Thursday, June 29, 2006
We are driving to the West Coast (all 17-hours-one-way of it) in August for a Paris family gathering in Oregon. We're going to the beach for a few days - I haven't seen the ocean since 2002. Other than the risk of the babies being sunburned, drowning, eating sand, falling off a deck, being chomped by a whale or stung by a jellyfish, or kidnapped by a granola freak, I'm sure it's going to be delightful.
Despite my feminist principles and spiritual progress toward centered acceptance, the fear that rivals all of those is that of me wearing a swimsuit. How unoriginal.
I had a nice swimsuit last fall, but I swim so much at the health club that it got destroyed by chlorine. Then I got a new one, but lost it two weeks ago - must have left it at the health club. I tried the one in the back of the closet, in the 'nylons and bridal shower sundries' box - I last remember wearing it when my six-year-old niece was a newborn. It dug into my shoulders so badly I had to stop swimming, and threw it away at the health club a few days ago. I do have a bikini, but every sane voice in my head tells me to limit it to our backyard deck when swimming with the boys. They like easy access to my belly button.
So, I need something not quite this conservative, but not quite this revealing (though both models wear their suits well). In true Minnesota cheapskate fashion, I'm having an ebay fundraiser for myself. I'm selling 17 things (except the baby stuff belongs to my friend and I owe her the profits), hoping to earn enough to buy a swimsuit. My stuff is here: please consider purchasing the Marilyn Monroe collectible ornament, or the pants my sister gave me for Christmas in a size large which I took as a personal insult, or maybe you have been searching for some used sewing patterns for a 4-year-old-girl's tunic. It's all there. I'll let you know how much I earn.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
I knew this day would come. I ignored the May deadline for fall book orders, waiting instead for the personal message that would come from the guy who does book orders, gently insisting that I announce my books for fall. To be fair, I did get the orders in for two of my classes, but Women's Spiritual Experiences has been incredibly difficult. It's one thing to choose between bad and good, and quite another to choose between good, better, and best. Here's what we'll read this fall (and if any students see this, they can count on this list to remain stable!) I just did two links, but then got bored with that - sorry.
Holy the Firm, Annie Dillard
The Myth of the Perfect Mother, Carla Barnhill
Traveling Mercies, Anne Lamott
Amazing Grace, Kathleen Norris
Pieces of Glass, Sarah Kay
The Love of Impermanent Things, Mary Rose O'Reilley
Advent blog post, Maggi Dawn
Beggars to God, Praying in Place, and Room for Company, Elizabeth Andrew
a few poems by Mary Karr
some poems by Kathleen Norris
Today I contacted four authors, hoping to have them come to class to talk about their books and their spiritual journeys, and lead the class in a writing or reflective exercise. Three said yes, and I'm waiting on one. Contacting an author is like, say, contacting a rock star. When they answer the phone, I break out in a sweat and say silly things in a raised voice. I was excited to hear even from Carla, who I sometimes hear from several times a week. But this is in her capacity as a Published Author, which is Very Exciting!!
5 Comments:
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If one of them is Anne Lamott, please remember that I gave you all those baby food jars and smuggle me in to listen.
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I wonder what it would take to get Anne Lamott to come speak in my class for an hour...I'm guessing I might need more than a smile and a cup of coffee, which is about all I have to offer most guest speakers!
As a poor substitute for the real deal, I'm showing the video Bird by Bird, a documentary about Lamott.
You're welcome to come watch it with us, and you don't even need to bring baby food jars! -
I would have enjoyed the high-pitched phone call. But I feel so cool being part of that list that I can be content with the e-mail.
By
, at 1:49 PM
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How do you feel about Bethel grads sitting in on your classes? I'm a seminary student who graduated from the university in 2005 and I would have loved to take this class while I was at Bethel. I'll even read all the books!
~AliBy
, at 12:39 AM
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Ali, why don't you e-mail me about it at jparis@bethel.edu?
I saw this t-shirt on a bountifully boobed teenager today. The "I LOVE BOYS" part was stretched out like Word Art, and the "who love jesus" part was nearly buried in the downward slope. I had to stare at her boobs for several seconds - which I did - to get the evangelistic message. is that a cultural engagement strategy?
Two typos I read yesterday:
"Much is at steak." (Even more than the writer knows, apparently)
"Lord, we hear You with out ears."
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Yesterday I was working from home and listening to the radio, and heard this sentence in an ad.
"Nobody knows tires or gives you more than Tires Plus."
I was so appalled I had to go upstairs and tell Michelle. She was not sympathetic of my offended ears.By
Josh Fuller, at 1:26 PM
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
I'm taking care of myself today. It's me time. My personal fulfillment is important to me. Because if I'm not happy, then how can I be a good mother or wife? I put others first every day, but now it's time to put myself first. I deserve it.
I'm making an appointment for a haircut. And that's how good it feels. Imagine what it will be like when I'm actually there!
2 Comments:
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Things I love: New haircut, new mascara, new painted toes, and enough sleep to put the other three to good use
By
Maria Kenney, at 11:23 AM
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My me-time activities usually involve a salon too, and always involve a stop for a coffee and rich chocolate dessert of some kind.
Monday, June 26, 2006
I read Leaving Church, in which Barbara Brown Taylor, after leaving her pastoral position at an Episcopal church in Georgia, sat alone at home and enjoyed nature as a Sabbath. For her as a pastor, obviously, Sunday was always a work day. Pam (who also read Leaving Church), who is a mom and a pastor, published a Christian Century letter to the editor commenting on an article about sabbath. The male author had written about how much he loved the great meals his family enjoyed on the sabbath, and Pam questioned whether the cook of the meal enjoyed a sabbath, and went on to say it's hard to practice the sabbath as a mom who is also a pastor. Everyone -- from congregation to children -- needs to be fed on Sundays, huh?
There is so much for me to think about from Leaving Church, but the Sabbath discussion is sticking with me, as did Pam's letter. Last Saturday, I considered what Sabbath could mean for me. I could not turn the computer on, not do laundry, and cook simply, even cooking more on Saturday to prepare for Sunday. Those three things alone would make a big difference in my life. With little babies, the days all run together, one after another, and often Sunday goes by entirely unmarked. I can't just not work, when the boys need me to feed and clothe and lift and care for them, but there are plenty of ways I can set aside the day as restful and holy and different from the other days.
So Sunday, I decided not to use the computer, except I really had to answer one e-mail. I made chili and pumpkin muffins, because my parents were coming over to babysit at dinnertime. My sister and her family came over for lunch and ate all the chili and most of the muffins, and lunch involved 47 implements that needed to be washed. Then I made a second pot of chili for dinner. Did a load of laundry. Coordinated babies' breakfast, lunch, naps, play with husband. Prepared for work at church gathering, then went to gathering and was "on" for the whole time.
I observed myself working so hard on Sunday, and questioned my reasons. Each one of those tasks is small, and I do them because I do have the energy and the desire to do them. I don't add them up - just do them one by one, and then later realize I've done ten things when I had promised to rest. Additionally, I don't like to leave work undone, because it will be staring at me later. I resent Sabbath because it seems like it's just tricking me into having more work on Monday. I suspect, however, that if I really practice it, abundance will appear.
Next weekend, my parents want me to help paint their house. But the following weekend...watch out, Sabbath, here I come.
2 Comments:
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My church is a church plant, and we meet in another church's building on Saturday nights. What's been great about it is that it's kind of like a Jewish sabbath - we worship at sundown Saturday evening, and then all day Sunday is free to practice sabbath. It's completely transformed our experience of church, which used to be stressful scrambling on Sunday mornings to get kids ready and such. Now on Sundays we have time to make pancakes together for breakfast, walk to the park, read, etc.
In contrast, our old church has just gone to four services - three on Sunday, and one Saturday night. And our friends that are on staff there and serve on worship team tell us that it completely wipes out their weekend. Sometimes church is the biggest barrier to experiencing sabbath. -
Al captures what I wanted to say. I have many observant Jewish friends -- and their ability to live into the Sabbath commandment fully is contingent not so much on individual faith, but a collective willingness to make it possible to do so. No one expects anything cooked freshly for Saturday lunch; folks don't send urgent emails or make urgent phone calls. It's much harder to do this alone!
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
How shall I determine how much reading to assign in a senior-level course that is intentionally heavy on reading and writing? Please offer opinions, in particular, people who like to read, people who have recently graduated from college, people who have taken my classes, and other professors? I realize I can assign whatever I want to assign, but I'd like to inspire love of reading in students, and have them come to class having read, and not discourage them.
Things I would assign:
Holy the Firm (only 76 pages, but some sentences take 20 minutes to understand)
3-4 essays by the same author
a set of poems and 2 essays
a book of 150 pages
Examples of things I wouldn't assign for a week's reading:
An entire book by Michel Foucault
Breathing Space, or Great with Child (both very dense and long)
Questions:
Could a student read all of Traveling Mercies (a not-very-dense 275 pages) in one week?
All of Leaving Church in a week?
Amazing Grace in two weeks (a dense 350 pages)?
What say you?
10 Comments:
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perhaps 1 book and selections from the others, or 2 books (TM and 1 other) but 3 might be a lot. They're all great, but I know that some pleasure in reading gets sapped out by the knowledge that one will be graded on the text.
-kpgBy
, at 2:48 PM
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100 pages/day is not too much to ask for weekdays. i think a 350 page book a week sounds like a good compromise.
on the one hand, it's nice to have a smaller reading load, but when it came down to it, I always appreciated being pushed into reading more (in one human rights class it was over 1500 pages a week, which was a bit much, but I ended up reading about 85% of it and felt great at the end of the quarter.
-a recent (non-bethel) college gradBy
, at 3:24 PM
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"Discipline & Punish : The Birth of the Prison" which contains one of the most awesome first sentences in English Literature, thats a light weekend read. Surely giving someone a week for that should be no problem.
"Traveling Mercies" is a gimme for a week's read. Too easy. -
Wow! I meant that list for one week - I'd assign one book, or a set of selections - not three books! Both of you are suggesting far more reading than what I was thinking. 700 pages a week, or two books... I don't need to assign two books - I tend to run class like a book club, and talk about one author or one book in depth. Maybe I should feel free to assign one book a week, even if the book is over 300 pages. I know that's only 50 pages a day or so (with a sabbath) - maybe that's not bad at all.
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my post referred to using those 3 books over the semester (quarter?) in addition to the other assignments. -kpg
By
, at 6:17 PM
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Traveling Mercies is a quick read. A week is plenty of time to finish the book.
Are you refering to Amazing Grace by Jonathan Kozol, if so, that could also be read in a week, but understanding and digesting that book may take another week.By
, at 11:38 PM
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There was one time in college when I read 8 books in 3 weeks, wrote 3 papers and wrote and directed a play. Now, this particular class was during our extremely intense winter-term and we could only take one class at a time.
I think your reading assignments sound challenging, but doable. I would keep in mind how much writing you want them to do, and whether you want them to write on what they are reading or do outside reasearch. If outside reasearch, then they might need lighter reading loads around the time they would be writing those papers. I think Michel Focault is actually fairly light reading (I was a philo major, so compared to Wittgenstein, he's cake :) ), so I wouldn't see a problem assigning a book of his for a week's reading.
Are you going to space out the reading requirements on your syllabus? (As in, say, read pp 1-150 for Monday, then pp. 151-300 for Wednesday, etc.) You might have better luck getting your students to keep up by not saving it all for the last minute. I would also caution that you keep your discussions somewhat current with what they are reading. If you get behind on your discussions, I can guarantee you that most of your students will NOT keep trucking on ahead per the syllabus. They'll keep just in line with where you are in the class (this is spoken from experience - I had a Spanish class that we supposedly had to read about 10 books over the course of the class, but we only got to finish discussion of 7 of them... I never read the others.)
Anyway, just my thoughts from a recent-ish grad (3 years ago!!) :) My how time flies... -
I almost removed this post b/c i'm sort of embarrassed. Assigning reading is like grading - it's a fairly subjective, idiosyncratic thing, yet it needs to fit into one's college community and into the broader higher ed community. Truth is, I'm agonizing over this women's class like I've not agonized over readings in many years. There truly is just too much good literature, and not enough time to read it all. It's one thing to choose between good and bad, and another to choose between good, better, and best.
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I also wanted to say that whoever thinks Foucault is easy to read is smarter than me. Which is fine. I read Discipline and Punish in a week, and then Birth of the Clinic the next week, in grad school. My eyes passed over every word, and I highlighted vigorously, but it was too much for my brain to assimilate in that short a time.
I'm reading some Foucault-inspired history of ideas, about how sexual deviance categories are created and enacted in various societies (David Greenberg) - it's fantastic. I've gone back over my Foucault highlights to learn again what I tried to learn back in grad school. -
Wish I'd taken a course that offered Travelling Mercies as ASSIGNED reading! Sounds great!
Mary Karr (Sinners Welcome)
I remember the long orange carp you once scooped
from the neighbor's pond, bounding beyond
her swung broom, across summer lawns
to lay the fish on my stoop. Thanks
for that. I'm not one to whom
offerings often get made. You let me feel
how Christ might when I kneel,
weeping in the dark
over the usual maladies: love and its lack.
Only in tears do I speak
directly to him and with such
conviction. And only once you grew frail
did you finally slacken into me,
dozing against my ribs like a child.
You gave up the predatory flinch
that snapped the necks of so many
birds and slow-moving rodents.
Now your once powerful jaw
is malformed by black malignancies.
It hurts to eat. So you surrender in the way
I pray for: Lord, before my own death,
let me learn from this animal's deep release
into my arms. Let me cease to fear
the embrace that seeks to still me.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
In response to interest... the enneagram is an ancient model of, or tool for, spirituality, and while no one knows its origin, it seems to have been brought into the western tradition via Muslim Sufis, and then Ignatian Catholicism. I guess it's like dinner mints - not necessarily Christian, but can become Christian. Just kidding - it's useful for Christians on a deeper level than just slapping a Jesus-y label on it. Within the Christian tradition, it's best known by Jesuits and contemplative Catholics, as far as I can tell. The idea is that we are created whole -- some would say even born whole -- but through early life experiences develop a spiritual 'way' that works for us. There are nine different ways (Enneagram numbers 1-9 set on a circle), one of which functions as a home base for us. Each type has a root sin, fear, gift, and path to wholeness. The One, for example, has a root sin of fear, gift of discernment, and needs to overcome the inner judge and fear of being bad in order to become more whole. Of course, I just described it in terms of deficiency and striving for improvement, because I'm a one.
It becomes wonderfully complicated - each number has 'wings', so a One may also have characteristics of Two, Nine, or both. Under stress, One shoots to Four. When healing, One shoots to Seven. Eventually (I don't know the rest of them), each number connects to all other numbers, suggesting that wholeness and integration are possible. The path to spiritual wholeness is through integration of all of the self, not amputation of the bad parts. And whatever you need -- fun, grace, peace -- it's somewhere in your range.
The enneagram has changed my life, helping me see that people have different spiritual paths, even within the same religion. It's not about each of us conforming to a SuperChristian image (a construct perpetuated by perfectionist, moralistic Ones, controlling Eights, and successful Threes who run religious organizations!!), but instead becoming more ourselves. For some, that means integrating greed into generosity, for others lust into agape, for others anger into acceptance. But we all connect, so I can understand a Nine because of one of my wings, or a Seven because of my 'healthy' arrow. It's also changed my marriage - I can understand my husband in terms of his Fiveness, and not just see him as a deficient One (a deficient 'Me'). It helps me honor his gifts and his fears, and understand the logic behind what he does. Like the Myers-Briggs does for many, enneagram gives us a vocabulary for talking about relationships.
How to learn about the enneagram? There are on-line quizzes that put you in a category in five minutes. That's not bad, but it's far from best. The best way is to immerse yourself in the model, and eventually recognize yourself in it. You're not really supposed to assess other people's numbers, either, just your own (but who can resist?). There's no authoritative enneagram master or text, but instead numerous spiritual seekers who know the model from the inside out. My favorite three:
Richard Rohr. The Enneagram. A Christian perspective (he's a Franciscan), makes interesting connections to Bible characters and Christian historical figures. Bases the enneagram on the seven deadly sins - fascinating. Good one for immersion and recongizing one's own number.
Wisdom of the Enneagram. Riso and Hudson. Not a Christian perspective - sort of 'generally' spiritual and very psychological. The part I like describes a number as 'healthy', 'unhealthy', and 'very unhealthy.' So you can see that, say, Mother Theresa and Hitler might share an enneagram number, but be at the extremes of health and unhealth. Helps see yourself and your actions as coming from an integrated place, with variances of health/maturity. Helps you recognize your potential to become a tyrant, nihilist, or ax-murderer.
Enneagram in Love and Work. Helen Palmer. Great for understanding dynamics of number pairs. I read it mostly for 1 and 5, and it was amazing how well it described my marriage - helps me think about what to try to change, what to accept, and how. Wasn't as useful for work - I couldn't make good guesses about my closest colleagues, but many people say it's helpful there too.
6 Comments:
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The wikipedia has some thoughts on the topic, if you don't want to buy the book.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Enneagram -
Ah, my husband is also a five.
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The part of wikipedia that I read was derived from the Wisdom of the Enneagram, and is worth the read.
And Kira (if you check back here), what are you? -
an eight
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Go 5's!
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interesting with the husband 5's ... mine is, too. i agree with you, jenell, that this way of looking at character traits really does open up the eyes to differences in marital relationships (as well as others). i have come to understand kelly much more just by reading into the enneagram wisdom.
:) btw - i'm a 2 - the Helper.
Monday, June 19, 2006
In his sermon on suffering and tragedy, Doug helpfully distinguished between the hardness of everyday life and unspeakable suffering. I had already realized the difference between babies learning to eat and, say, babies dying, but hadn't put into words for myself one of Doug's other suggestions, that the rules of engagement are different for the two situations. For me, I remember my season of unspeakable suffering being profoundly empty in a material sense. Without babies to care for or even a job to go to (maternity/disability/bereavement leave), each day presented me with nothing but time. James asked me once during that time, "What do you do all day?" I said, "I grieve. That's all." (So did he, but he also went to work.) It seemed right to set aside ordinary life in exchange for an extraordinary time of remembering, reflecting, waiting, and tangling with God.
Now, facing everyday difficulties, I don't have to plumb the depths every day; I need only clean up the plums. I see that it is difficult for me, as a mother, to change along with my children. As an Enneagram One, I want to master things. Major changes like crawling and eating, and even minor ones like growing into new clothes make me frightened and anxious - afraid that the good thing we had going is gone, that the abundance I've orchestrated for them will be replaced with unmet needs in short order. While I can see this about myself, I just don't have the psychic space, time, or energy to pursue growth in the ways I used to pursue growth. I believe, however, that by doing the work of my hands with heart open, the work of my heart will somehow get done.
As has happened for me at many other gatherings, my favorite part was Javier's music. Constantly Amazed is based on Matthew 5: If you can feed the birds/ and if you can clothe the fields/ I know you can take care of me. Talk about personalizing worship - I pictured standing outside with bags of bread, throwing them by the armful at the birds. What a mess and a waste, but the birds get fed. The message to my heart was to keep preparing quantitites of food, and throw it at the babies by the armful. Some small fraction of it will go into their little open beaks, and they'll be fed. It's my joy to take care of them, and God's joy to take care of me.
1 Comments:
Sunday, June 18, 2006
I read a few chapters of Ecclesiastes to myself, and finished by reading chapter 10-end out loud to Oliver and Wesley. Not much spiritual aptitude, those two, choosing instead to smear food on their respective heads. My day-long rumination focused mostly on my being an enneagram 1, and how that shapes the fruit I glean from Scripture. Reading Ecc. propositionally, I gathered a lesson for myself: Do the right thing for the right reason, knowing that you can't control the outcome. In particular, this speaks to being married (stop being a bitch), and feeding my babies (keep feeding them, whether or not they successfully eat - do the right thing, and let the outcome work itself out).
After giving propositional mind its space, this verse surfaced repeatedly:
Whether a tree falls to the south or to the north, there will it lie. Ecc. 11:3b
This has got to be a parallel to "one hand clapping", a koan (those non-rational riddles like 'one hand clapping' or 'to find your life you must lose it'). I repeated it to myself all day, and even saw a felled tree in the side of someone's house on the local news. There it lies -- how true.
That verse leads me to my personal koan and a path for it. Tonight's sermon is on "suffering, tragedy, and God." It's been making me consider avoiding church, because I expect to be hurt by whatever is said, cry, criticize the sermon, or disengage to avoid being hurt, crying or criticizing. I realized this morning, however, that I can claim my personal koan, carry it through the day, and take it to church with me.
My koan is "The babies didn't eat, but they were fed." This is my bit of suffering -- bearing the not-rightness of the world - though I don't think it rises to the level of tragedy. The boys are struggling to transition to chopped food - they'd rather eat baby food. This is not how life should be, and it won't always stay this way, but here it is for a season. I resent the 15 minutes I spend preparing a tray of black beans, mashed casserole, cooked rice, cantelope, peeled grapes, hunks of bread, and back-up baby food. Then I resent the 20 minutes of washing off Wesley, washing off Oliver, changing my food-smeared clothes, rinsing down the high chairs and the deck (they eat outside), and cleaning up the dishes. And I hate hate hate the mess. Specifically, I don't like food that has been mashed in the mouth, expelled, spit-up upon, and located on top of head, face, arms, back of knees, seat of pants, all over high chair, and floor. Then I fear the next mealtime, which is only 2 hours away by that point. Now, I'm not going to compare my problems to anyone else's problems, or even to my other problems of past or present. In fact, when I heard the sermon title, I assumed I was supposed to bring my Greatest Personal Tragedy to church and work on my grief. Instead, I'm bringing my Now, which is frustration about feeding toddlers.
It's a riddle -- a koan: The babies didn't eat, but they were fed. I'll carry it all day, and then take it to church, and see what happens. Stay tuned.
4 Comments:
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Oh Jenell, I remember bracing myself for this stage with daughter #2...I hadn't forgiven daughter #1 for having to learn to eat!
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Can we get a witness??? We have a witness. Miranda has learned to swat the spoon away with all the hand-eye coordination of Mr. Miyagi catching a fly with chopsticks in "The Karate Kid."
Great message, BTW. I think it will impact my daily life in the weeks to come, as I attempt to control all sorts of uncontrollable things!By
Maria Kenney, at 10:44 AM
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Jenell - I know this wasn't the point of your post, and you weren't asking for baby-feeding advice... but, just in case it might be a help - during that transition time, I used to get very discouraged at the amount of prep work that went into the food that was reviled and smashed about. I was very into healthy, fresh foods as well - and yet I loved when I found the magic of canned green beans for my baby. They came out of the can in baby-sized pick-up units, were soft enough to be easy to eat, and if they were only smeared around - at least I hadn't worked to prepare them as well as having to clean them up. They also come in little travel-sized cans, which was wonderful for food on the go! So I compromised my "fresh and healthy" standards for a while and my baby ate many cans of green beans (and other things, too!).
I loved the real point of your post, as well. -
Thanks for the empathy and the suggestions! Neither of my boys do the karate spoon swat - their messes get made by missing the spoon, rubbing messy fingers into eyes and head, and inspecting food by testing its properties -- squeezability, pullability, pinchability, etc.
Friday, June 16, 2006
I'm reading Mary Karr's poetry (Sinners Welcome) and am enjoying it greatly. Her concluding essay makes it clear to me that I am, as I suspected, not a poet. So much darkness, rumination on death, and camping out on the border between mature reflection and adolescent emotional indulgence. I became frustrated with her morbidity, saying, "You're not dead yet! Why not live now, and die later?"
That said, I've been quite unbalanced and not in the now. I couldn't even do tree pose yesterday, not even with my foot balanced just on the other lower shin. It's not death, specifically, that's capturing my imagination, but deconstruction. I deconstruct things until they melt away. Take cooking, for instance. Aren't all recipes just a combination of carb, protein, and vegetable? Onion/pepper base, add ethnic flavor (cumin, fish sauce, or msg flavor pak), add meat/cheese, add carb, bake. Sweets are the same: fat/sugar base, add egg, add flour, add fun (chips, dried fruit, nuts), bake. I only need two base recipes - the rest is variation. Yesterday I made hamburger casserole (without a recipe, just to show how idiotic it is as a food) and banana bread (noting to myself how easy it would be to make it rhubarb bread or blueberry bread).
It's one thing to deconstruct food, but the same can easily be done with relationships, or jobs, or geography, or any other grounding love. The people I love will move on, everyone will die, all altruism is actually selfish, and people only listen insofar as it allows them to speak next. And I criticize myself as I did Mary Karr - why not live in the world as it is, and savor the now?
You know, as I write I realize I'm experiencing the questions of Ecclesiastes. I might have 15-20 minutes before the boys wake up, so I'm going to read as much as I can, and let you know what happens.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Today we celebrate 14,600 days of James' life, 365 days and seven minutes of Oliver's life, and 365 days of Wesley's life. Happy birthday, my loves!
4 Comments:
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Happy Birthday to all the wonderful Paris men! :)
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Happy birthday to all! Turns out hubby and I are close to the same age. Yes, I did the math.
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Indeed, a very happy birthday to all! I'm closing in 14600 myself...
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Hey-
My sweet guy is a June 11 baby too. It is a good day for cute boys to be born I guess.
Tara
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
The emergent Summer Institute discussion on homosexuality was on Monday night - no one said it was gay, so I guess it went well. I managed to talk briefly about the Waorani, too, which was fun and goes to show how much I'm itching to teach Intro to Anthro again! My purpose was to do some postmodern analysis on sexual identity categories - deconstruct them until they slip away, and then reconstruct something, both ideas and a way of life, suitable for Christian communities in a postmodern era. I'll mention three things by way of reflection:
1. Christians are starved for good conversation about alternative sexualities. Questions and comments ranged around issues including the pastoral, biblical, theological, interpersonal, family, and political. I was raising cultural issues, and was glad no one asked me to be an expert on all those other things. Still, when the issue of homosexuality is opened up, it immediately becomes apparent that it is not a single issue, and that people have lots of genuine concerns, questions, points of interest, and points of agony.
These issues are all related and embedded, of course. It is striking that, even more than when I worked on African-American issues, people push for points of application on gay issues, most notably church leadership and same-sex marriage. Power is at stake, and it can seem as if gaining power and using it to influence things in what you define as a biblical direction is the most important thing. Might we back up and question our ways of understanding and wielding power? And isn't there value in simply learning and living in community, even if and when the quest for power fails? There is a place for scholarship in this mess, and while it will have great limitations and probably move too slowly, be too impractical, and not be polemical enough to please many, it is still a valuable place.
2. The group helped clarify my sense of direction on these issues. I'd like to put some ideas out there, and see if they can influence or assist dialogue. I'd like to learn. I'd like to read and write, and maybe do some field research. I'd like to pray, be a good friend, and contribute to and receive from my fellow believers' discipleship, including same-sex issues, when the Lord brings people my way (That sentence gives God agency instead of me b/c I don't track down gay people to disciple). I am not focused on coercing consensus, preaching, teaching exegesis, becoming a pastor, being a political player, or controlling access to leadership or power.
3. I suggested to the group that "is homosexuality a sin?" was not our question of focus, and I asked them to consider why they would need to know the speaker's position on that question, when the speaker is not dealing with that question. I said that if I talk about that question at the beginning, then our single group discussion will probably break into teams - those who have the speaker on their side, and those who question the speaker's intelligence, faith, and character. Several people there already knew my opinion, and one has e-mailed to ask me (which is fine). I knew our group was diverse in terms of how people see the Bible, and how they see the morality of sexuality in general, much less homosexuality. I also knew we were of diverse experiences and feelings about our own sexualities.
For the most part, I don't think it's right for a speaker/'expert'/spokesperson/'person in front' to be evasive or refuse to articulate their views on issues that are important to people, and I do see this happening at times within the emergent discussion. People shift the meaning of words, or refuse to talk about a 'modern' question or category, and spend an entire answer explaning why they won't (or can't) answer the question. I think we need to be multilingual when it comes to cultural categories, shifting btw modern and postmodern discourses when necessary for clarity. Anyway, I was encouraged and blessed by our group's ability to focus on the question at hand, and not use 'the homosexual question' as a litmus test to determine which people were worth listening to.
1 Comments:
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you are SO SO SO SO SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO right about the homosexual thing. I would really really really like to have a conversation about it that discusses all aspects of it without the blanket statement I get from so many Christians "its a sin, we should treat it like any other" uh ummmm. I don't think that is possible or practical either. I wish I was there.
sigh.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Just a reminder that the Solomon's Porch Summer Institute begins today, and my session on homosexuality is tonight at 6:30. We'll meet at church (46th & Blaisdell), and there will be a sign telling you which room (probably the garrett upstairs). Don't worry about whether or not you've registered or paid or plan to pay - just come!
Session title: Homosexuality and emergent churches
Session description:
Many denominations and individual congregations are in active conflict over the issue of homosexuality. How might we create fresh ways to move beyond the liberal – conservative impasse?
I will present themes and questions from queer theory that perhaps could inform Christian theology and church practice. Our session will mostly involve group discussion based on our local contexts and experiences, focused toward ways we can make a better future regarding sexuality, sexual orientation, and homosexuality in our faith communities.
I expect that participants will be of diverse theologies and practices regarding sexuality. I will encourage an ethos of hospitality in which all voices are welcomed and respected. The most important outcome of the session will be to cultivate friendships and a relational web of people in emerging churches who care about theology and practice regarding sexual identity.
3 Comments:
Kristin asked me how I've experienced God taking care of me. It would be great to read other blogs on the same subject - let me know and I'll post links to your writings. The phrase prompted me to google and listen to the wonderful hymn, "God Will Take Care of You", which was written by Civilla Martin while she was sick. Oliver, Wesley, and I sing hymns like this and discuss their lyrics regularly (so far, it seems like I do all the singing and discussing, but I do not belittle the power of monologue).
God Will Take Care of You
Verse 1.
Be not dismayed whate’er betide,
God will take care of you;
Beneath His wings of love abide,
God will take care of you.
I believe all of my pain and healing takes place beneath God's wings of love, or within God's enveloping presence, or in the context of God's creation which is everything, or however else it can be phrased. It was hurtful for me when, as I regained the ability to function normally, people said things like, "God healed you" or "God sustained you." At that time, I felt like God had failed me and I was healing and sustaining myself. I faced my own nightmares. I endured my own emotions. I went to therapy, talked it all through, and I lived through every horrible minute of every horrible day. I was pregnant, I threw up five hundred times, I received the news that my pregnancy was to end too soon, and I gave birth to my babies. By saying, "God healed you," it sounds like God is let off the hook for the things God didn't do, and then given credit for all the work I just did.
Now, with the perspective of a bit more time, I see it the same way, except without the implied hostility. The work of suffering, endurance, and choosing to remake my life was my work, and that's why I experienced myself as doing it. The work of making babies, gestating them, and bearing them is mostly women's work -- we incarnate. God was in it with me, but not as a projection screen onto which I could toss my problems. God was before my situation, because he made the world, the therapists, the doctors, my body, my husband, and everything else that provided context. God was in the situation, and the mystical encounters I had with God and with love were as important as food and water in keeping me alive. God was in me, the 'light within.'
I don't give God credit for healing in a simple way, like verse 3 of the hymn says, "All you may need He will provide, God will take care of you; Nothing you ask will be denied, God will take care of you." I need more precision in articulating where I encountered God acting, as a force beyond myself, and where I was the agent of action, acknowledging God is within me and God made me. And there were moments of love in which these distinctions harmonized, and these sorts of words, and even the idea of putting it into words, became foolish.
The chorus to the hymn may seem simple, because it is simple. The hymnwriter was suffering bodily as she wrote, and while she certainly used the vernacular of her day, she also captures a simplicity of what it's like to know God and to trust God.
God will take care of you,
Through every day, over all the way;
He will take care of you,
God will take care of you.
Jim Jones spoke of the 'sky god' (who isn't real, but Jim Jones is god and is real...). Perhaps it's a poorly chosen analogy, but I found that in my most difficult days, the 'sky god' just wasn't cutting it. It didn't make sense that my babies were far away, and God also was far away, and maybe they were all together in heaven laughing and playing, while I am separated and doomed here all alone. I do believe that God exists outside me, and comes to me as my Savior, and I pray and worship with words and images from my 20th century fundamentalist/pietist/Baptist ancestors (last verse)
No matter what may be the test,
God will take care of you;
Lean, weary one, upon His breast,
God will take care of you.
I also believe that God is within, and His love and care emerge from within our own hearts, and that it really isn't even an emergence - it is an incarnation. Like how a baby is part of a woman's body, but also its own being. God takes care of me because God is everywhere - in heaven, in the Bible, in the world around me, and in me. Wherever I turn, I find God.
1 Comments:
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Thanks for this, Jenell. What difficult things to even talk about (and not for lack of wanting)! It sounds like your experience of God's care, at least as understand from this vantage point, is similar to how I'm understanding mine: God is in me, incarnate in my being, and also bigger than that, incarnate in my context and the people around me. God caring is a kind of sustainance that isn't so much from the outside or from the inside as both, and therefore sometimes gets experienced as laying at God's breast, like that song says, and sometimes as working really hard at some terribly difficult thing. Maybe you make more of a distinction than I do between the God parts of God working and the human parts of the work we experience ourselves doing (i.e. literally incarnating our babies inside ourselves), but maybe not. I find it fascinating that though I'm no fundamentalist/pietist/Baptist by any stretch, the way you've described things here resonates just fine.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
If so, perhaps you can answer this question. Is there some sort of category for the argument below (like ad hominem or ad nauseum or circular, or something like that)? Is this a valid form of argument, or is it stupid?
There is no absolute truth, except for the fact that there is no absolute truth.
We must display tolerance towards all points of view, except for those we deem intolerant.
Context: I've been reading far too much emergent conversation on various blogs, and it seems that extremely long comments sections (like 80-200 comments) seem to eventually wrap around to the same set of arguments about truth (well, if you say there's no objective truth, how can you say that, because then you're claiming your statement is true...). This seems similar to the tolerance/intolerance claims made in multicultural discussions.
3 Comments:
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As Mike Myers once noted, "There are only two types of people in the world I hate: People who are intolerant of other cultures, and the Dutch."
I believe these are examples of the Liar's Paradox--a "self-refuting" or "self-falsifying" set of claims. It is occasionally referred to as the Eubulides Paradox. Eubulides wrote:
A man says that he is lying. Is what he says true or false?
This is also sometimes known as the Epimenides Paradox--Epimenides, a Cretan, once wrote that "All Cretans are liars." But this statement could simply be false if not all Cretans are liars, and it is therefore not a particularly apt parallel with the Liar's Paradox.
I wasn't a philosophy major, but I took a philosophy of religion class or two at seminary. -
I was a philosophy minor (I almost typed miner! which would be kind of cool).
It was Feyerabend who famously said “The only absolute truth is that there are no absolute truths.” Without your ‘except’ clause (or Feyerabend’s ‘only’ qualifier) such a statement would be contradictory; with a qualifier, the statement seems coherent, if the basis of radical skepticism.
Assuming a radical skepticism, arguing for tolerance for all perspectives except for the intolerant ones seems a good policy (because it seems humane, and has the least chance of causing active mischief), at least until one faces perceived evil/injustice. I think it's quite difficult to maintain a position of radical skepticism in the face of injustice.
It is interesting that Aristotle commented on skepticism, contradiction and truth some 24 centuries ago:
“It is clear, then, that wisdom is knowledge having to do with certain principles and causes. But now, since it is this knowledge that we are seeking, we must consider the following point: of what kind of principles and of what kind of causes is wisdom the knowledge?
Finally, if nothing can be truly asserted, even the following claim would be false, the claim that there is no true assertion.” -
Well, mathematically the statement seems similar to:
A + 0 = A,
in the special case that A=0
As a physicist I'd call that the "trivial" or "pathological" solution to a set of equations. It might have some physical meaning, but it isn't the interesting part of the solution.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
I may have used a four-letter word with reference to my CRC co-religionists (and it wasn't to say that they are 'damn right about everything!'), so to make amends I listened yesterday to a CD recording from the Calvin College Festival of Faith and Writing. I was at Hope College that weekend at a board meeting, and managed to race over to Calvin to hear part of Walter Wangerin's talk, and Donald Miller's talk. I missed the rest of the festival, however, though I hope to attend some year soon. I ordered three CD recordings, one of which was by Susan VanZandt Gallagher at Westmont, titled "Mending Tattered Fiath: Devotions with Dickinson."
Gallagher is working on a book of reflections tied to Dickinson's poetry that touches on suffering, reconstruction of faith, and the like, and the 58-minute presentation was devoted to analyzing three brief poems: one about mending, one about nature and Nicodemus, and one about a bridge. I liked this one best. She read the poem, and then offered two minutes of silence for reflection. I reclined further in my lawn chair, took a sip of iced tea, and gazed at my garden, ready to reflect. After one second, she continued, "Well, that was kind of awkward, but I hope you enjoyed it!" The person recording the session had turned off the recorder for the two minutes of silence! Were there only 58 minutes of recordable space on the CD? The silence was part of the presentation - it was planned, crafted by the speaker, and necessary for the discussion. Just because it's quiet doesn't mean nothing is happening. I missed out on the reflection. I could have turned off the CD player, but once I heard Gallagher's voice continuing on, I couldn't turn back. I wanted to gobble up more of her words instead of savoring the silence.
To mend each tattered Faith
Emily Dickinson
1442
To mend each tattered Faith
There is a needle fair
Though no appearance indicate—
'Tis threaded in the Air—
And though it do not wear
As if it never Tore
'Tis very comfortable indeed
And spacious as before—
Thursday, June 01, 2006
(alternate title: "Damn it, I've used alot of male language for God in this post!")
Day before yesterday, I gave a presentation at a Bethel faculty workshop. A colleague, who knew me in my undergraduate days, approached me afterwards and said, "I remember you as a combative student, but I haven't seen that part of you for years. Nice to see it has returned." A kind compliment from one feminist to another. I was talking about faith-integration in anthropology, but somehow also managed to criticize missionaries, say that a Christian colleague's anthropology makes more sense than his Christianity, and use the word "damn" in reference to Christian Reformed theology. Some of it made people laugh, but even so, I probably should have been more thoughtful.
There's a fine line between irreverence and irresponsibility - what one person finds acceptable may be wounding or insulting to others. I'm increasingly irreverent about matters of theology and tradition, and at times I'm not sure how to reengage evangelicalism -- my tradition and religious identity -- in ways that honor those who hold these things close. My tradition and its supporting institutions are pretty much the same as they've been, but I've changed alot. I feel like I've been on a summer missions trip, and don't know how to explain my incredible experience to the grown-ups at my home church.
It's a resurrection of sorts. In addition to my sons, many things in me died in 2003 - my energy, creativity, anticipation, and wonder. What Jesus spent three days doing in his own life has taken him nearly three years in mine - a calming of death-energy, and a return to life. I used to treasure theology, understandings of God, doctrines, and my evangelical tradition, but when it came down to trying to save the lives of my children, those things were of no use. That disjuncture between supposedly powerful religion and powerlessness in daily life forced a point of crisis of potentially seeing all theology, and more importantly, my relationship with God, and more importantly still, God Himself (for lack of a better emphatic pronoun), as useless. That has, however, in no way been the outcome. In reconstructing my life, I see the things of God as sacred, and I engage them with all sincerity and reverence. I see this when myself or another person is making choices about how to live in a holy way, when a person is waiting to hear from God, or interpreting the voice of God. Or when a person is suffering, and the whole universe is present in their pain, and attention need not be paid to anything else.
I believed it before, but now I know that my faith is not held together by my understanding of faith. My personal theology and my articulation of my faith journey are my best attempts to speak of God, but even at their best, they are only strings of words about that which is so much more important and real than the words themselves. Faith traditions with which I most closely associate myself -- evangelicalism, fundamentalism, and pietism -- are social constructs designed to carry the religion (and hopefully the faith, too!) into and through a new social era. We need to work long and hard to improve our personal lives and our traditions, but we ought not worship them or treat them with the reverence due only to God.
In short, I no longer hold the faith; rather, it holds me. For me, there's play and humor in that freedom. In letting go of my first three babies, I also let go of the life I thought I'd have, the world I thought I understood, and the God I thought I knew. I don't deserve to outlive my children, and I don't necessarily even need to. Whatever days remain for me on earth are frosting, excess. I plan to enjoy them like dessert, not anxiously hoard them like my only remaining crust of bread. And that might well mean that I talk too quickly, poke fun at my own tradition, and have wild fun with ideas and words. I'm not on eggshells with God anymore, protecting Him from criticism, making excuses for His lack of helpfulness, or saying I'm happy with Him when I'm actually angry. God can take care of Himself, and when I live as if that's true, I find that He takes care of me, too.
5 Comments:
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Yes. It's like you turned on the light at the end of my hallway. Thank you.
By
Michelle Fuller, at 2:20 PM
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Interesting. I've often referred to the loss of our son as my "road to Damascus", because nothing else that I've experienced so far had such a powerful impact in terms of deepening my faith.
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A really beautiful post, Jenell. I'm particularly drawn to the last line. If you feel like saying, I'd love to hear what your experience of God taking care of you has been. My darkest season cause me to "let go of the life I thought I'd have, the world I thought I understood, and the God I thought I knew" too, and I guess I'd say I'm being cared for by God, but what I mean by that is just so radically different from the way my tradition might describe being cared for that I'm not sure they'd recognize what I'm talking about as such.
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"You have kept count of my tossings;
put my tears in your bottle.
Are they not all in your book?" --Ps. 56:8
Jenell, I prayed for you today.By
Craver VII, at 11:38 AM
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This is a very nice way of putting it, and I am going to steal it:
I believed it before, but now I know that my faith is not held together by my understanding of faith.
12 Comments:
Whatever my size (and I have quite a range), I've always had good luck with picking up an Anne Cole at somewhere like T. J. Maxx.
YMMV.
By
Cuccu, at 10:08 AM
Here is your answer:
http://www.wholesomewear.com/page-4.html
You're welcome!
Welchenthaler
By
Anonymous, at 10:24 AM
The Marilyn Monroe ornament seems to be quite popular already, so I bypassed it. I did bid on something though...don't tell Michelle!
By
Josh Fuller, at 1:20 PM
I guessed correctly, Josh! I do think you should reconsider the Marilyn Monroe ornament, though. It's a keeper.
By
Jenell, at 1:25 PM
An exerpt from the wholesomewear website:
We also offer a Slimming Swimmer suit that extends to the midarm (between the elbow and the wrist) and covers down to the lower leg (between the knee and the ankle).
How nice.
By
kati, at 2:35 PM
Well, if you're built like me, such a suit is a lifesaver. No matter how much I diet or exercise, the area between my elbow and wrist is always untoned and pudging out of my clothing.
By
Jenell, at 4:24 PM
Ok, I cracked up when I clicked on the conservative swimsuit! Good one! Now I know where to order mine...sigh.
Seriously, I have two words for post-baby-body swimsuits - Lands End. If your ebay items do well you should be able to afford one!
By
Tonya, at 11:06 PM
ok, I'm heading to ebay, but first I'm all distracted by the 17 hours to the west coast thing ---- how do you DO that?
By
juniper68, at 2:10 AM
Jenell, You're coming to my motherland! If you pass through Portland and have any time on your way to the coast, let me know, I would love to see you, even if just for a moment or coffee...or Powell's books trip (i.e. the greatest bookstore IN THE WORLD)
kate nordbye
By
Kate, at 2:56 AM
I'll e-mail you, Kate! And juniper, we're doing the 17 hours one hour at a time. I don't see any other way to do it!
By
Jenell, at 8:12 AM
I'm feeling some solidarity with you...we're doing something like 22 hours to PA in August. Though my girls are a little older than your boys it still frightens me!
With overnight stops in Chicago (American Girl Place), Cleveland (former neighbors) and Philly (wedding) I think I figured 6 out of 9 days will be spent driving 6 hours!
By
Tonya, at 10:12 AM
I have no idea what one does with a Marilyn Monroe ornament. I can't wait to explain that one to the Mister.
By
Kristen, at 6:13 PM
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