culture

Some of the lessons I’ve had to plan here at training revolve around aspects of American culture, and in fact some teachers with this organization teach classes based solely on culture. I wonder if I’m the only one who thinks this is a little odd. Can you imagine going to a public high school in the US that offered, say, Italian culture classes? These aren’t language classes, just culture. Of course, there are lots of questions about how to be fair and sensitive in these classes. Our text suggests, among other things, presenting both the advantages and disadvantages of American culture and being more polite than frank when addressing the home culture of our students. These are both good ideas, of course, but the fact remains that it is impossible to teach American culture without contributing to the global imperialism of American culture. I remember Professor Vande Koppel teaching me how important it is for overseas English teachers to reinforce the value of the home culture, but now I actually have to do it. Any suggestions?

training

I’ve reached the end of week four of training. Soon I’ll take my TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) certification exam, and then in 9 days I take the long flight from LA to Munich and then connect on to Budapest. By my count I’ve done about 25 full lesson plans and countless partial ones over the course of the four weeks. Yet, as much as I’ve learned and practiced, there’s no doubt in my mind that nothing can prepare you to teach except simply doing it. For example, we learned a lot about classroom management in our lectures. We talked about the typical root causes of the problems, techniques for how to deal with them, and important ways to prevent problems before they start. But when time came and I was standing in front of a class that was misbehaving everything I had learned was gone. I don’t know if the fact that it was a class of my fellow teachers pretending to be deviant teenagers makes it better or worse. Nonetheless, I handled the situation pretty badly (though I did remember not to give them a good knock on the head), but when I face discipline problems next fall it’s not the lectures I’m going to remember. I’ll think of how I botched my peer class, and how to avoid repeating the same mistakes. I find this both frustrating (why did I sit through all those lectures?) and encouraging (I think I’ll only get better as a teacher). It’s a good thing God doesn’t call us to be perfect, or even successful, just faithful.

what a wedding should be

This weekend I was privileged to be a groomsman in my friend Ryan Voogt’s marriage to Shannon De Young. The whirlwind 45-hour trip to Grand Rapids was a great time on all fronts, but the ceremony itself was beautiful. I wanted to share with you the vows they made to one another yesterday in front of God and all those gathered to witness the service. May God give them strength to keep their promises.

The Way of Creation (Genesis 2:18-25): Here at last is bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh, divine help in a form I understand. You are the image of God for me. God speaks to me in your voice. God looks at me through your eyes. God touches me with your hands. And, in my love for you, I too may reflect God.

The Way of Denial (Ephesians 5:21-33): I take you, Ryan/Shannon, to be my husband/wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death parts us. Nothing else will have the power, for today I turn away from all other options. Forsaking all others, I commit myself to you. I will seek to serve you with tenderness and respect, energy and intelligence, imagination and love.

The Way of Renewal (Matthew 12:46-50): I take you, Ryan/Shannon, to be my brother/sister in Christ, for this life and for the next. Let our love be loved within the community of his church, and our home be embraced by a household of faith. However much our love for one another deepens, I promise to love God even more than I love you. I ask you to love God even more than you love me, that our growing love for him will draw us closer to one another.

The Way of the Spirit (Romans 12): I take you, Ryan/Shannon, to be my partner in Christ’s service. I will help you develop God’s gifts in you and work with you for the coming kingdom of God. I will listen with you for God’s call on our lives, that our home may be a place where the good news is proclaimed, where justice and mercy are lived, where God’s children are welcomed, and where God’s name is honored. May our marriage give him joy!

the three Ps and more

Though I’m writing this on July 25 I’m not going to be able to post it for a while. For a week now I’ve been immersed in intense TEFL training (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) and team-building activities, along with 250 other TeachOverseas teachers. It’s been a lot of fun, but exhausting too. We’re ensconced at William Carey International University in Pasadena, CA – I’m back in a dorm room, eating at a dining hall! My typical schedule is an 8:00 “Discovery Group” discussion with 5-10 teachers. We have guiding questions each day addressing issues as varied as political perspective and Biblical authority. At 9:00 we move into the large group TEFL session with all the teachers. I’m learning a great deal about how to teach English in these sessions. The most difficult thing so far is the 80/20 ratio of student speech to teacher speech that they recommend for the language classroom. After the big group session we break into smaller, regional TEFL sessions (I’m with Central Europe, for example). After lunch we have a 1:30 session that can cover language and culture of the countries we’ll be working in, team dynamics, or other various things. At 3:45 we find out our teaching assignments for the evening, and we start planning our lessons. Immediately after dinner (if we have time to eat!) we head to our practicum site where we teach our lessons to local immigrants (or fellow teachers if there aren’t enough students). After we get back we have a debriefing of the day with the same small group with which we started.

Needless to say, it keeps me busy. I am learning a lot, though! The three Ps in the title refers to the way the suggest we plan our English classes – presentation (giving students new material), practice (reviewing and drilling the new material), production (student-centered creative language production using new material). The heavy focus is on getting to the elusive production stage (how else can you reach that annoying 80/20 ratio?). This is just the tip of the iceberg – from different learning styles to Bloom’s taxonomy, from classroom management to methods of assessment, I’m getting a crash course on how to be a teacher. What keeps me sane in all this is the interaction with the other teachers – they’re great! I get to have wonderful daily conversations about how Christians should interact with a foreign culture or about the role of traditional grammar in language education (linguistic descriptivists of the world unite!). This is what we talk over lunch – how a Christian should react when placed in an educational system that traditionally disciplines by public embarrassment and shame. I feel very blessed to be in this type of environment, at least until August 22 when it’s off to Budapest!

ridin’ the rails

As a kid I had a fascination with trains, but then who didn’t? I’m writing this as I ride south on the Amtrak Coast Starlight through California’s Central Valley. We’re flying by apricot orchards, lettuce fields, almond trees, and all kinds of other crops. There are downsides to train travel: it takes a long time, the food is exorbitantly expensive, kids on the train can be incredibly annoying. But what you can’t beat is the view. In some ways it’s even better than a road trip because train tracks go places cars don’t. As we wound our way through the Sierras last night some of the views literally took my breath away. I can’t wait until we get out to the coast this afternoon. I love the feeling of history I get when I ride the train. They have all sorts of old western connotations for me (I half expect us to get held-up by bandits!). Having read enough cowboy novels to know just how important the train was to early westward expansion, I wonder about the train routes. How did one little town get the train station that turned it into the county seat and local hub of industry, while another town got passed over and remains mostly a Western ghost town? Of course these decisions were not usually arbitrary, but it’s easy to get fatalistic about it. Could the train have made a difference for some of those little hamlets? We’ll never know. (For those who are interested, the train just went in between two buildings of the Blue Diamond Almond factory in Sacramento!) The one thing I wish the train still had is a real caboose with an open balcony. How fun would it be to stand outside and watch the country go by with all the smells and sounds that go along with the sights? (Except, maybe, in dairy country) Of course all this Americana might come flooding back in a few months when I’m stuck in Hungary longing for some good old American scenery. Maybe Hungarian trains will have open cabooses.

nomad

I’m fortunate to be able to spend this week tootleing around western Washington, visiting friends and enjoying the scenic beauty of this amazing state. I went to Deception Pass last night – the channel of water that separates Whidby Island from the Washington mainland and expands out to form the vast expanse of Puget Sound. It’s only about a quarter mile wide, but the water is over 220 feet deep at the base of the channel. This means the massive tides moving through the narrow space give the current terrific power – you can see it in the eddies that swirl on the surface, and the hundreds of whirlpools and “boiling pots.” We saw a harbor seal surface and swim against the current for a few moments before submerging and rocketing out to the Pacific like a torpedo (the tide was going out!). It’s called Deception Pass because Cpt. George Vancouver couldn’t believe that this tiny channel was not a river, but the northern entrance to the sound. When his scouting boat came back with that information thus proving the land mass in front of him was actually a large island, Vancouver thoughtfully named the island for the captain of that scouting expedition, John Whidby.

I’m writing this on the ferry ride from Whidby over to Port Townsend on the Olympic Peninsula (it’s amazing where you can get wireless internet these days!). I haven’t seen any Orcas yet – I guess they’re not too common on this side of the island. I have only a week before I’m off for California and my ESL training, so this chance to see some of the most beautiful parts of Washington is especially sweet. I’m taking lots of pictures to help me overcome the bouts of homesickness that are about 5 months away.

I had an interesting talk with my friend Jon last night about what home means for our generation. We were in the only pub that’s open in tiny Coupeville, WA after 9:00 pm, along with the four regulars. Our chat was informed by a thoughtful book we’ve both read, Searching For Home, by M. Craig Barnes. Jon was a Geography/Environmental Studies major at Calvin, and has spent a lot of time thinking about how different places affect people’s sense of identity, both individually and collectively. Our conclusion (in line with Barnes’) is that many young people today grow up without a sense of home that is tied to a particular place or community. The world of the family farm or small town community is rapidly disappearing, giving way to the impersonal suburban community. Instead my generation finds its sense of identity in relationships. I am not a Pennsylvanian, a Washingtonian, or even an American as much as I am part of a group of friends who scattered all over the world.

On one level I’m thankful because it means we’re not looking to money, status, or possessions to define ourselves, to give us a sense of place. (On a side note, I’m constantly amazed at how little we care about money – it’s ambivalence that borders on irresponsibility.) The problem is that we idolize those relationships and let them determine self-worth. What we want more than financial stability or career success is love, acceptance, and inclusion (and that includes unconditional acceptance – love no matter what we decide to do). The problem, of course, is that our true identity is only found in being a child of God. We are his workmanship, created in his image to do good works that he has planned in advance for us. I may be a nomad, but that is the one home I’ll always have.

of greed and guilt

As a Calvinist I deal with guilt a lot. It seems like every religious tradition claims guilt as its own (how many Catholic guilt, Lutheran guilt, Baptist guilt, or even Jewish guilt jokes have you heard over the years?). It’s sad to me because the thing to be proud of, the thing we should be fighting to claim, is grace. That’s another post though – the point is I’m good at guilt. My liberal anti-consumerist tendencies have prompted many good things (consistent use of buses, libraries instead of bookstores whenever possible, and trying to get secondhand goods if I can), but I can never go far enough for myself. I’ve trained myself to feel guilty whenever even a twinge of desire stirs in my heart. I (internally) condemn Christians who I see as too affluent (imagine what the majority of the world’s Christians would do if they met me!), because they have nice things.

My point in bringing this up is to say I’ve decided I want an ipod, and I’ve decided not to feel guilty about that. It’s basic but important to say that music’s a good gift from God (as I sit here listening to Jack Johnson I heartily say amen to myself!). The same applies to technology. Obviously not all technology is good (same with music), but it’s a tool that can be used for great good. This means ipods are not inherently evil (unless Apple, as a multinational corporation, is evil – but I’ve decided that I can’t avoid supporting big businesses, nor should I boycott them completely. I should simply be aware of the struggles of small local businesses and seek to support them as much as I can).

The question remains: do I have a genuine need for an ipod? Need vs. want. What is the role of desire in Christian life? Couldn’t the money go toward something more worthwhile? But then, I could healthily survive on only rice, beans, and various fruits and veggies. Am I wrong to spend money on chicken, cheddar, or any of the other “luxury” foods I could live without? These questions genuinely give me a headache.

Another issue in play here is the reinforcement of individualism that comes with the ipod culture. I write this as I sit in a Seattle coffeehouse (The Green Bean) and the two people who sit nearest me are both listening to ipods, socially isolated and cut off even from the previously mentioned Jack Johnson.

For me, it keeps coming back to my robust doctrine of creation. We can affirm the goodness of God’s gifts to us by enjoying them and using them for his glory (how to use an ipod for God’s glory – hmmmmm, that’s “a whole nother” question). When you give someone a gift how do you want them to respond? So it still makes my stomach queasy, and I wouldn’t stand up and publicly declare it in this coffeehouse, but I want an ipod and I don’t feel guilty about it… almost.

welcome memories

It's come to my attention that I might have a few new readers in my little corner of the cyber village. It's good to have you here, and I look forward to your comments! Today I spent the good part of the day sifting through the stacks of "stuff" that accumulated in my room over the years. It was kind of like an archeological dig - slowly picking through layers of old birthday cards, 11th grade history papers, programs from middle school band concerts, and all kinds of junk trying to use it to reconstruct who I was back then! Some comical moments included discovering my sisters gave me the same birthday card on my 11th and 13th birthday, and gathering all the postcards my parents have sent me in their travels into one four inch tall stack. It was impressive. I was also amazed at how many friendships I've been blessed with over the years. Many people have been influential in my life, and most of them are represented in the two boxes of keepsakes I'm saving (yes, I narrowed it down to just two!). I look forward to pulling those out in 15 years or so and reminding myself of all those great people. Maybe I'll have kids to tell all the great stories to...

As for the mundane details, I'm still at home with my parents where I'm getting to spend a lot of time catching up with them. It is most definitely not like the last time I lived here (summer before I started at Calvin - I was 18!), but I love the new "Matt-is-an-adult-now" dynamic. (That may be a future post.) I've been spending a lot of time trying to get things prepared for the move to Hungary, both organizing the loose ends of my life here and trying to prepare for life there. July 14 is the big day when I catch the train to LA for my training, so until then it will be more trips down memory lane while sorting through the accumulated junk of my life (so far the cutest find has been the two get well cards my sisters made for me when I was in the hospital for my heart surgery - their Crayola skills were substantial even back then!).

life stages

As I mentioned, I’m now a graduate but I’m not currently employed. This makes me feel post-college, pre-life. However, I’m pretty sure I’ll feel pre-life for a good long time yet. I think it was John Lennon who said, “life is what happens when you’re making other plans” (insert Office joke here), and I think that’s probably true. One of my favorite lines to use when people ask me about graduation is to tell them that when we all had our degrees conferred upon us I felt a wave of wisdom and maturity wash over the room, and that it lasted a good 15 seconds. The truth is that I do feel different. I feel more self-conscious about wearing flip-flops and t-shirts every day, I feel guilty about living off my parents for these 2 months, and I don’t seem to enjoy Adam Sandler movies anymore. In our culture where marriage is occurring later and later if at all, I think graduating is the true right of passage. It seems like the (nearly) universal experience that marks us as adults. I have to say I’ve especially noticed it in my church. It doesn’t help that I’m one of the few, if not the only, person between the ages of 18 and 35 at many of my congregation’s activities. Lots of people remember me as the bratty arrogant 16 year old I was, but many are starting to treat me differently. I even found a 45 year-old father of three who I look up to as a wise role model asking for my advice. How confusing! As I live in the done-with-school but not-yet-working limbo I’ll try to enjoy the fact that I can be an adult if I want, but nobody will say anything if I sleep until 11 and stay in my pajamas all day.

i'm back

As my 6 faithful readers will have noticed, I haven’t blogged in a while. I’ve come up with several excuses like I was testing the faithfulness of my regular readers, I had nothing to write about, or I was blogging under another name (specifically pretending to be a young female lawyer in Baltimore). Of course none of that could be farther from the truth – I could never even pretend to be a lawyer, I have a great deal to write about, and I’m not too concerned with the regularity of my readers (though I love you all). The truth is that things got a bit busy this spring, and when it came to making a choice the blog got the knife. But now I’m a college graduate without regular commitments until July 15, so you’ll be hearing from me much more regularly (as in, at all). Expect future posts on such fascinating subjects as what it feels like to be a college graduate, the future of a virtual Thorubos, never being able to go home again, the appearance of George W at my commencement and my resulting appearance on CNN, why I want an ipod and don’t feel guilty about that, “a whole nother” blog, riding cross-country trains, and why I love Seattle truly and deeply. Thanks for being patient – it’s good to be back.

spring break!

Running Diary: Barcelona/Toulouse 2006

Tuesday afternoon: What a day! I knew I shouldn’t put everything off until the last minute, but I was just spent last night. I probably shouldn’t have gone to Prague last weekend, since that’s what made me so tired yesterday. I got back from school last night (where I hadn’t gotten anything done, thanks to Carice’s call) and I just wanted to crash. I decided to put everything off until the morning and just go to bed. So, at 5:30 this morning I was up and at it – taking a quick shower, packing, and typing up the questions for the big speaking test. I managed to get it all done by 7:30, and Tracy and I started in on the test. The kids did pretty well, with nobody failing this time (not even Feri!). Everything would have been fine, except they had to make us wait for some of the tests because they had to make sure our classes were covered. It gave us some appreciated downtime in the middle of the tests, but it meant we didn’t finish until 12:20. My flight left at 1:30. I had called ahead for a taxi to arrive at 12:15, so I dashed downstairs and hopped in. It was a nerve-racking ride because I knew it would be tight. I dashed up to the check in (no line), heard them call my flight as I went through security, heard it called a second time as I went through customs, and made it to the gate at last call. I was very happy to be on that plane. Now I’m here. I’ve found my way to the hostel and I’m about to go out and get train tickets for the trip to France (I hope).

Wednesday morning: I’m in a room full of sleeping people – how funny. I forgot that nobody gets up early at hostels.

Wednesday evening: Yesterday I went to get my tickets and had some problems. First the guy didn’t seem to understand where I wanted to go. When I showed him my paper with the info on it he caught on. He got me my tickets there all right, but he didn’t think there was a train from Toulouse to Norbonne Tuesday morning. I asked him if he could check, so he did and booked it. Then he tried to get the Norbonne to Barcelona ticket and told me they only had first class. I told him to go for it – anything to get on that train – and he tells me the train isn’t running because of a strike. Now I own a completely useless Toulouse to Norbonne ticket (which I’ve paid for) since I can’t get from Norbonne to Barcelona in time to get my flight. I look at him pleadingly and say, Monday? He checks and gets me on Monday trains and refunds my other ticket. What a pain, but now I have to spend another night in Barcelona (an expensive proposition).

After that I walked back up La Rambla to the hostel, stopping for a cup of coffee at an outdoor café. I forgot how many street performers there are in this city! I saw magicians, mimes, musicians of all types, artists, people dressed up as statues, and even a juggler. I changed at the hostel, and went out for the legendary Barcelona tapas. I found a place that looked cool and ended up sitting outside munching on monchego cheese and tomato/garlic bread and sipping beer while a pan flute and guitar duo played Hey Jude. I felt very cultured. For dinner I wandered into a random restaurant down towards the water and had paella and sangria. I’m still not sure I ate the king prawn the right way (it was huge!), but the mussels were especially tasty. After a bit of walking I headed back to bed early.

Today I saw the Gaudi highlights: La Sagrada Familia and Parc Guell. I paid to go in the church, of course, and was so glad I did. Much of it was just as I remembered, and much of it had changed. The nave’s vaulted ceiling is almost done and they’re starting work on the glory façade which is at the bottom of the nave. The passion façade is starting to look dirty, and the nativity one is really getting dark, but I read that they plan to do a big cleaning as the building completes so it will all look the same when it’s dedicated and opened. I was able to see even more meaningful detail and symbolism in the building now. What were random grape-looking things last time are now part of a Eucharistic theme in the nave. The funky columns supporting the nave are now tree-like giving the nave a forest feel. They say it’ll be done in 2020. I’ll be amazed if they make that.

Then I wandered over to the park. I remember it being at the top of a big hill, but last time we definitely drove there. What a hike! It was pretty crowded, being such a nice day, but I still stopped to read a while in the shade. I wanted to find the exact spot where we took the great pictures last time, and I think I did, but my zoom is just too weak to take the same photos. That and the light wasn’t as good at midday. We’ll see when I upload them. After that I grabbed some forgettable pasta for lunch and hopped on the metro down to the beach. I spent the late afternoon basking in the sun, reading, and sticking my toes in some really cold water. Looking out at the Mediterranean I couldn’t help thinking of the line from Shawshank, “I hope the Pacific’s as blue as it is in my dreams.” It was gorgeous.

Thursday Morning: Here I am, on the train again. Some differences between Spanish/French trains and Hungarian trains: 1) All seats are reserved on all trains. This has its advantages (no fighting for good spots, more orderly process of getting on, no worrying about getting a seat when you get to the station) and its disadvantages (no choice in seat location, bummer if you’re next to the snorer, have to get tickets in advance to guarantee your seat); 2) The aforementioned seats have great lumbar support; 3) Clean, clean, clean, clean; 4) More luggage room; 5) No fun 6-8 person compartments.

Last night I was going to write some, but I was too tired. This is becoming less of a running diary and more of a plain old diary. How boring. I guess it’s unrealistic to do a running diary for a whole trip. I got in at about 1:30 after participating in an organized hostel event. I was skeptical, but I met some cool Chicago guys in my room and they convinced me. We left at 8 and went to a tapas place first. They were ok (the chorizo was the best, I thought), but the sangria was the best I’ve had! The two Chicago guys, a DC guy, a Kiwi, and I made friends with three IU girls from Indy and Detroit. They were friendly, but about as intelligent as rocks. I was surprised to hear they were actually grad students until they mentioned they were all in an MBA program together. My response: that figures. Obviously not all business types are dumb and shallow, but why are so many of the ones I meet like that?

After the Tapas we went to a Flamenco show, which was pretty cool. I was disappointed that there was only one woman who danced (I figured there would at least be two dancers!), but she was outstanding and the music was really cool. I’ve never seen feet move that fast in person (and if not for that stupid White Christmas movie it would have been an absolute first)! She was incredible, and so passionate. The singing was all about emotion, not quality of sound. Or maybe I should say it’s about creating a certain sort of pleading, overwrought sound. My favorite part, though, was the guitar player. All the stereotypes of Flamenco guitar playing were there. I couldn’t help thinking of the “Spanish guitar” songs Nathan and I used to sing to Miriam last year (“Miriam! Oh, Miriam! We did not wash our dishes!”).

From there it was on to a bar where we got a free shot: some sort of apple concoction. The highlight there was going three for three on ordering girly drinks. Yet another reason to be thankful for my sisters (A tip for those of you watching at home: coconut drinks almost always go over well. Just remember the adage, Malibu will never fail you.) After that we walked a bit to a dance club. The club was forgettable (I only stayed long enough to get a free shot there – another apple concoction – and to be polite), but on the way we passed a sweet brass band playing in the middle of La Rambla. The group had strange instrumentation (trumpets, trombone, euphonium, a mellaphone-type thing, a flugel, and one sweet tuba), strange zoot suit-ish costumes, and played/improvised a sizzling rendition of besame mucho in a Ska/Dixieland style. I loved it, especially because the tuba was seriously digging into his baseline.

So I didn’t stay at the club long, but headed for home, passing some chanting and dancing Espanyol fans. It’s amazing how alive the city was at 1:30 in the morning – I even passed a few families walking with kids in strollers! How strange! It was an early morning today to catch the 8:45 train, but I had time to stop for an unremarkable croissant and a terrific cup of coffee. Now I’m flying north toward the Pyrenees on the train. It looks like another beautiful day!

Later Thursday Morning: I take back anything bad I said about the Pyrenees. They’re real mountains and I would not like to bike up them. Also, Miles Davis’ Sketches of Spain was a great album to accompany this trip.

Thursday Almost-Noon: We’ve been passing by some amazing ocean views, and now that we’re in France. The blueness of the water still gets me. Somehow I expected everything to immediately turn ultra-snobby when we crossed the border. No noticeable change yet! Also, the customs guy made fun of my passport picture saying he wasn’t going to let me in because I have so much more hair (facial and otherwise) than I did then. Sweet!

Thursday Afternoon: Now I’m on the train from Norbonne to Toulouse (via Carcasonne), and I’ve traded ocean vistas for red earth vineyards. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen so many packed together. It’s like Red Mountain in Kennewick, only over the space of miles and miles. With the mountains in the distance and fields upon fields of rolling countryside being broken only by the occasional row of ash trees or terracotta roofed village, it’s downright provincial. I wonder if the origins of that word are with the Provence region of France. It would make sense, it seems.

On a side note, I originally thought I would be seated next to a smelly Frenchman for this leg of the journey, but it turns out he wasn’t sitting in the right seat, and now a lovely young Spanish woman is next to me. I might try to strike up a conversation when (if) she stops reading Rubias de Nueva York (“Blondes of New York”). High literature, I’m sure.

A Tiny Bit Later Thursday Afternoon: So we’re at the station in Carcasonne, and I’m quite pleased with the look of the town. It looks like a sleepy little university town (and the guy who just got on the train looks positively crazy professor-ish. I’m especially glad because one of the all-time favorite key chains in my extensive collection comes from this very town. It’s a little medieval cross Dad got me when he was here.

Also, I talked to the Spanish girl a bit, about as much as my Spanish allowed. She’s a university student from Barcelona in economics, and very interesting. Our language barrier has been reached, sadly, and the profound existential questions I would ask (which Barcelona soccer club do you support?) are beyond me.

Late Thursday Afternoon: I’m in Toulouse now. Sam told me that I should visit Jacobins in my free time this afternoon, and that I might want to figure out who is buried there. He was so right! I got to see the final resting place of Saint Thomas Aquinas! As I stood in front of his tomb, all I could recall from the chunks of the Suma I read for Dr. Smit were his proofs for the existence of God (cosmological, etc.). Too bad I never found any of them convincing. To be honest I appreciate Aquinas more for his methodology and approach than for what he actually said.

Thursday Night: After spending the afternoon wandering around the city I conclude that there are tons of young people here, and everything’s made of brick. I like it! The two churches I visited were cool (Jacobins and St. Sermin), especially on Maundy Thursday. There were a lot of people praying in the cathedral.

I met Sam in the square, and then had pizza and went to a concert with three of his buddies (Ross, Alex, and Juni). Ross, another engineer in his grad program, is a PSU alum, so we exchanged State College stories. That was a lot of fun, but I think we bored the rest of the group (Sam and the two Romanian girls). The concert was really interesting and unique. Dionysus, the first band we saw was extremely eclectic. They did it all, from fairly heavy rock-core to ukulele, banjo, and bell trios. I loved that they were always fresh and surprising. Everything seemed exciting, and it made for a terrific live show. I could tell the lead singer is an obviously tremendous performer, even though I didn’t understand a word he said. The second group, Moos and Haki, were pretty shallow. It seemed like formulaic happy/pop, only a notch above the Britney Spears or Jessica Simpsons of the world. When they came out later with a different background band (traded in a synthesizer for an accordion and an acoustic guitar) they sounded a lot better and far more organic. I enjoyed them then, bit we were too tired to stay very long.

Another observation: French people smoke a lot. I think more than Hungarians.

Friday Morning: I slept in, I took a long shower, I had a great shave, and I put on the last of my clean clothes for the trip (unless I do laundry). It’s gonna be a great day!

Friday Afternoon: I did a little site-seeing on my own this morning (saw the mayor’s palace, the arc du triumphe, and got camera batteries) and ended by stumbling into a Good Friday mass at a cathedral. I didn’t understand a word of it, but knew the melody to one of the hymns! I had almost forgotten it was Good Friday, and this small and serious gathering of people reminded me. It was pretty cool to follow what was going on (scripture reading, prayer, confession, etc.) even though I couldn’t follow what was going on.

I met Sam after he finished work (at noon) and we had lunch at a South Western French restaurant. I had fish (yummm!) followed by chocolate mousse and he had Duck heart and a meringue floating in milk custard for desert. It was tasty. We talked a lot about French food, and I can understand why this country turns people into gourmands. After that we went to the train station to figure out where we’re going tomorrow, and then rented bikes for the afternoon. Very shortly we’re going to go off for a ride!

Friday Night: It’s been a long day and I’m tired. We rode all over town, which is a terrific way to see things, and then went off along the river. Our goal was to wind our way downstream and then cut back, away from the river, to meet up with some of Sam’s friends to play Frisbee. The problem is that cutting away from the river always involves going uphill, and in this case going up a big bluff. It was rough going, but the downhill afterward was very fun. We eventually met the other four guys and played a bit of three on three ultimate (Les Americans vs. Les Frances) until Sam and I had to leave for church. We whipped back into the city, changed our clothes, and dashed off to church, making it just before the service started. It was in French.

They did the last seven words of Christ, and I could follow a lot of it (thanks to Sam’s help in pointing out Bible verses and such. I could even understand almost all of the songs (because I knew them in English or because they were so many cognates)! It was kind of fun to see how much I could pick up (until the sermon, that is!). I talked with some of the young people after, including Susanna from Costa Rica, who was very patient with my Spanish. I also met a PhD student of bird behavior. We had a great chat about his work, but it was a bit R-rated (for bird reproduction), so I’ll save that.

Sam and I rode back into town, and grabbed some crepes for dinner. They were delicious! They were also perfectly accompanied by Normandy hard cider. Sadly the combination of a long bike ride, an intense Frisbee match, some good crepes, and lots of great cider has made me too sleepy to continue.

Saturday Morning: My butt still hurts from that bike ride.

Saturday Noon: We spent the morning trying to find some internet access, first unsuccessfully at Sam’s school, and eventually at an internet café. The highlights of the morning included returning the bikes (thank goodness!) and breakfast at a real French bakery. I’ve always been a bread lover, but this is bread heaven. I could eat French baguettes for the rest of my life and never complain!

Saturday a tiny bit after noon: We’re on the train to Courdes sur Ciel, a tiny town in the middle of nowhere, but this is a very popular train. Every square inch of floor space is full of people, and Sam and I are sitting in the aisle facing each other eating our sandwiches for lunch. Xian’s had to stand the whole trip! It’s uncomfortable, but it’ll be a good story some day.

Saturday later afternoon: Courdes is lovely, and the rain held off almost all day! It’s 5 and it just started. The afternoon started well when a French kid from our train offered to have his Dad give us a ride to Courdes on their way home. It was nice, especially since it was a 5 km uphill walk! The town is perched on top of a small but steep hill in the middle of a valley which gives it an impressive view of the surrounding countryside and an imposing look as you approach it. We walked up through the town, parts of which date back to the 12^th century, and then explored a bit at the top. Its natural defenses were supplemented by a system of 5 walls and lots of interesting gates, so we had a lot of fun imagining what it would be like to attack the town. It’s got a lot of character and great views of idyllic French countryside. We had a cup of coffee at the top, worked our way back down, and then ducked into another coffee shop as the rain hit. We’re taking cover here for about an hour until our train back to Toulouse. Sam, Xian, and I have had some great conversations today about linguistics and language, faith, morality, and lots of other profound topics. It’s been very enjoyable.

Saturday Night: Joel from church met us at the train station and we set off to find a pub where we could watch the Toulouse-Paris rugby match. We ended up in a real popular team bar filled with fans that showed the match on a big screen. The atmosphere was great, even if we had to stand the whole time! Toulouse played aggressively, and what they lacked in size and strength they made up for with speed and passion. Someone really lit a fire under them! They could never put it across for a try, but they scored 5 field goals and won 15-0 showing great spirit on defense. It wasn’t the prettiest match (the rain didn’t help), but I had a blast. Ross (the PSU guy) joined us for the match and we all went out for kebabs afterward. It felt like a true guys’ night out!

Sunday Morning: Happy Easter! I slept with the window wide open last night and consequently woke up this morning unable to breathe. It’s the consequence of all the green around, I guess!

Sunday barely after noon: I went to Sam’s church again this morning, but this time Ross, Alex, and Juni came with us. The two girls, being Romanians who’ve never gone to church regularly, really didn’t know what to expect. We had to allay some of their fears as we walked to church (as we also munched on more French pastries – heaven on Earth!).

The service was a nice and festive (a little ensemble with a violin and flute complimented the piano nicely) with a heavy emphasis on music. We even sang some traditional Easter hymns I recognized like Christ the Lord is Risen Today and Thine be the Glory, but of course in French. Some times I sang quietly in English, though. I met even more people at church this time, especially young students. There are so many in Toulouse! I chatted with some French girls who had spent exchange years in the US (Traverse City, MI and Oklahoma), some Swiss guys who were in town for vacation, a few Americans, an Australian, a UT girl from Texas, and a Jamaican girl! It was also nice to see Joel and Susanna again! I wish I could have understood more (any!) of what was being said, but that’s ok. It was more about the cultural experience than anything.

On our way back from church we split up with the girls going to the bakery for bread and cake and the boys going to the market for fruits, vegetables, meat, and cheese. After we picked up a bottle of wine we had all the makings of a fine picnic. We’re off momentarily to find a nice spot along the river.

Sunday nap-time: This easily ranked with the best picnics I’ve ever been on: French baguettes (nice and soft on the inside!) with Toulouse sausage, powerful gruyere cheese (or brie), and super fresh tomato slices followed by incredibly sweet strawberries and slices of dried pineapple, apple “cake” that was really more like pie, all washed down with a Bordeaux sauvignon blanc. What a feast! Sam and I threw his Frisbee for a bit, but now he and Ross are throwing and I just feel like sleeping. It’s been fun to find out a bit about Romania from Juni and Alex, and hear about their transition to life in Western Europe. They have the Eastern Europe sense of humor, though, with its self-deprecating irony. I think I’ll just lay back in the sun and doze.

Sunday early evening: We met one of Sam’s friends at another park near the one were we ate because we thought he was playing “plunko.” It turns out he wasn’t actually playing, but just watching the Toulouse championships going on. “Plunko” is very similar to bocce, but it’s played on a rough gravel terrain so the technique is to lob the balls in toward the target, as opposed to rolling. The guys we watched for a while were incredible! They were especially good at tossing it forcefully in with back spin so it would knock their opponent’s ball out but leave theirs sitting in its place. I really wanted to try, though! Bummer…

Sunday night: Ugh. I went out to dinner with Sam and Xian for the big French meal. We’ve been planning this all weekend. Sam told me I had to try the specialty of the region: Cassoule. It’s a casserole of white beans, chunks of duck, and sausage that they bake for about a day. Complimented by a nice hearty red wine, it was a terrific meal, but I feel like I’ve got a rock in my stomach! I don’t want to do anything but sit, which is good since we’re gonna go watch a movie with Juni, Alex, and Ross.

Monday morning before dawn: Sam just walked me to my train and we said goodbye. It seems like I never say exactly what I want to at goodbyes. I don’t feel like I thanked Sam as much feeling as his hospitality warranted. He took care of me all weekend, making sure I had everything I needed or wanted. I wanted to bring him something Hungarian, but never quite got around to getting it before I left. Oh well, this is what friends do, but I don’t want to be someone who takes mine for granted.

Monday morning, still early: zzzzzzzz…

Monday morning, not so early: I always want to wait to take pictures. I think, I don’t want to be bothered now – I just want to enjoy this. I assume I’ll get another chance. For example, the Pyrenees were gorgeous on the train ride up to France, but I thought I could wait until today to take some pictures. It shouldn’t be a problem: same train, same route, and the mountains sure aren’t moving. Today they’re completely clouded in. I can’t even see them.

Monday noon: I’ve arrived back in Barcelona, and the question is what I will do tonight. I was supposed to come back tomorrow since my flight is tomorrow afternoon, but the train was completely full. That means one less day with Sam (bummer!), but an extra day in Barcelona as compensation isn’t bad. But, I don’t have a room reserved for tonight. I’m thinking about trying to pull an all-nighter, but it’s daunting. It would be a great story, and could be kind of fun. Sarah Jane will probably let me leave my stuff with her so I don’t have to worry about carting around my bags. But, I just can’t do it. Even as I write this I’m deciding to go to a hostel. If my flight was in the morning, if I had gotten a good night’s sleep last night or slept on the train, and if I had someone to do it with, I think I would try it. I just keep picturing myself at 4:00 am at some dance club with a bunch of weird people checking the time every 10 minutes to see if I can go find an open coffee shop yet. I’ll bet partying all night is not nearly as cool as it’s supposed to be.

Monday early afternoon: I got a room and I feel better already. Now I’m waiting for Sarah Jane and her friend. I hope they show, but I won’t be surprised if they don’t considering the last minute nature of our planning. And, they’re here.

Monday late afternoon: Last time I was here Dad and I drove up Montjuic, as I recall. This time Sarah Jane, Leah, and I walked. It was worth it, but I’m a bit tired. It’s the best view of the city, and I forgot how cool this fortress is. All I remembered was the insane gun museum, which was still there, as evidenced by the giant anti-aircraft guns and artillery that are still here.

Monday evening: We strolled down the hill through the gardens, and my job seemed to be chief photographer for SJ and Leah. I don’t mind it – it’s just funny to me how many pictures they want. We took a metro over to the beach and sat in the sand until it started to rain a bit. The most interesting thing was this pair of brothers throwing rocks at each other. Or rather, the older one was throwing them at the younger and the younger did his best to return fire. The moment of truth came when the older one hit his sister in the head – then mom had to get involved.

Monday night: More paella and sangria! I tried to find the exact restaurant that Dad and I went to 5 years ago, but couldn’t. At least we were in the same neighborhood (Barceloneta)! I don’t think it was as good as last time, but it’s hard to know after so long. We spent most of the evening discussing movies, actually, and I was made to expound on my theory of acceptable chick flicks. It seemed to meet with some approval. I’m back in the hostel for a reasonably early night (at least early by Barcelona standards).

Tuesday morning: I’m sitting at the north end of Las Ramblas at an outdoor table at the Café Zurich, enjoying a coffee and the bright sunshine. It’s another glorious day (the weather’s been so good)! I’m not sure what I’m going to do with my last few hours in Barcelona, but I think I want a new shirt. Perhaps I’ll buy a shirt.

Tuesday afternoon: I’m on the plane, soaring back over Barcelona after taking off above the blue Mediterranean. I can see La Sagrada Familia and Montjuic and all the other wonderful sites. It’s been a lovely trip, but I think I’m ready to get back to my routine. It was especially good to see Sam. And, I got the new shirt; it’s blue.

he regresado

The big news is that I'm back from Florida and I'm hairless. On a whim I decided to shave my head (in part because I know other things may prevent me from doing this in the future, like having a job or a wife, for example). Perhaps my favorite part of this has been watching people's responses. It usually starts with their eyes getting very big, then their mouth opens for a few seconds as they try to figure out what to say, and then they always ask why. The fact that it's always the first question makes me think this may not have been the best move, but I'm not too worried. The truth is that I don't have a good reason, so I've been making them up. I've tried, "I wanted to loose weight," or "I wanted to be more aerodynamic to increase lift." I like the classic, "I lost a fight with a lawnmower," but the most laughs come when I say "I just wanted to look tougher." I don't know why.

On a serious note, I was deeply shocked and saddened to hear news of the untimely passing of Stan Grenz last week. I was blessed by the one short opportunity I had to meet Stan and his wife Edna in January. He was generous and open with us, a group of college students trying to figure out our calling. I particularly appreciated how willing he was to share his personal struggles and fears about ministry. His love and affection for his wife was obvious. His combination of wisdom and compassion was an example of truly living a theology.

As we enter Holy Week we are reminded of the now-but-not-yet-ness of the kingdom. As Ann Weems says, we only understand the alleluias of Easter because of the darkness of Good Friday. The forgotten definition of the word passion is "the state of being acted upon." It comes fromt he same root as passive. Perhaps as we approach Easter we should let go of constantly wanting to do, to go, to act in the name of Christ. The Reformed tradition is all about doing - but maybe we should focus on being this passion-tide. Dean has written about letting go of our kingdom-building aspirations, and it's easy to get pulled in the direction of "making a difference" and "changing the world." As I think about Christ letting go of "equality with God" this Holy Week, maybe I could let go of my pride and remember passion is about being acted upon and not acting.

I'm off

I know I haven't been posting much lately, and for that I apologize. I'm off today for a spring break camping trip in the Florida panhandle. I've never done this before so I'm very excited! But it means I've been quite busy trying to get everything together before I go and haven't had time to post about Thorobus, Calvin basketball, Jurgen Moltmann, my new haircut, the new Anne LaMott, or any of the other thigns on my mind. I think things will be calmer when I get back, so until then...

the bad and the good

It's only noon on Saturday and it's already been a busy weekend! A lot of things have been on my mind lately, which means they're likely to show up in my blog.

Kent and I planned a Friday hymnsing chapel for yesterday, and he's blogged about it here and here. Yesterday morning I got to Calvin and found out that a Calvin student had passed away suddenly in what may have been suicide. I know of no more tragic death than suicide, and we didn't hesitate before changing our plans for the service. The original theme had been Christ's fulfillment of the OT sacrificial system through his role as the sacrificial lamb of God slain for our sins - lots of substitutionary atonement. A lot of the songs we had picked fit with a service of lament, but one of the things we had to change was the intercessory prayer. The dominant emotions as I sat down to re-write were confusion and anger. I didn't feel like leading worship, I didn't feel like worshipping, I didn't feel like doing anything. About then I remembered, it's not about me. I had the opportunity to lead my community in worship at a time when many of them didn't have anywhere else to turn but worship. I got to voice their cries to God when some of them didn't have the words to speak. What an awesome privilege and responsibility! Of course it brought me back to the chapel Kent and I had to lead on the morning we found out about Daryl's accident. Please pray for Rachelle Goedhart's family and friends as we are here at Calvin.

Then yesterday afternoon I was fortunate to meet with one of my favorite groups of people: the Lilly Vocation Grant Committee. This is the third year in a row I've had the chance to share with them about my experiences with Lilly grant programs. I know several of them from other contexts, so it's been a joy to have them follow my vocational journey, encouraging and supporting me along the way. It also provided me with a chance to reflect on how far I've come in these three years. When I think back to who I was when I started the Worship Apprentice program, he doesn't look too much like the person I am now as an alum of WA and Jubilee Fellows (For more insight into that young impressionable version of me you can read my first attempt at a blog of sorts - the 02-03 WA Journal I wrote). The best part was getting to have lunch with Sandy Vander Ploeg, a committee member who's my Mom's best friend from high school and college days. Mom will be so jealous.

For some unrelated reasons I was a bit grumpy when I got home last night, and it turned out my roommate Nathan was too. We decided the best course of action was to go out and stuff ourselves with excellent Mexican food, which we did. We've been spending more time together lately - it's good to live with a solid brother in Christ like Nate. We had project neighborhood class on urban socialization this morning. We were just getting into a good discussion of how to find a balance between a personally-focused evangelism-based Christianity and a societally-focused inclusive but doctrinally watered down Christianity when we ran out of time. Next time we get to talk about white flight and gentrification! In other news, the Calvin men's basketball team beat Wheaton in the first round of the NCAA D-III tournament. Take that you Evangelicals! And the Dodgers lost a spring training game to the Braves on a botched double-play attempt in the bottom of the ninth that would have won the game. Again, those dumb Dodgers...

neo-calvinism

The big news around here is that our little blog-ommunity has been labeled Neo-Calvinist. I'm not sure what that means since I haven't had time to investigate Mr. Strauss' blog yet. Kent made a typically witty comment about the label, but the whole situation brings up some interesting questions for me.

The first is inevitable: how is a neo-Calvinist different from your regular, stock Calvinist? Is it simply the fact that I'm under the age of 25? Second, am I really a Calvinist? I grew up in a very Calvinist home (for which I'm grateful - thanks Mom and Dad), but as a 21 year old student I'm supposed to be searching a bit, right? Right now I'm particularly struggling with issues of determinism, predestination, foreknowledge, and free will (thank you Prof. Crump), and the Calvinist view is not necessarily cutting the mustard at the moment. I know my anfechtung is pretty insignificant in the big picture, but I felt like it would be a good idea to set the record straight. Third, does this mean people are actually reading this? The internet is such a tricky place because of the pseudo-anonymity. I was pretty confident the readers of this blog were limited to Kent, Bethany, Dean, my sister (maybe), and my mom (probably). Not that I mind - what I put up here is for public consumption. But the aforementioned are the audience I have in mind when I write. Now I'll have these muddled ideas about who I'm writing to (and delusions of grandeur, for that matter). Oh well, this is the way things go. I had been planning to make this blog a bit more public next fall anyway, so that when I'm in Hungary people can keep up with what's going on. (Have I mentioned I'm moving to Hungary next fall?) So, Mr. Strauss, I hope you enjoy your look into what is really more like a cabal than a coterie.

On a side note, the first Dodgers update of the year is that they're 1-1 after 2 Spring Training games. Of course, like the Dodgers, they won their first game on the pitching of a whole bunch of people nobody's ever heard of, and today Jeff Weaver, the guy who two years ago was going to be their next big ace, got shelled for the loss. His salary is probably 5 times what they pay the 4 guys who pitched well for them yesterday. Those dumb Dodgers...

Jubilee!

I'm back from my whirlwind trip to Pittsburgh for the Jubilee Conference run by the Coalition for Christian Outreach. It was a fantastic weekend for a number of reasons - especially catching up with old friends! The theme of Jubilee this year (and every year) is connecting your faith to what you do in the classroom, the gym, the club, the grocery store, and anywhere else (sound familiar Calvin people?). The difference is that the CCO is often giving people their first exposure to this. As a campus ministry organization that works on both secular and Christian campuses, they're teaching people for the first time that a Christian doctor does things differently because he or she is a Christian (and that doesn't mean just praying for patients either). The Saturday afternoon seminars are chosen by area of academic interest, so you can learn about teaching as a Christian, business as a Christian, politics as a Christian, etc. (Check out the list of seminars here) Again, this is nothing new for Calvin folk, but what was new and refreshing was watching other people respond to it. Their passion reminded me why this stuff is so important. We've beat the idea of a Christian worldview to death at Calvin, but the truth is that it's an important concept. Being told to engage culture with discernment causes a gag reflex for us, but I saw people this weekend being freed from a lifetime of watching and listening to crap simply because it's "Christian." I also saw people genuinely struggling to understand why the most important thing for a talented musician who is a Christian might not be to preach about Jesus in their songs. I don't want to sound to high on Calvin here, but we often take it for granted.

The main plenary speakers were the highlight for me. Again, nothing revolutionary, but solid, Biblical teaching that encouraged us to be forces for positive change by interacting with the world in the name of Jesus. The lineup included Elaine Storkey, a lecturer at Wycliffe Hall in Oxford and president of Tearfund - a international charity, Saleem Ghubril, a one-time Lebanese refugee who is now the head of the Pittsburgh Project and actually got to deliver the eulogy at Mr. Rogers' funeral (yes, that Mr. Rogers), and John Perkins, the Mississippi civil rights activist and community development worker who really needs no introduction. They were all excellent in their own ways: Storkey for raising awareness of prominent global issues (specifically international debt and global warming) and discussing a Christian response to them, Ghubril for his heartwarming and convicting challenge to get involved, and Perkins for his inspiring call to be a force for change in our communities and churches. (For more detailed bios check this out).

One of the seminars I went to was by Carl Trueman, a professor at Westminster Seminary. Now I'm not really high on Westminster, but this guy spoke on a topic that is near and dear to my heart: the idolatry of the theological practice. Scholars of theology need to talk about how to be a Christian theologian because it's not as simple as it seems. How do you keep a balance between talking about God and talking to God? How can you be a good parishioner when you know more about theology or the bible than your pastor does? And, most importantly, how do you prevent the subtle shift from worshipping God to worshipping knowledge of God? Trueman did a very nice job with his discussion, though it had the overtones of a conservative who sees himself as in constant battle with the ultra-liberal academy.

I also had another big question answered for me this weekend: yes, it is possible to modulate eight times in one song. Don't get me wrong - the worship leader was terrific and thoughtful, his band was tight, and everything was well done - but the man simple loved to modulate! He was good at it and it always felt very smooth and appropriate. Yet, I can't help wondering if it was too much. I wonder if I was the only one who noticed (I'm pretty confident I'm not). And I also wonder why nobody ever modulates down. Why can't we drop a song of confession down a half step before the last refrain to add that extra depth of despair? Can't we throw a few downward modulations in the next kyrie we sing? This is lent after all!

So, all in all, I had a wonderful weekend of Jubilee! I even got to spend an hour walking around the 'Burgh feeling homesick for Pennsylvania. Maybe I'll try to post some of my pictures later.

it's back!

On yet another unrelated side note, I'm proudly wearing my L.A. Dodgers t-shirt because pitchers and catchers report for spring training today. The Dodgers themselves don't report until the 18th, but I couldn't help myself. Only 45 days until opening day!

a word about my title

Several people (well, at least one) have asked me about the name of this blog. The Oxford English Dictionary defines bemusing as, "making utterly confused or muddled, as with intoxicating liquor; putting into a stupid stare, stupefying." Now I have a thing for syntactic ambiguity in sentences. Sentences like "Kent is cooking in the kitchen" are particularly delightful. Is Kent stirring the pot, or is he in the pot? So, back to my title, that wonderful little apostrophe leaves the meaning up for grabs.

Depending on if the "s" is possessive or the contraction, it could mean the content of this blog is stupefying, or that I am personally the intoxicating liquor. Or, with a little creativity, it could even refer to the fact that I'm "Given to or characterized by meditation; contemplative, thoughtful, dreamy" (the adjective form of musing). (On a side note, I've always wanted to be dreamy...) But my point here is that between this sort of ambiguity and the incredible synonymy of English we have an amazing language to play with and enjoy. (Another side note, "synonymy" has three "y"s in it. I can't think of any other three-"y" words, let alone a word with more than three. Anybody else have one?) So seeing English as a merely functional thing is a tragedy. As for which of those meanings I was going for when I named this blog? That's right, all of them.

KJV God?

Two thoughts from my Reformation Theology lecture:

1) Today we were told that the late Middle Ages was a time of "great upheaval and turmoil." While I'm sure this is true (Bubonic Plague, corrupt Papacy, rise of the nation state, the first rumblings of the renaissance, etc.), I feel like I've now heard every era of human history described this way. You can move straight from the Late Middle Ages into the Reformation era and on into the Enlightenment and you still have turmoil and upheaval. Then you get the Romantics and the Moderns with their vast attempts to recreate society before arriving at the wars and Postmodernity and finally our current information age - still plenty of "upheaval and turmoil" as far as I can see. When are we going to get the fact that these will be a part of life as long as we're on this side of the eschaton?

2) We got into a discussion of the importance of having scripture translated into vernacular languages which prompted our professor to talk lovingly about the King James Version he grew up on. He claimed he still has trouble addressing God as "you" (as opposed to "thou") and suggested a return to "thee"s and "thou"s might be advantageous to the church because we have no formal language for God today. The direct quote is, "We talk about God as we might talk about a rock star." I agree with him that we have no such formal language, but is a return to KJV English really the solution? Is this really a problem? When does reverence trump clarity? Can we be reverent while speaking the way we usually do? One of the things everyone says about my grandfather is that he preached in a different voice than he normally used. I'll admit that makes a lot of sense to me. I'm not advocating "thee" and "thou," but can we do something to our language that can instill a sense of awe to our worship?

objectivity in biology

This morning I sat through my first biology lecture in 6 years. It's been a while, but it's all coming back to me - especially the phospho-lipid bilayer. Today, however, we laid a little groundwork for our future discussions of cell biology. Part of that was Del Ratzsch's definition of science:

"Science is a theoretical explanatory discipline that objectively addresses natural phenomena with the general constraints that theories must be rationally connectable to generally specifiable empirical phenomena and that it normally does not leave the natural realm for the concepts employed in its explanations."

Besides being a mouthful, this brings up some interesting questions for me, primarily with my professor's view of objectivity. He claimed that in the scientific realm objectivity meant examining and addressing all data available, not just data that supports your claims. For him objectivity was not necessarily about approaching a question without prejudice or bias, except when they prevent you from examining certain data. The more I think about this way of looking at objectivity, the more I like it. We obviously have our prejudices, but objectivity is lost when they blind us to information out there.

It's got me thinking about objectivity as a form of humility. In the scientific sense, we lose it when we start to think we don't need data from certain sources. An unbiased person has the humility to acknowledge and evaluate information from all sources. Any thoughts from the peanut gallery?