All-purpose-church-guy

My jobs for the next few Sundays at Saint Luke's:

August 31: organist

September 7: deacon

September 14 & 21: tenor

September 28: preacher

I have become all-purpose-church-guy.

It's fun, though I note that the one thing I'm really good at -- teaching -- isn't on the list yet. Pray for me tomorrow, if you happen to think of it. I'm most definitely not at the top of my game as an organist any more, and my game was never all that great to begin with.

On the virtue of justice

The virtue of charity is a gift of God, a mark of the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, the badge of identity by which the followers of Christ will be known.

The virtue of justice is a more modest affair. If charity is the meat of the Christian life, justice is the milk, the basic elements of the oracles of God for those who are not yet skilled in the word of righteousness. We can hardly claim to have digested the solid food given to the mature in Christ when we can't even swallow the milk.

But simple, natural, elementary justice is in short supply. We are eager to believe terrible things about those with whom we disagree about politics or church affairs. We credit stories about them that, if told about someone we liked, we would see through immediately. We never ask ourselves the simple questions that someone who is seeking to be just is perpetually asking -- and someone who is reliably just asks and answers almost without thought, with virtuosity and flair: questions like, "Would I find this criticism cogent if it were directed against a friend? Would I credit a rumor this thinly sourced if it were being spread about an ally? Do I hold those who attack my opponents to the same standards of evidence and argument that I demand from those who attack my friends?"

We lament sometimes the lack of charity that is shown in our current unpleasantness. That's like lamenting a bad score on the SAT when it turns out we've never even learned to read.

Numbered

I hate even to contemplate a relaxing of standards, but I am beginning to think that my days of wearing suits in 90+ weather are numbered.

And I don't just mean that in the sense in which the hairs of my head are numbered.

Idle thoughts at the end of an unproductive day

It would appear that whoever chose the music for this Sunday at Saint Luke's is actively trying to give me a heart attack.

Facebook is becoming a pestilence.

Why do people always, always, say "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone"? They wouldn't say "Let they eat cake," would they?

Coming up for air

Today I

• fielded e-mails from a former student with serious mental health issues who I think is getting ready to take a turn for the worse,
• reassured a friend that my failure to reply to her last e-mail within 24 hours was not a sign that she had mysteriously angered me in some way,
• generated marketing copy for the book to replace the thoroughly erroneous material being disseminated on Amazon, the press website, and the proposed back cover of the book itself,
• ducked a question from my Ikerian classmate about my thoughts on the current unpleasantness, and
  
• struggled with my exegetical paper on John, taking hours just to get from 14:3 to 14:6 (but crafting a gratifying little defense of my namesake apostle in 14:5).

Oh: and I came up for air just long enough to write an exceptionally uninteresting post on my blog.

So this is just to say that things are pretty busy right now and blogging will continue to be light. Things should settle down next week when classes start back.

The heart-cry of a frustrated scholar

Shouldn't I be well beyond the point of misplacing my modifiers? Yet, reading over the paper I'm working on, I find the following:

When taken as descriptive claims, many interpreters find (b) and (c) flatly indefensible.

I mean, come on.

This paper is going to be death of me. I have 1889 words so far -- the fact that I'm doing word counts should tell you something -- and have managed to write exactly one interesting sentence.

And no, that sentence isn't it.

The visitor-smothering church

Brother Thomas has a very interesting post about misguided friendliness and unintentionally unwelcoming liturgy. Do take a look.

This one thing I know

There's still a lot that's unclear about what's going to happen in the Diocese of My Sojourn. But one thing I know: I served as deacon this morning at Saint Luke's, with the permission of the Bishop.

The book cover (sort of)

The book is part of a series, so the cover design is standard, except for the color. My co-author hates the color, but I rather like it.

The title will actually be much larger, but my Photoshop abilities are limited.

A functional change, not an ontological one

It just occurred to me: my promotion to Professor is effective today. Yay!

The next Ember Days

The usual PSA: the next Ember Days are September 17, 19, and 20.

The canons don't require Ember Week letters from transitional deacons, but I'm going to write one anyway. The Bishop might as well know what I've been up to. It's too bad works of supererogation cannot be taught without impiety.

Diaconal divagations

A few quick notes:

• I've managed so far to follow my chart pretty well. Last week I finished one paper for an edited volume, started another, and wrote comments on two papers that other people had asked me to review. This week will be tougher.
• I'm still on hold in the DomS. The local rector and I have a disagreement about strategy. I think the only way to get the Bishop to make a decision will be for me to go ahead and start serving as a deacon so that my clock starts ticking, whereas Fr Mike thinks my long-term prospects in the Diocese will be better if I get a yes before I do anything (and he also thinks he can help the Bishop see a semi-non-threatening way to say yes). Since he is one of the senior priests in the Diocese and I'm just a random guy, I'm going to do things his way.
• In the meantime, I got a chance yesterday to serve as deacon a couple of dioceses over, thanks to a priest friend. She and her husband are the most generously hospitable people I've ever known, and it was a joy to be with them, quite apart from the fine liturgy and excellent music of which I got to be a part.
• It was a decent-sized space, and ordinarily the deacon would be miked -- but only one microphone could be found, so I just tried to boom. Fortunately I have a pretty big voice, but my "Ye who do earnestly repent you of your sins" at the 8:00 must have sounded like a nasty threat, and I wondered whether anyone at the 10:00 reacted to the reading of the Gospel by wondering "Why is the deacon yelling at me?"