Philosophers on Lost

What's with the philosophers' names on Lost? I didn't catch this before, but the father of John Locke is named Anthony Cooper. Ring a bell? Of course not. But historians of ethics know Anthony Cooper under his title, the third Earl of Shaftesbury.

Diocese of California prepares to make trouble

The Diocese of California has identified seven nominees for its upcoming episcopal election. Three of the seven are in same-sex relationships.

The Presiding Bishop has warned, in the wimpiest way imaginable, that it might not be a good idea to elect a gay bishop just at the moment.

I read lots of theologically fancy commentary on such matters throughout the Anglican-left blogosphere, so I know all the arguments for going ahead. But, simple philosopher and lover of Anglicanism that I am, I can only see this one way.

Just stop it! Stop being needlessly provocative. Don't say a big fuck-you to the larger Communion. Because that's what this would be. Hell, that's probably what it's intended to be. We're talking, after all, about the Diocese of California, home of the syncretistic and unabashedly heretical Church of St Gregory of Nyssa, whose co-rector is one of the nominees.

The Top 10

Songs of the 21st century tonight. We have only an hour for ten contestants, so there should be less inane banter. I don't know what's going on with Ryan's tie-tack.

Lisa starts us off with a Kelly Clarkson song, "Because of You." Lisa sings it heavily, ponderously; she lands short of all the high notes. There's some really sour stuff near the end. Not good. Randy is unenthusiastic and Lisa looks as if she could cry. Paula doesn't really help. Simon goes in for the kill: "The song was too big for your voice."

Kellie will sing "Suds in the Bucket," which I've never heard. It's a very low-energy performance, respectably tuneful but extremely uninspiring. Randy didn't get the song choice (Amen, brother!), Paula says "You're so much better than that," and Simon just rails against the "gimmicky, rodeo, lassoing" song. The judges are not happy tonight.

Ace will sing "Drops of Jupiter," by Train, which I predict will be a disaster. He's doing all kinds of weird physical stuff, opening his shirt on "permanent scar" and raising and lowering his arms shudderingly at odd moments. Vocally it's not bad, but not great. Oh, I see, there was an actual scar there -- I couldn't see it under the lights. So it went along with touching his hair when he sang the word "hair." Very Idol.

At least Taylor is dressed better tonight, but he's extra-twitchy while he talks irritatingly about the "Soul Patrol." He sings "Trouble," a slow and pointless song that he purportedly chose in order to show off his range even though it doesn't actually require a big range. Paula, who is unaccountably sensible tonight, points out that it was nice that for once he just stood behind the microphone and sang. Simon quite liked the vocal and the song but not the clothes, which he called "very Clay Aiken," which was just bizarre.

Mandisa is doing Gospel. It's fabulous. Finally the kind of performance she's been capable of all along. Randy is still not liking the song choices tonight. Paula wants her to "color it up with a little vulnerability next time," which, I hate to say, I think I know what that means. Simon doesn't get Gospel any more than he gets country, so no big surprise there.

Ryan immediately prompts Chris to acknowledge that he was doing Live's version of "Walk the Line" last week. He sings Creed's "What If." It's a little angry and Spinal-Tap-y for my taste, but at least it's not Scott Stapp karaoke. Simon thinks Chris needs to do something different, so that next week, when he does, they can criticize him for forgetting who he is.

Katharine channels the execrable Christina Aguilera, all runs and warble and inappropriate smiling. Randy at least liked the song choice, for the first time tonight, but she didn't do anything distinctive with it. Paula has apparently found her happy juice. Simon thinks it was the best tonight -- which, sadly, is probably right -- and was "almost as good as Christina."

Bucky will sing "Real Good Man" by Tim McGraw. Was his accent that thick before? I can't think of anything to say about that performance. It was so utterly undistinguished. "Very unimpressive," Simon said.

Paris does "Work It Out," an atrocity that reminds me why I don't care for Beyonce. Paris is twirling her hair and bouncing around but not so much singing. To use Simon's favorite word of the evening, it was "indulgent." Randy loved it. Paula loved it. Simon correctly derides it as "precocious. . . . It was like a little girl pretending to be Beyonce."

Elliott will close out this dreadful night with "I Don't Wanna Be." The singing is inadequately supported, frequently flat, heavy, and breathless. For some reason Randy and Paul just love it. Simon says the arrangement was terrible (as though these contestants actually arrange their own material -- which is why the whole Chris/Live thing was so ridiculous) but the vocal was good.

Recaps: what a wasted, pointless night of half-assed karaoke. There wasn't a single genuinely good performance in the bunch. I could see just about any of them getting kicked off this week.

The Top 11

Huh. The parade of contestants reminds me that I forgot about Bucky.

Tonight it's songs from the 50s. The contestants had guidance from Barry Manilow, who -- quite coincidentally -- has a new album of 50s favorites. They actually flew them all to Vegas to work with Barry. That's just so awesomely perverse I don't know how to describe it. Barry has a much better attitude than Stevie did. He has the spirit of a teacher.

Mandisa sings "I Don't Hurt Any More." It's very nice, technically excellent, but somehow doesn't connect with me. The judges loved it.

While Blogger is down temporarily, Bucky gives a disturbingly breathless and awkward performance of "Oh Boy." Randy and Paula pointedly don't talk about the actual quality of the singing, but when Simon quite correctly blasts the vocals, Randy and Paula interrupt and splutter and are ridiculous.

Paris gives a brilliantly paced rendition of "Fever," letting the vocal power emerge gradually rather than belting from start to finish. She is vocally more assured than we've heard lately, and she made wonderful strategic use of vibrato for warmth and drama. (Remember: vibrato is a tool, not a condition.) Surpassed Mandisa in my book.

Ryan banters with a seven-year-old, and I shudder at how cute I find it all.

Chris is doing "I Walk the Line," which is actually quite a bold choice for him. It starts out sounding like a perverse Nine-Inch-Nails-with-a-head-cold version, but then, holy crap, it just takes off, and it is arresting and powerful and if you like modern rock in the vein of Live, as I do, well, it's just great, so great that it makes me write a run-on sentence. Chris is a pro in a show full of amateurs. And I like that Chris is wearing all black in honor of Mr Cash (and looking awfully darn hot, I must say).

Katharine, looking beautiful and elegant, interviews about the wonderfulness of Barry Manilow. He advises her to sing "Come Rain or Come Shine" to someone. It says something that she doesn't think, "Well, duh!" I like the way she's being playful and sultry at the same time. Vocally it's another great performance from her. She has the most versatile instrument of all the finalists. Simon says, "Tonight you turned into a star."

Looking over at Professor Althouse, I find that she connects Chris with Live too. I got there first, but she knew Ed Kowalcyk's name, so she gets the bonus coolness points.

Taylor makes his entrance singing "Mandy," which is just appalling, but Barry pretends to find it charming. I love that Barry is an arranger and can help adapt the songs in a way that showcases the singers without overwhelming them. Taylor is doing the classic Idol why-should-I-have-to-breathe-when-I'm-not-singing-high thing, which just drives me crazy. If Simon doesn't call this a karaoke performace I will be very disppointed, because this is exactly the performance for which that comment was invented. It is tedious, mannered, twitchy, and vocally just not that great. Remember the "drunk uncle" comment? Well, reprise that, only without adding "but you can actually sing."

Or was it drunk father?

Anyway, Randy and Paula again do that thing where they talk around the vocal performance rather than about it. Simon actually begins with 'but', which is just priceless. "It was a complete mess. . . . That was like some hideous party performance. . . . Paula, you're talking rubbish." Spot on, Simon.

Lisa will show us what "Why Do Fools Fall in Love?" sounds like with four key changes. And it is just not good. She's on key, but it's all so lackluster, and she seems to be a little behind the beat for about the first half of the song. I don't quite know what happened with that, but she might be in a bit of danger.

Kevin sweetly talks about love, and how he hasn't experienced it yet, and I feel moderately ashamed of my prior snarkiness. We see Barry giving him excellent advice. Honestly, this is the best we've heard him sound. I cannot believe he's doing the whole thing with one hand in his pocket. I hate to say it, but that may have been good enough to push Lisa Tucker out this week. Even Simon didn't hate it, although more because it was well-marketed than because it was well-sung. I wonder why they couldn't have found a way to dress Kevin that didn't emphasize his scrawniness.

Elliott comes right out and says that he didn't like Barry Manilow's music, but now he's a fan. Barry tries to get Elliott to "crawl into the story" of the song. Elliott sings "Teach Me Tonight," channeling Al Jarreau and making me think of Moonlighting. It's just a'ight for me, but then I simply don't get what people see in Elliott. Simon says his singing was "fantastic."

Barry didn't know "Walkin' After Midnight"? How is that possible? Barry does this weird thing where he tries to get Kellie to understand what the hell she's singing about, which is an entirely new thought to her. And the payoff . . . is disappointingly unimpressive. The effort of thinking about the story of the song is too much for her, I think. Paula says "This was a true, authentic Kellie Pickler performance," which sounds as if it means something but actually doesn't. Simon thought it was just great. Hmm. Maybe I missed something.

Ace will do a jazzy version of "In the Still of the Night." You know, I really want to like Ace, and certainly there were some very lovely moments in his performance, but overall it was not that great. He'll surely make it through, because he was good enough and he's looking exceptionally hot tonight, but I don't know how much longer he can last.

I would put Lisa at the bottom, then Bucky, then Taylor (seriously!).

How about an anti-theme night?

I propose an anti-theme night on American Idol. Each contestant is assigned a song that does not remotely fit his or her voice, and we get to see who rises to the occasion. Off the top of my head, I would propose the following:

Mandisa: just about anything by Live
Kellie: "I Get a Kick Out of You"
Elliott: "Minnie the Moocher"
Chris: just about anything by Cher
Katharine: just about anything by Courtney Love
Lisa: "Sin Wagon"
Ace: "Climb Ev'ry Mountain"
Paris: "Moon River"
Taylor: "Paper Roses"
Kevin: anything that has notes

News briefs

The election of a bishop coadjutor for the Diocese of Tennessee will resume on Saturday.

I put my house on the market last Wednesday and sold it yesterday for just under my asking price. "Always get realtor recommendations from church friends" is one of my new theological principles.

I came out to my mother on Saturday. I'd love to write a lyrical and moving coming-out story, but I don't really do lyrical and moving, and besides, what is there to say? She cried, but she also said all the stuff you really want to hear about how this doesn't make any difference to her love for me. She called me back on Sunday and suggested (at least I think this is what she meant) that if she could have kept me from becoming an Episcopalian I wouldn't be leading such an unscriptural life now. She's very grieved, but the worst is probably over, and eventually she and I will talk about Scripture and she'll be every bit as scandalized that I don't read Genesis literally as she is that I have a boyfriend.

The Bishop sent me a lovely note in reply to my last Ember Week letter. He wants to get together and talk the next time I'm home.

You might want to read this not altogether heartening account of an interview with the Archbishop of Canterbury.

The Teaching Company wants me to do a course for them. I'm delighted that I survived the exhaustive screening process, delighted to have a chance to reach a larger audience, and curious about whether I'll make any appreciable money as a result.

A couple things about Bishops

Today the Special Commission reported to the House of Bishops, gathered at the Kanuga Conference Center. The news item doesn't give us any specifics about the work of the Commission thus far.

Meanwhile, the Diocese of Tennessee, in which I was confirmed, is voting today on a bishop coadjutor. For a while it looked as though the clergy were converging on Fr Winston Charles of Christ Church, Raleigh, who is viewed as a moderate-progressive, while the laity were converging on Canon Neil Michell of the Diocese of Dallas, who is affiliated with the Network. But the last few ballots have seen both orders migrating toward Canon James Magness of the Diocese of Kentucky, though there is still a majority for Canon Michell among the lay delegates.

See Guanilo's Island for these characerizations of the nominees. Votes are being posted here; there have been twelve ballots so far. The diocesan website provides a good deal of information about the nominees.

Midweek musings

Sunday went well, I think. No one threw anything at me, though there was one famously cantankerous parishioner who wanted to argue with me about how The Passion of the Christ was anti-Semitic.

It was also instructive to experience all three services at Saint Swithin's, thought it was not a typical Sunday, since the Rector was out of town and lots of the parish was away on spring break. The early, said service was a by-the-Book Rite One, my favorite of the day. The middle, "contemporary" service used some unspeakable new service music that I sincerely hope never to hear again, a Marty Haugen atrocity that I remember well from my days playing lots of RC masses, and Eucharistic Prayer C, for which I must confess a strange fondness. The third, choral service had simply wonderful music from start to finish (overlooking, in Christian charity, the choir's massacre of the Psalm setting) and Prayer C again.

Then back in the evening for something new that has developed in the last month. It appears that the Rector got the "young adults" together to ask them what they wanted and the answer was Solemn Evensong. I kid you not. Every Sunday evening at 5:00 there will be Evensong with plainsong settings of the Psalms, canticles, responses, and prayers, plus incense. Afterwards the young adults have dinner together -- one of them cooks for everyone, generally. We were a small crowd (spring break, as I've said), but a few good voices singing the Psalms in a very generous acoustic make for a glorious time of worship.

I took Monday and Tuesday off -- I certainly needed the break -- and today it's back to work. I have to get my house ready to put on the market, and I need to do some serious reading for my book project.

Sermon for the Second Sunday in Lent

The Second Sunday in Lent (Year B)
Saint Swithin's Church
12 March 2006

I speak to you in the name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Just before the Gospel read today, Peter says to Jesus, "You are the Messiah." That declaration is so important that it gets its own feast day, The Feast of the Confession of Saint Peter. Today is, unofficially, The Feast of the Comeuppance of Saint Peter. We move from "You are the Messiah" to "Get behind me, Satan" in just four verses. Mark paints a vivid picture here. It contains a stinging rebuke to Peter, but it also implies a stinking rebuke to us. This is not a comfortable passage, and you may not care for this sermon.

After Peter has made his great acknowledgment that Jesus is the Messiah – that is, the one anointed by God, or in Greek, the Christ – Jesus explain what that really means. "He began to explain that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering." Notice that he shifts from Peter’s title, "Messiah," to the more mysterious title, "Son of Man." Even that small detail is packed with meaning. "Messiah" is a recognized title, with a theology and an ideology already built up around it, and when Peter uses it, he means something quite specific. But all the evidence is that "Son of Man" was not a recognized title, so it was available for Jesus to use it of himself and invest it with a meaning of his own shaping. In the Gospels it is always Jesus himself who gives himself this title. It alludes to Daniel 7: "I saw in the night visions, and, behold, one like the Son of man came with the clouds of heaven, and came to the Ancient of Days, and they brought him near before him. And there was given him dominion, and glory, and a kingdom, that all people, nations, and languages, should serve him: his dominion is an everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away, and his kingdom that which shall not be destroyed." A Son of Man is a human being, but a human being given divine authority and lordship.

Jesus does not disclaim the title "Messiah," for he is indeed the Anointed One of God – just not the warrior king of the contemporary imagination. But he prefers to call himself "the Son of Man," so that the true nature of his kingdom and of his divine authority is clear. Now up to this point, both times the title "Son of Man" has appeared in Mark, it has been associated with lordship and authority. The Son of Man has power to forgive sins (2:10), and the Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath (2:28). So it is jarring when Jesus begins "to explain that the Son of Man must undergo suffering." He continues by saying that the Son of Man "will be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes." The word translated ‘rejected’ (apodokimasthenai) is interesting. It means that authorities will subject him to scrutiny, will examine his credentials, and find them insufficient. It’s the word you would use for a job applicant who gets turned down for lack of experience. Jesus will put in for the Messiahship, and his application will be tossed. As a result the Son of Man will be killed, though after three days he will rise again.

At this point Peter has had enough. He takes Jesus aside to chew him out. As one commentator puts it, "Peter for the moment stops being a disciple; for disciples follow behind their teacher at a little distance." Jesus turns around and sees the rest of the disciples – who are in their proper place, following him – and rebukes Peter in the sharpest possible words: "Get behind me, Satan." "Get behind me": go back to your proper place as my disciple, following me, not presuming to instruct me or rebuke me, but accepting my instruction and my rebuke, however hard they might be for you to take. "Satan": you have undertaken the devil’s work, attempting to thwart what God must do in order to assert your own ego, your own agenda, your own mistaken sense of the way things ought to be.

And here I’m not happy with the translation. What the Greek really says is this: "You are not thinking the things of God, but the things of human beings." What are "the things of God"? In the context, they have to be the divinely appointed suffering, rejection, death, and resurrection of Christ. And the things of human beings are a view of God’s activity that leaves no room for the passion and resurrection. The things of human beings are safe, plausible, and comforting. They offer no scandal, no hard sayings, nothing that would outrage the sensibilities of good-hearted secularists, nothing that would get us laughed at on Oscar night or looked askance at by editorial writers at The New York Times. The things of God are an offense and a stumbling-block. "We preach Christ crucified," Saint Paul says, "a stumbling-block to Jews and folly to Gentiles."

Except, too often, we don’t. We make the sign of the cross on ourselves, we decorate our churches with crosses, we embroider crosses on purificators and stamp them on the tasteless wafers that sometimes pass for bread, but how often do we really preach Christ crucified? "In the cross of Christ I glory," we sometimes sing – but do we really glory in the cross of Christ? I get the impression that we’re embarrassed by it. I remember the hoohah over Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ, and how quick many of us Episcopalians were to dismiss it. Now I didn’t see it myself – I don’t really care for bloody movies, and bloody movies with subtitles are a double abomination – but the contempt and hostility with which that movie was greeted in certain circles seemed strangely excessive to me. A friend of mine from another parish explained to me dismissively that the movie was based on the visions of some Roman Catholic mystic rather than strictly on Scripture. Now I’m sorry, no one loves Anglicans and Anglicanism more than I do, but when a progressive Episcopalian pretends to reject something because it’s not Scriptural enough, you know something very odd has happened.

We act as though we’re ashamed of it. We’re embarrassed by the whole idea of the Cross, of Atonement and sacrifice, of blood shed, not as a tragic miscarriage of human justice, but for our sake. We shrink from the mystery of our redemption, preferring to take easy refuge in cliches about God’s love and refusing to face up to the scandalous claim that "Christ suffered for sins, once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, in order to bring you to God." But we dare not be ashamed, for Jesus says, "Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels." Again, when Jesus speaks of "those who are ashamed of me," he means those who are ashamed of the Cross, those who, like Peter, prefer a plausible, culturally acceptable Jesus, a Jesus whose words and actions cause no scandal to good-hearted secularists and right-thinking, reasonable, modern people.

Right-thinking, reasonable, modern people, I sometimes hear, can’t believe in these archaic notions of Atonement and sacrifice, of blood poured out for the redemption of the human race. So, the argument goes, we shouldn’t teach such things any more. But this is a pathetic argument. The scandal of the Cross is nothing new. It has always been a rebuke to right-thinking, reasonable, modern people, whether ‘modern’ is the first century or the twenty-first. Let me quote Saint Paul again: "We preach Christ crucified, a stumbling-block to Jews and folly to Gentiles." Already, in the first generation of the Church, Paul recognizes that the preaching of the Cross is at cross-purposes with the prevailing thought of Jews and Gentiles alike – in other words, everybody. Yet he says, "the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God."

So are we ashamed of the Cross? Do we neuter it, eviscerate it, by making it a decoration and an emblem but turning away from its harsh reality, from the demands it makes on our thinking, from the jeers and contempt of right-thinking, reasonable, modern people?

Am I ashamed of the Cross? I say I believe all this stuff, and I think I do. But do I really? Do I like Rite One because of its uncompromising portrayal of the truth that "Christ suffered for sins, once for all," or do I just like old stuff? Do I really believe that the cost of my redemption was so great? Do I really believe that my sins demanded so brutal a remedy?

"Lord, I believe. Help thou mine unbelief."

Today’s Gospel is full of Uncomfortable Words. If we wish to be disciples of Jesus, we must get behind him. We must think the things of God, when it is easier and more satisfying to think the things of human beings. We must, in other words, take up the Cross. We must preach Christ crucified, though that means subjecting ourselves to the jeers and contempt of right-thinking, reasonable, modern people – indeed, the jeers and contempt that will come from our own half-converted minds.

Yet the Scriptures do not speak a word of judgment without also speaking a word of grace, and neither will I. This daunting Gospel is followed by the story of the Transfiguration. Jesus crucified is Jesus exalted, and those who take up their cross will have their share not only in the shame but also in the glory of the one who, by his holy cross, has redeemed the world.

To him, with the co-eternal Father and Holy Spirit, be ascribed, as is most justly due, all might, dominion, majesty, and power, world without end. Amen.

Determining the final twelve

My guesses are rarely right, but I'll predict that Kevin, Bucky, Melissa, and Kinnik leave tonight.
Bo returns and talks about singing to his son every day. He's going to sing his single, "The Real Thing," which I heard today on XM for the first time. The radio mix is tame and sweet and doesn't actually sound much like Bo, but tonight he's rocking out on the chorus, not altogether tunefully. He never sounded this bad last season, except of course on his tragic assault on "Corner of the Sky."

First we see the eight girls. Lisa is safe, as commanded by Simon. Melissa is safe -- for now. Ayla glares with frightening intensity until she is told she's safe; then she smiles beautifully. Kinnink is told abruptly that she's going home. She carries herself with remarkably dignity, like an exceedingly restrained and elegant drag queen, and then sings in just the way that got her booted off. Do they still have the Star Search spokesmodel competition? Because she'd be a lock for that one.

And now we lose a guy. Kevin is safe but still looks scared. Gedeon closes his eyes, bracing for bad news that doesn't come. Bucky too is safe. Now we know it's not going to be Elliott, right? So surely it's Will . . . and indeed it is. He is just adorable and sweet, and even Simon has to say he likes him. And since I actually liked this performance, I'm perfectly happy to see it again.

We return to the girls. I think Paris was genuinely worried, but she is the first to take her seat in this Titanic-paced version of musical chairs. Katharine follows close behind. Kellie could easily have a heart attack before she gets the unsurprising news. Simon will get to see Mandisa on a bigger stage. The whole sorority sister thing going on over in the Pit of the Twelve is something to behold. They don't even try for suspense with Lisa. So it's either Ayla or Melissa who will go home . . . after the break.

And surprisingly, it's Ayla who goes home. Song choice really makes all the difference, doesn't it? Ayla is understandably tearful. They must be running a bit ahead of schedule, because they're giving this lots of time. Simon, again, is gracious: "It wasn't you, it was the song. You should hold your head up." The poor girl sings wretchedly, but it's a wonder she can hold it together at all.

Now the men. Apparently America hasn't reached its point of complete annoyance with Taylor, and Ace coasts through on cuteness and promise. Chris and Ryan do this adorable new butch hug thing they do when Chris, predictably, gets through. Kevin is visibly shocked to make it through. Whose stupid idea was it to have the Brittenum twins in the audience? Shouldn't they be serving time somewhere? Elliott makes it, leaving us with just Bucky and Gedeon. . . .

Another surprise! It's Gedeon, who speaks creepily but sings pretty darn well (better than Bucky, certainly). Paris looks inconsolable. Gedeon opens his mouth wider than any other human being in recorded history.

I'm not really sure that "Bad Day" is the kindest song to be playing under to the goodbye montage. The closing frame is all about Chris and Ryan. That can't be an accident.

Quick takes on the guys

Remarkably, all the men turned in creditable performances last night. Gedeon did as well he has it in him to do, which is pretty good, but he's not one of the very best of the guys, and I cannot stand the way he talks. Chris is a bit off his game while remaining hands-down the best singer. Kevin offers us his first performance without pitch problems. He sings expressively, but even at its best, his voice is thin and quavery; the vibrato isn't quite under control, and the overall effect is a tad cartoonish. Bucky is squarely average. Will is charming and sweet and sounds quite good. Taylor indulges every tic and twitch in his repertoire, and although the vocal performance is pretty good, it's not nearly good enough to make me overlook the rest of the package. Elliott gives a limp and lifeless performance; he hits the notes, but the tone isn't especially appealing and his whole affect is a dud. Though everyone over at Althouse is hating on Ace, he really does have an extraordinarily nice falsetto, and his singing was quite effective. It's just too bad be picked that horrendous song.

American Idol will return after these messages

I'm actually having a social life tonight, so American Idol blogging will occur late, assuming I've programmed the new VCR correctly.

Ember letter #3

Dear Bishop:

When I was on the faculty at the University, I used to be grateful for the annual exercise of submitting a new CV to the Dean, with a page summarizing my professional activity for the year gone by. It was a good time to evaluate my productivity, to consider missed opportunities, and to reassess my priorities for the coming year. I was usually pleasantly surprised by what emerged.

These Ember Week letters come at a brisker pace, but I’m finding that they serve a similar function for me. The discipline of taking stock every three months is salutary, and in this case it arrests the feeling, which had been growing on me of late, that I’m not really getting anywhere. It turns out that I am getting somewhere; it just wasn’t where I intended to be going, so I wouldn’t have noticed the progress if I hadn’t been forced to attend to it.

I suppose the most striking thing is the sharp and decided lurch my academic work has taken in the direction of theology. Since my last letter to you I’ve accepted invitations to write two articles (one historical and one not) on theological topics and a book review on the new biography of Augustine, and to participate in a symposium at the next meeting of the American Academy of Religion. My academic work is looking more and more like that of a seminary professor all the time.

I have preached twice: at Saint Swithin's on Epiphany 6, and at SS Simon and Jude, Barchester, on Lent 1. I was quite pleased with how things went at Saint Swithin's, but last Sunday’s sermon was another matter. Perhaps it was just because I was pressed for time – my academic schedule has been surprisingly frantic, and I was out of town for the previous three days to give a talk at Wayne State – but I never quite felt good about that sermon. (I’m enclosing a copy anyway. The Epiphany 6 sermon is on the Saint Swithin's website, if you’re curious.) I put a lot of prayer and study into it, but I clearly also need time to let ideas percolate. I’m scheduled to preach again (all three services) at Saint Swithin's this coming Sunday and at SS Simon and Jude on Good Friday. I’m trying to work in as much preaching as I can, but I’m doing a good deal more playing than preaching. I’ve played nine Sundays in the last three months, and the extra income has been absolutely crucial.

Money, actually, has been the main area in which I can see real spiritual growth. This has been an area of serious transformation for me over the last couple of years, but especially in my time on sabbatical this year. My partner was scandalized a few years back when he found I wasn’t anywhere close to tithing, and of course he was right to be surprised. I made a commitment to increase the proportion of my giving by 1% of my income each year until I reached the tithe. Then the new rector came, and there was a lot of dissatisfaction, and I held back my contributions for a while and considered giving them elsewhere. But I came under conviction about that, and my attitude toward giving was really transformed. I came to enjoy giving in a way I hadn’t before and to be blessed by the opportunity to give, rather than to give or withhold my money in the same spirit in which I give or withhold my vote.

2005 was my 6% year. But in the fall, when I was planning my stay here in Barchester, I calculated my budget and found that the cost of keeping up two residences would put me in the hole each month by almost exactly the amount of my pledge to Saint Swithin's. I was sorely tempted – and I think I do mean tempted – to stop paying my pledge so that I could afford to take my sabbatical without going into debt. But I decided to be faithful to my commitments, and God has abundantly blessed that decision. The money I have been able to make playing the organ has exceeded the amount of my expected deficit. And this has been the second transformation in the financial side of my spiritual life. The first transformation was from a sense of duty to a spirit of delight; the second transformation has been from calculating what I can afford to trusting God to honor the faithfulness that he has granted me. The result: this year I’m tithing, three years ahead of schedule, and with a joy and abandon that I would not have thought possible.

I hope that your Lenten observance brings you more deeply into the mystery of Christ and renews your strength for the work God has set before you. You are, as always, in my prayers.

Yours obediently,

The Postulant

American Idol: the top 8 women

There are eight women left. Two must go.

Ryan looks dishevelled and haggard. The women look poised and ready. Paula looks pickled.

Paris has royally screwed herself by choosing Gloria Estefan's "Conga." It's forced and pitchy; her dancing is considerably more comfortable than her singing. This sort of thing reminds you of how good Ms Estefan actually is. Randy wants Paris to challenge herself, but that's the wrong advice. She did challenge herself with this, and she lost. Paula just brilliantly slammed her without saying anything nasty. Brava! "You made some interesting choices melodically; they certainly captured my attention." Hell yes! Simon instructs American to vote her through.

Lisa shows us how it's supposed to be done. The confidence and control really stand out after Paris. Too bad the song is a snoozefest, because the performance is as strong as it can be, given the material. Randy wants her not to be so old, wants her to overornament the melody (at least, I think that's what "slay it" and "do the runs" means). Whatever. Paula and Simon both are skeptical about the song choice, but they like Lisa, as they should.

Melissa continues the "I'm really a tomboy theme" of the evening, which is really odd. She sings Heart's "What About Love?" Good for her: she's bringing her A-game tonight. She knows she has to stand out if she's going to stay. Personally, I like the smokiness and intensity. She seems majorly relieved at the end, oddly. Randy proves again that he doesn't know what 'sharp' means, but he liked it, as did Paula. Simon thought the last note earned her a ticket home, and I have to admit that I was too busy typing at the end to hear the last note. Maybe Simon was right, and Melissa's big expulsion of breath at the end was self-recrimination rather than relief.

Kinnik has chosen a dreadful song and she's having serious pitch problems. This is her last appearance, I think. Yet she gets a standing ovation for some reason. Randy loved the song, says it started out amazing (wrong!), went sharp (wrong! unless by 'sharp' he means 'flat'), stayed sharp. Paula even admits the pitch was bad. Simon is predicting her departure. He's used up that line for the night, I suppose. I'm impressed by her good attitude after the really dismaying comments from the judges, but I doubt that will be enough to save her.

Katharine sings Aretha! Bold, or foolhardy? OK, I repent of everything bad I've said about her, because that was seriously first-rate. That was Kelly-Clarkson-on-big-band-night good. Effortless singing. (I used the word before Simon did, I should point out.) Splendid. If I weren't a big homo I'd be so into her.

Ayla is overwhelmed by her song, by the backup singers, by the band, by her complete inability to support in her lower register. It's not awful, by any means, but it's not great. Standing ovation, of course. Randy nails it when he says it's "not a great singer-song."

Mandisa sings "I'm Every Woman," which is hard for me to like, so I suppose it's not surprising that I don't warm to this performance. Vocally it's quite good, though. Randy grossly overpraised it. Best this season? Not even best tonight -- and I really like Mandisa. Simon says it was in a different league from the other women. So maybe it really was that good, and my intense and unreasoning hatred of anything remotely connected with Chaka Khan blinded me to its fabulousness.

And finally it's Our Lady of Cornpone. And darn it if she doesn't do Melissa Etheridge proud. Yeah, it gets screechy a bit in the middle, but Kellie can sing with passion and real feeling for the lyrics when she puts her mind to it. One of the best performances of the evening. Simon calls er a "naughty little minx," which is high praise for her. I don't believe it! He just said he likes her better than Carrie Underwood. Then Kellie ruins it all by saying she's a mink. That poor, deluded, stupid, talented child.

Recaps: Paris makes me wince, Lisa makes me unclench, Melissa rocks, Kinnik disappears, Katharine soars, Ayla strains, Mandisa belts beautifully, Kellie nails it.

Last Sunday's sermon

Speaking of preaching, here's my sermon from last Sunday at my old parish, the Church of St Simon and St Jude in Barchester. I had all kinds of trouble preparing this sermon, partly because I was quite busy with academic work but partly because the readings were so forbidding. That passage from 1 Peter is desperately obscure, and Mark is not forthcoming about the details of the Temptation in the way other Evangelists are. The priest-theologian who concelebrated was very complimentary: he liked the way I set up the contrast between our baptism and Christ's and he said the sermon taught sound doctrine, was attentive to the particulars of the lessons, and was appropriate for the season. All of which was quite nice -- and exactly what I was going for -- but I still felt the whole thing was just too theologically chewy. I was much happier with the sermon I preached on Epiphany 6 at Saint Swithin's (posted elsewhere on the web under my onw name). I guess it can't be great every time.

The First Sunday in Lent (Year B)
Church of St Simon and St Jude, Barchester
4 March 2006

I speak to you in the name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Jesus was baptized, and I was baptized. Mark tells me that Jesus was baptized by John in the Jordan. Peter tells me that baptism now saves me. But these can’t be the same baptism, right? Baptism now saves me – but Jesus did not need to be saved. He was not lost. He had no sins to repent. But I am in need of salvation, though I am only fitfully aware of my need – and indeed the fitfulness of my recognition is but one evidence of the greatness of my need.

Jesus was baptized, and I was baptized. But these can’t be the same baptism, right? The water of the Jordan could not purify Jesus, but he hallowed the water of the Jordan by the purity of his presence. And I – I can only profane the water of baptism by the sins that I commit, the sins that stifle the growth of the new life that was inaugurated in me when I was baptized.

But here’s another comparison. Jesus was tempted, and I am tempted. And now we’re getting somewhere, because temptation is temptation – the only difference being that Jesus never succumbed to it, as I too often do. And Mark links the temptation of Jesus with his baptism in a very direct and striking way.

Look first at what Mark says about the baptism of Jesus. What concerns Mark above everything else is the acknowledgment of Jesus as the Son of God. At his baptism Jesus is acknowledged by the Father, in the voice from heaven: "You are my beloved Son; in you I am well-pleased." Jesus is acknowledged as well by the Holy Spirit, descending like a dove.

And yet this same Spirit immediately drives Jesus out into the wilderness. Mark wants us to know that Jesus does not go courting temptation; he does not go looking for Satan, spoiling for a fight. Nor does Satan go looking for Jesus – how could he dare, when the Father has attested that Jesus is his beloved Son, and the Spirit has descended upon him like a dove? It is only because the Spirit drives Jesus into the wilderness that Jesus and Satan contend with one another.

What does it mean that the Spirit descends on Jesus and then drives him into the wilderness? At this point in his Gospel, Mark has told us only one thing about the Holy Spirit. In the verse right before our reading for today, John the Baptist says that he baptized with water, but someone is coming who will baptize with the Holy Spirit. Now we see that Jesus baptizes with the Holy Spirit because he is himself baptized with the Holy Spirit.

This does not mean that Jesus now receives the Holy Spirit for the first time. It means that at his baptism the Holy Spirit comes upon Jesus in a new way, to inaugurate his ministry on our behalf. And the first step is that he must face temptation as he will later face the Cross, not because he has to, not because he deserves to, but so that his identification with us will be total, so that the Spirit will not be quenched but will make us new in the power of the victory that is won on the Cross.

1 Peter tells us that Christ "suffered for sins." His temptation was the beginning of the sufferings that would culminate in the Cross. He suffered for sins – not for his own sins, for he had none, but for ours. So in baptism he did not receive the Holy Spirit in order to be saved, but in order to save; and the Spirit drove him into the wilderness so that he would face, on our behalf, the temptation that he did not have to face, and that Satan could not otherwise have dared to inflict. "Christ . . . suffered for sins . . . the righteous for the unrighteous, in order to bring you to God."

Because Jesus was – and remains – a human being, he was able to identify himself with us in every respect. Because Jesus was – and remains – God, everything he does has an infinite meaning and an infinite power. And that is what Peter is getting at when he goes on to say that Christ "was put to death in the flesh, but made alive in the spirit." His death takes place in sphere of the flesh, of his earthly existence in time and history; but in that death is an infinite meaning and an infinite power, so that his resurrection takes place in the sphere of the Spirit, which is unquenchable, indestructible, and eternal.

So the Spirit drives Jesus into the wilderness to face the temptations that come to the flesh, just as the Spirit will impel Jesus to face the Cross on which he was put to death in the flesh: all so that he could triumph over temptation in the Spirit, so that he could be made alive in the Spirit, so that the infinite power of his triumph and his resurrection could be made available to us, so that he could bring us to God.

And this is why Peter continues as he does. Baptism saves us, he says, not because water has any power in itself, but because the Spirit in whom Christ has been made alive broods over the waters of baptism and incorporates us into "the resurrection of Jesus Christ, who has gone into heaven and is at the right hand of God, with angels, authorities, and powers made subject to him."

Now look again at the beginning of the passage from 1 Peter. I have been skipping a word. He does not merely say "Christ suffered." He says "Christ also suffered." That’s because he has just been talking about our sufferings. He is giving encouragement to the Christians of his own day: yes, you are suffering, but Christ suffered too. And in his sufferings Christ won a perfect victory, once for all, a victory to which we cannot add, but which we can claim for ourselves if we have been incorporated into the resurrection of Christ through the waters of baptism.

This is what Lent ought to be about. I sometimes hear people talking about Lent as though it were all about psychological manipulation. We deprive ourselves for a while so that when Easter comes, we’ll feel more joyful. We inflict petty sufferings on ourselves – giving up chocolate or what have you – so that when Easter comes, we’ll get a nice feeling of relief. But we do not suffer in Lent in order to play mind games on ourselves. We suffer in Lent so that we can identify more deeply with Christ, who identified himself so deeply with us. We should not be thinking, "What should I give up for this Lent?" but rather "What is one way in which I need to be conformed to Christ this Lent?"

Jesus was baptized, and I was baptized. And these are the same baptism, because Jesus has identified himself with us so that we can be incorporated into him. The Spirit drove Jesus into the wilderness to suffer temptation, and the Spirit drives us, who have been baptized into Christ, into the wilderness of Lent to be formed into a closer likeness of the one who for our sake made himself subject to death, even death on a Cross.

And so, to the Name that is above every Name, to Jesus our Savior and Lord, with the co-eternal Father and Holy Spirit, be ascribed, as is most justly due, all might, dominion, majesty, and power, world without end. Amen.

Ember Week again?

How can it be an Ember Week again already? I need to write my letter tomorrow. In one way this has been a pretty uneventful time. I haven't been able to do any Clinical Pastoral Education or field education, and the Bishop never set me up with the priest-mentor he kept mentioning. If there are any aspirants to ministry out there, here's a bit of advice. Don't be afraid to take matters into your own hands. The Bishop said he'd initiate the connection with the mentor, but when it became apparent that he wasn't going to, I should have either nudged the Bishop or gone directly to the mentor. One can wait out one's entire postulancy waiting for other people to make things happen.

Yet in some ways I've been quite busy. I've preached three times: twice at my old parish in Barchester (Advent 3, Lent 1) and once at Saint Swithin's (Epiphany 6). I'm scheduled to preach again at Saint Swithin's (Lent 2) and in Barchester (Good Friday). I've helped plan a Solemn Evensong, played a dozen services or so, and talked church with all sorts and conditions of men.

And best of all, my intellectual life is moving in a decidedly theological direction. Just today I signed a contract for a heavily theological piece in a collection on medieval philosophy, agreed to review an intellectual biography of a great medieval theologian, and got invited to contribute a piece on theological method for a new volume from Oxford. Increasingly I will look like a plausible candidate for a job teaching at a seminary. Granted, that's not what I really want -- I want to be a parish priest -- but it's a move in the right direction.

No boy-blogging tonight

No, I'm not giving up American Idol for Lent. But I'm playing for the 7 pm Eucharist tonight, so I'll miss the first part of the show, and then the last half-hour conflicts with Lost. Now at a later stage, American Idol would take precedence, but we're not quite there yet.