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.

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.

• 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.

I have seen through Word's strategy, though. It was risky, but I think it will work for them. The not-so-new-now interface that is totally different from all other word processors might have driven off some customers, but now there's a generation of users who think a standard-looking interface (Open Office, NeoOffice, Word Perfect, etc.) is weird and confusing. Microsoft has a generation of captive customers.

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.

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.

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.

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...

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.

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.