Never takes twenty minutes. Never takes even five.
I read a couple of online articles and was about to conclude that getting from a simple personal directory to an e-mail message was a six-step process of navigating, clicking, copying, clicking, navigating, etc. Then I noticed a very tiny (like about 1/16 inch) box that didn't seem to be associated with anything. Yep. That's it. The magic box that everyone knows is there, so they don't discuss it. The box that starts an e-mail message from the contacts list. It's a bad case of COIK: Clear Only If Known. Everyone knows how to use this product, so nobody would think of telling a new person how to.
That success made me bolder. I tried to find the Facebook message function. It only took about half an hour of searching through help documents, and suddenly when I clicked on something I was in my own message area. I think Facebook had mercy on me, or maybe a person must go through this initiation before being allowed to message. Anyhow, once I had done this, the item appeared on the menu above the page. I swear it wasn't there before.
And people wonder why we love the Mac so. Click the icon. Type a couple of letters of your friend's name, and the machine finds several guesses from your address book. Click the one you like. That's it. Never takes twenty minutes. Never takes even five.
unChristian
I am reading a new book: unChristian: What a New Generation Really Thinks about Christianity... and Why It Matters. This one came from the Barna Foundation, a conservative Christian group that specializes in statistical surveys related to church life. (They're the ones to ask if you want to know how many offspring of Southern Baptists end up in the Roman Catholic Church.)
I'm sort of in process with this one, and I don't agree with all the presuppositions, but I'll try to do sort of a chapter-by-chapter review and gloss of the book.
I'm sort of in process with this one, and I don't agree with all the presuppositions, but I'll try to do sort of a chapter-by-chapter review and gloss of the book.
The why
My own history is tied up with the focus of the authors. I came into the church from the outside and I'm still an outsider to a great extent. My daily work is with people who are 18 to 22 years old on secular college campuses, so I'm really not too much in sympathy with the "Christian bubble." Though I'm older than the book's research subjects, I really identify with them: really like Jesus, but not that thrilled with the cultural expression of his church. Nearly every public statement by official Christian types makes my guts clench, but I don't want to bail out.
The book's title, unChristian, refers to both the faith and mindset of the "New Generation." If I can sum it up, it seems like an alienated son—good memories of the Christian faith, lots of cultural lingering, and a nostalgia, but nevertheless going off in a new direction. And if there's one thing that runs through all these incredibly numerous surveys and interviews, it's that Christianity doesn't really understand the outsiders at all. No idea of how outsiders perceive Christianity. No idea of their priorities. No idea of their mindset. The danger, of course, is that the church could become an increasingly isolated faith community, similar to the Haredi Jews who wear special clothing, keep their children away from outsiders, and live in encapsulated communities.
Where was I?
Yikes! I see that I haven't done anything with this blog since before Christmas—slightly more than a month. My main excuse is that I got wrapped up in getting started with the new semester, but I really should do some writing here too. Main stuff happening:
- I've got a chance to apply for a full-time job at North Central State College. I've got to get that one done soon. The deadline is February 1. I'm still not sure I would take it because I'm really happy at Akron and Ashland, and it's actually more work to do NCSC (15 courses per year, an nothing in the summer)
- Any day now, I'll be getting an 18-year-old roommate. I'm a mixture of excited and upset. I've been totally alone for so long now that I keep wondering just how (and where) he will fit into my life. But on the other hand, I've known Jared for almost half of his life and I really like him. This should work.
- OK—it's a minor thing, but I changed cell phone plans, so now I can receive text messages. I just can't figure out how the kids manage to pump them out so fast.
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