Sermon for Proper 21, Year A

The sermon itself is just Meh, maybe Meh-plus, but the sound quality on the recording is good. And since I've posted the other sermons for which I have audio, it seems right somehow not to suppress my more Laodicean efforts.

A grateful and (mostly) non-snarky post about liturgy

Tonight one of the local parishes offered a Choral Eucharist for the Feast of Saint Michael and All Angels. It was absolutely lovely. A good choir of eleven sang the Darke Communion Service in F, there was a congregation of, oh, I'd say forty, the hymns were excellent, and the parish's director of Christian education preached a fine sermon. (If a good editor had got hold of it and cut about a third, it would have been a very fine sermon indeed.) I am enormously grateful to them for having offered such an opportunity for worship, and I hope they do it again soon.

A little something to get you in the mood for church tomorrow

While I'm struggling to get my hands on the excellent sermon that I can just feel is trying to emerge from the drivel I'm currently writing, I thought Lee Hoiby's wonderful setting of tomorrow's Epistle might do us all some good.

My new Wednesday-night project

Tonight, for the first time, I preached without a text.

It sucked.

I hate, hate, not having a text. Even though I knew what I wanted to say and had thought it through carefully, I felt nervous and disoriented. My pacing was awful. I struggled for words. I did actually manage to say more or less what I had intended to say and make the "moves" I had intended to make, but there was no fluidity, no grace, no finesse. I felt as though I was constantly on the verge of becoming irretrievably lost.

I did learn some things. Writing out a text and then hoping to reproduce something really close to it from memory is not the way for me to go. Instead, I need a simple outline in my head and a few set phrases that I can call upon when I need them. I've never been an outline guy, but a carefully-consider-every-word-and-write-it-all-out guy. Even in my teaching I produce detailed lecture notes. Granted, I tend not to look at my notes all that much. But they're there if I need them, or if the exact wording of something is crucial -- in an argument, say, or a quotation. In a conversational, outlinish, text-free sermon, I'd better not be planning to do anything where the exact wording is crucial, lest I court opportunities for losing a game of chicken with my own capricious memory.

So this is my Wednesday-night project now: to get used to preaching without a text. It will never be my favorite way to preach, but I need to have at my disposal a style of preaching that is more suited for a small, intimate service in a small, intimate space than the rather old-fashioned, formal, rhetorical style that works for me on Sunday morning.

The sweet "well done" at dinner hour

I was determined not to leave the office yesterday until I finished that referee's report I owed the Journal of Important Scholarship. It took me a whole day, chained to a desk piled high with volumes of Scotus, but at last I was done. Some thoughts:

(1) I have these weak moments in which I vaguely understand why some people find medieval philosophy tedious. Fortunately I am skilled by now at suppressing such pseudo-insights.

(2) Even Scotus occasionally just punts.

(3) Scotus would be a lot easier to translate if he had paid more attention in Latin class.

In any event, I finally went home in a glow of the satisfaction that comes from having worked hard and well for mostly unselfish reasons. (The professional credit one gets from doing a referee's report is negligible; the benefit goes entirely to the author -- assuming the referee isn't an idiot -- and to the journal.) My sweet "well done" at dinner hour was entirely self-bestowed, but no less sweet for that.

Unfortunately, this left me woefully unprepared for my graduate seminar today. Every rose has its thorn, to quote a piece of 80s music that didn't insist on intruding itself on my consciousness during my silent time this morning. If anyone can explain why my brain decided "Total Eclipse of the Heart" would make an excellent prelude for Morning Prayer today, I will be grateful.

More seminary hiring

Seminary of the Southwest

Christian Ethics and Moral Theology

Seminary of the Southwest (SSW) in Austin, Texas, is seeking to appoint a suitably qualified candidate to a professorial chair in Christian Ethics and Moral Theology. SSW prepares those called to Christian ministry for mature, confident, and knowledgeable service within and outside the church. A seminary of the Episcopal Church, accredited by ATS and SACS, SSW emphasizes formation for both lay and ordained ministries and offers an innovative curriculum that is oriented toward the diverse forms of the church’s mission. Working collaboratively with the Lutheran Seminary Program in the Southwest and in a developing relationship with the Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, SSW engages the theological disciplines in an Episcopal setting within an ecumenical environment.

The Professor of Christian Ethics and Moral Theology will teach within all degree programs, both full and part-time. In addition to teaching required and elective courses in Christian Ethics, the successful candidate will contribute to the formation of ordained clergy within the Anglican and Episcopal tradition. The position requires full participation in the academic, pastoral, and communal life of the seminary and includes student advising, liturgical, and committee responsibilities.

Candidates should have a Ph.D. in Christian Ethics. Proven teaching ability and some familiarity with the Anglican tradition is essential.

The candidate should also demonstrate a commitment to the Church’s ministry. A person of lively faith, the appointee will have a passion for the formation of Christians in a variety of vocations and across a diversity of contemporary ecclesial contexts. Specialist interest in one or more of the following is desirable: Christian social and economic ethics, virtue ethics, medical ethics, international relations, bio-medical ethics, sexual ethics, and Anglican moral theology. SSW values a collegial working style and encourages inter- disciplinary conversation and team teaching. Women and persons of underrepresented minorities are strongly encouraged to apply. Rank is open. If appointed as Assistant Professor, the successful candidate will serve an initial three-year contract, renewable for a further three years, a tenure review to be conducted during the fifth year.

The appointment is to begin June 1, 2009.

Applications should include a cover letter responding to this position description, curriculum vitae, and three letters of recommendation. Applications should be sent to Professor Alan Gregory, Chair, Professor of Christian Ethics and Moral Theology Search Committee, Seminary of the Southwest, P.O. Box 2247, Austin, TX 78768-2247.

Deadline for applications: October 15, 2008. Interviews will be held on campus in November and early December.

If only I were a liturgist

Two of our seminaries are hiring liturgists. This does me no good, of course, but it's nice to see our seminaries hiring anybody these days.

Virginia Theological Seminary

Professor of Theology and Liturgy

Virginia Theological Seminary is searching for a professor of theology and liturgy who will help to shape the liturgical and sacramental theology for the next generation. He or she will have primary teaching responsibility in courses in liturgical and sacramental theology and will teach collaboratively with other faculty in theology. Applicants should have earned the Ph.D. or Th.D. degree and have demonstrated competence in liturgical and sacramental theology, with particular attention to the Anglican tradition.

Please send a letter of application, curriculum vitae, and the names, addresses, and phone numbers of three references by November 1, 2008. Submission electronically is requested.

The Very Rev. Ian Markham, Ph.D.
Dean and President
Virginia Theological Seminary
3737 Seminary Road
Alexandria, VA 22304
Email: klasseron@vts.edu

Church Divinity School of the Pacific

Liturgical Studies

Church Divinity School of the Pacific. Full-time, tenure-track Liturgical Studies position beginning July 1, 2009. CDSP faculty teach within the ecumenical/interfaith setting of the Graduate Theological Union at M.Div. and Ph.D. levels. They should hold the M.Div. and Ph.D. degrees or equivalents and be versed in the practice of Episcopal congregational liturgy. Engagement with cross-disciplinary approaches and the cultural contexts of liturgy are important. Christian commitment and practice, accessibility to students, concern for professional theological education, and the capacity to work in a collegial style are assets. They should bring a strong knowledge of the Anglican tradition and be conversant with Episcopal Church life. Candidates should possess an integrated understanding of the different aspects of theological education, and be willing and able to work with colleagues in all aspects of graduate professional theological education, including continuing education and electronic forms of education. Candidates will be considered to be additionally qualified if their appointment would add diversity and enrichment to the life of CDSP.Send nominations or direct applications (including curriculum vitae, and three references) to Linda L. Clader, Dean of Academic Affairs, Church Divinity School of the Pacific, 2451 Ridge Rd., Berkeley, CA 94709-1217 (e-mail: Lclader@cdsp.edu). Visit our website (http://cdsp.edu).

Hurry up and write those Ember Week letters

RFSJ+ reminds me in a comment that I should do my usual Ember Week announcement. In my defense, I did give an early warning, but it can't hurt to remind folks again. So here goes: the Ember Days are this Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday. Your Bishop is expecting to hear from you.

I sent off my letter today. As I noted in that post, the canons don't require Ember Week letters from transitional deacons; but given my somewhat unusual circumstances, it seemed like a good idea for me to update my Bishop on what's going on with me. When I wrote that post, my status was still up in the air. Now, praise God, I have all the opportunities for deaconing that I can handle.

I can definitely work with this person

The chaplain and I were discussing liturgical options for our Wednesday night services. One possibility, though liturgically satisfying, would have been complicated for a congregation to follow in the Prayer Book. "If we do that," she said, "I'll type everything up."

The discussion continued for a while.

"You know," she said later, "I hate to type everything up. I want people to know how to use their Prayer Books."

I think she and I will work together just fine.

Rescue the tarnishing

The reviving Episcopal chaplaincy at my university will offer its first Eucharist on Wednesday, and in the spirit of diakonia I offered to clean and polish the much-neglected chalice and paten. These are of some unidentified metal (silver? pewter? silverplate would be my guess, based on half-hearted research) and have been poorly stored and developing dark spots for a good long time. Two vigorous applications of silver polish have left them still looking pretty dismal.

I suspect we'll be using earthenware.

I've turned into Larry, haven't I?

One of my departments is gearing up to conduct a search for a new tenure-track position.

Unfortunately, this is not the department full of professionally savvy and sane folks; it's the one that is the Academic Island of Misfit Toys. It quickly became apparent that their ideas about how to conduct a faculty search were bizarrely out of touch with the realities of the profession. Since I'm on the search committee, I had the opportunity to shape the writing of the job ad and the plans for the interview process. On every point I got my way, sometimes by persuading my colleagues, sometimes by steamrolling over them -- but in every case my judgment prevailed.

And then I went home and thought: I've turned into Larry, haven't I?

Larry was a colleague of mine at a former institution. He was an obstacle to any change in the curriculum, any revision of policy. Because he could make himself so unpleasant when he didn't get his way, he had been granted informal veto power by my colleagues, who just weren't prepared to put up with a disgruntled Larry making everyone else miserable. When at last he retired, we could finally do all those things we had put off doing for years and years. It was one of the high points of our departmental life.

I've turned into Larry, haven't I?

Now of course from the inside it seems obvious that I am determined to have my way in order to save my colleagues from the ill effects of their misjudgments. But I'm sure that's what Larry thought about himself too. He wasn't thinking, "I'm going to bitch and moan until I get my way, just because I can." He was thinking, "I'm the only person around here with any sense, and I'd better keep these bozos in line" --

which is exactly what I was thinking during that four-hour search committee meeting as I triumphantly guided our deliberations toward Reason and Good Sense.

Please, please, let me not be Larry.

Students say the darndest things

Yesterday I had the most enjoyable day in the classroom I've had in years, in both my undergraduate class and my graduate seminar.

But what fun is that to talk about? So here's another topic: student comments that come from so far out of leftfield that you can't begin to understand what's going on in the students' heads.

We spent a lot of time yesterday examining a thought-experiment that is intended to show that the notion of a self-explaining being is coherent. I argued that the thought-experiment fails, that when you look closely at the story, you can see that it involves a straightforward contradiction.

On my way out of class, I was rehearsing this point for a student who wanted to keep discussing the matter. I said, "But you can see where the thought-experiment fails. It's as if someone were telling a story and at one point 2+2 had to equal 5. You just know that the story is incoherent."

He replied, "That's where a little humility is in order."

Huh?!

On the same trek out of the classroom, and regarding the same topic, another student said, "So what you're saying is that the end doesn't justify the means."

What?!

When did I say anything about ends and means?

Of course, variations of "the end doesn't justify the means" are almost always signs that something has gone wrong in a student's thought. For one thing, what the hell else would justify a means, if not an end?

Scenes from my Sunday as organist

It's before the 8:00 service. They'll sing the first and last stanzas of the first and last hymns. I notice for the first time that both hymns are in d minor. Oh well. I'll hope the congregation hasn't internalized the minor-equals-sad idea.

***

In the Prayers of the People we pray for "those who are to die this week." I start thinking about what, if anything, that prayer implies about the nature of time and the truth values of future contingent propositions, and I chase philosophical rabbits for a bit.

***

Between services the head verger tells me that there's a baptism at the 10:15. Will we sing the prayers or say them? "Let's sing them," I say, "but we should get a deacon to do that."

After a second or two, I remember that I am a deacon. How strange.

***

9:30 choir warm-up. Everyone is in place on time. I warn them all that I can't conduct my way out of a paper bag, and then we dive in.

I've decided to ditch the Hymn-Tune Psalter and use a plainsong setting, so the choir learns the antiphon and (in view of our short rehearsal time) I'll do the verses by myself. It comes together pretty quickly, but I'm nervous about the verses, which feel really high, though they're actually not.

***

10:12. My prelude is short, so I'm only now about to start it. Unfortunately, the verger picks just this moment to get everyone lined up at the door to the nave -- since when is our procession in place early? -- and so when I start the prelude, everyone thinks it's the opening hymn and stands up.

What do I do? I keep playing for a bit. The verger motions to everyone to sit back down, but only some people see him. So he looks at me with a shrug of the shoulders as if to say, hey, we might as well go ahead and start early. So I keep playing until I get back to the dominant, stop the prelude, and fire up "At the Name of Jesus."

***

I realize I have forgotten to warn the Rector that we'll be singing the Trisagion unaccompanied. Oh well. The choir sings it splendidly, and the congregation is right there with us, so that worked out fine.

***

Interesting. The sequence hymn is in f minor. What is it with me and minor keys today? Well, it goes with the Gospel. Odd, though, that I didn't notice this before.

***

The offertory anthem goes exceptionally well. Purely by accident, I've chosen a better tempo than the one we took in rehearsal. The offering is still being received -- we take for ever to take up the offering at Saint Luke's -- so I improvise a bit on the organ. For what I'm pretty sure is the first time in my life, I manage to modulate seamlessly from the key of the anthem (B-flat major) to that of the hymn (D major -- finally a major-key hymn!). Maybe that will make up for some of the unfortunate "free accompaniment" I did on the opening hymn.

***

For the first time ever at Saint Luke's, there is silence after the Fraction. Fortunately I did remember to warn the Rector that there would be a rubrical fundamentalist at the organ and so he could expect an appreciable silence before the Fraction Anthem began.

***

More unfortunate free accompaniment during the closing hymn. The postlude, though, goes very well. It's only as I'm pulling out of the church parking lot that I wonder: did I step on the dismissal? I honestly don't remember whether we had it or not.