Some things my students don't know

The apostrophe is not used to form plurals.

'Although' is a subordinating conjunction.

Semicolons are not purely decorative.

Simply placing numbers next to each of several unconnected assertions does not turn those assertions into an argument.

There is no need to resort to phonetic spelling in identifying the author of our textbook.

In which the Bishop visits and the Postulant runs around doing a little bit of everything

This morning Saint Luke's combined the Bishop's visitation with an anniversary celebration and its patronal festival (slightly adrift from the usual calendar). It was a marvelous service. We had brass, woodwinds, handbells, and two harps, two anthems commissioned for the occasion, two baptisms, thirteen confirmations . . .

I even got to play the organ for the opening hymn (the Vaughan Williams setting of Old Hundredth that he wrote for the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II, quam salvet Deus) and the Gloria, so that Steve could be free to conduct the choir and masses of instrumentalists. The Gloria was S-280, which of course I've played a zillion times before, but this was the first time I've played it with the composer in the congregation. (And what a gracious and lovely man he is.)

I played sans vestments, since the idea of trying to play in an alb freaked me out, which meant I had to rush to the sacristy to vest according to my order in the short time that elapsed between the Collect of the Day and the Sequence Anthem. Then I sang with the choir until the offertory and did the prayers for the baptismal candidates. And who, incidentally, thought it made sense to pitch those prayers starting on a B-flat? I asked for a G -- much more humane for a standard-issue baritone like me.

At the offertory I moved to the altar. I didn't actually have to do anything deacony just then, but the Rector wanted me up there looking vaguely holy. (Nobody does vague holiness better than I do!) I struggled with the administration of the Sacrament because we were using a new bread of a peculiar consistency that allows one to break off either enormous hunks or tiny, crumbly fragments, but not reasonably sized pieces. (I don't believe we'll be seeing that bread again.) Then it was back to the choir for a schlock-tastic setting of "The Church's One Foundation" and the rest of the liturgy.

It really was a splendid liturgy, musically and otherwise, and I was enormously grateful to be a part of it.

It's out

I just saw my first copy today.

On disapproving of oneself

Our Communion hymn today was "Just a Closer Walk with Thee." Steve asked me to play it on the piano and "Baptist it up." So I did. Snooty Anglo-Catholic that I am, I totally disapproved of everything I was doing. But boy, did people enjoy it!

And so did I, frankly.

I promise to sing ten minutes' worth of the Coverdale Psalter to Anglican chant as my penance.

The mysteries of the CDO, continued

There are three kinds of jobs listed on the CDO site:

(1) Parishes that would be a great fit for me if I had ten years of experience.

(2) Parishes that would be a great fit for me if they were in a different diocese.

(3) Parishes for which I am manifestly unsuited.

Making progress

What a good week this has been! My sermon on Wednesday night went well. I finished and sent off two dictionary articles and an encyclopedia entry. The first draft of my paper on Aquinas -- a pugnacious and opinionated piece that disagrees with pretty much everyone -- was favorably received by one of the two editors, who merely wanted me to extend it a bit. The clog in my work pipeline seems to have dissolved.

But I am well and truly resolved never again to agree to write anything for any volume that has the word "Dictionary," "Encyclopedia," "Handbook," or "Companion" in the title. I still have two of those darn things left to write, plus the pugnacious Aquinas piece to extend.

I try not to let these things get me down

Someone is planning to object to my ordination. Apparently she didn't realize I was partnered until the Bishop introduced M at my ordination to the diaconate, and she was very upset. My Rector is trying to intervene pastorally to keep her from going into a big rant at the appropriate (as it were) moment in the service; we'll see whether that's successful. (She's rather given to ranting, and it's odd that someone with perfect pitch and a decent singing voice has such a horrible speaking voice.) Well, as I've said before, I've led a pretty charmed life in the Church. This rather minor inconvenience has its uses in reminding me of how much more crap a lot of people have to put up with -- a salutary rebuke to my complacency.

I notice also a disconcerting bit of data from a diocesan survey. In response to the statement "I support the ordination of celibate gay and lesbian persons in the Episcopal Church," 51.5% said they either disagreed or strongly disagreed. Celibate.

All will be well.

Can I quit now, while I'm ahead?

Well, I must say, that went exceedingly well.

So well, in fact, that I'd like to put an end to this experiment in textlessness. It can only go downhill from here.

My new Wednesday-night project II

I'm just getting ready to leave for the Wednesday evening Eucharist at Saint Luke's. This time I'm soberly attired. It's my second stab at textless preaching. The Gospel is next Sunday's, the "Render unto Caesar" passage. Here's my outline:

• Standard reading: responsibilities to God and to the state. Nice message so close to Election Day.
• Problem: Situation is too different. Illustrate with quarter. “Give therefore to George Washington those things that are George Washington’s”? Doesn’t work.
• Explain about particular tax. Emperor’s image on coin. This was a two-fer on commandment violations, because it had a graven image and another “god.” But that was the coin you were required to use to pay the tax. Legally, the coin belonged to the emperor anyway. That’s why Jesus says “Give back to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s.” (Yes, that’s not what our translation says, but that’s because the NRSV sucks. It’s what the Greek says.)
• Application: So this isn’t really about paying taxes or about our responsibility to God and to the state. This is about restoring things to their rightful owners, about giving back what is due. The coin is stamped with the image of the emperor, and it belongs to the emperor, so give it back to the emperor. Now what do we have that is stamped with the image of God, that belongs to God?

I'll report back on how it went. And no, I'm not totally committed to trashing the NRSV during the sermon, but one likes to have these things in reserve.

In which an enthusiastic teacher finally loses it

Devoted readers of the long-running saga, "The Postulant Teaches Philosophy of Religion," will recall that on the first examination, 21 of 41 students received a D or an F. Today, it quickly became apparent that no one -- not one single person -- had done the reading.

All five pages of it.

So fifteen minutes into the class, I told them that after their abysmal performance on the tests, their failure to do the reading simply reinforced the idea that they weren't taking this seriously. "So here's what I'm going to do: I'm going to send you home now, and you're going to come to class on Thursday prepared." And I dismissed them.

Maybe some day soon I'll tell the story of how I've gone from teaching-award winner to angry burnout in two short years.

Jonah's song

In honor of the Daily Office's move into the book of Jonah, I offer this link to part of "Jonah's Song," by Peter Schickele (the serious face of PDQ Bach). I couldn't find a complete rendition anywhere on the Web, not that I looked all that hard. We used to sing it in Glee Club, and I've always loved it.

One almost down, five to go

If you were to look at my calendar for the rest of the year, you might be excused for thinking that my primary occupation is collecting frequent-flier miles. I'm just finishing up a trip back to my diocese (and let me just say, in passing, that it's nice to be back in a place that has seasons and stuff). Between now and the end of the year I have five more trips, for a variety of purposes:

• going to the American Academy of Religion meeting to interview job candidates, with a side junket for a Solemn High Mass at Saint Swithin's;
• going to visit my family, with a side junket to serve as deacon at a certain fellow-deacon/fellow-blogger's wedding (actual priority here being the wedding, actually, no offense to Mom and Dad);
• giving a lecture at another university;
• returning to Saint Swithin's for my ordination; and, finally,
• visiting my family for Christmas.

I'm quite looking forward to all these trips, but come January I think I'll be staying put for as long as I can manage.

Getting sassy with Jesus

Proper 23, Year Two
Evensong, 12 October 2008
Saint Swithin's, My Diocese

Matthew 15:21-28

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

There are times I really wish we had video.

What is Jesus’ tone when he tells the Canaanite woman that it is not right to take the food from the children’s table and give it to the dogs? Is he irritated? distracted? playful? If we had video would we see a twinkle in his eye, or maybe instead a slight hint of exasperation as he turns aside from his discussion with the disciples to deal with this persistent, pestering woman who insists on being heard?

We don’t know, can’t know, how he looked or how he sounded. All we have is the text. That, and some rules about how to interpret it. Article XX tells us that the Church may not “so expound one place of Scripture, that it be repugnant to another.” That’s surely a good principle, and it rules out any interpretation that says Jesus was acting out of racism or ethnocentrism. For racism and ethnocentrism are sins, and Jesus, Scripture tells us, “was in every way tempted as we are, yet without sin.” So says the letter to the Hebrews, and so say also the Chalcedonian definition, and Article XV, and a host of other documents. So I think I’m on solid ground in resisting the interpretation that says Jesus is here shaken out of his ethnocentrism by his confrontation with the Canaanite women – though in fairness I must acknowledge that that interpretation has found a lot of distinguished adherents over the last few years

There’s another, less highfalutin’ reason for rejecting that interpretation. One of the big themes of Matthew’s Gospel is justifying the mission to the Gentiles. In the whole Gospel according to Matthew there are only two people whom Jesus praises for their extraordinary faith: the centurion whose servant Jesus healed, and the Canaanite woman from tonight’s reading. Think about it. A whole Gospel – the most Jewish Gospel, as most commentators agree – and the only two people whom Jesus praises for their great faith are Gentiles. It is clearly a part of Matthew’s aim to defend the Church’s outreach to Gentiles. So again, it doesn’t seem that Matthew himself means us to read Jesus here as hostile to the Canaanite woman. That would be so to expound one place in Matthew that it be repugnant to the rest.

But ruling out this one interpretation – assuming I really have shown that it has to be ruled out – only makes things worse. Because if it wasn’t hostility that Jesus was showing, if it wasn’t distrust or distaste for the ethnic Other, then what exactly was it? How are we to understand this story?

If only it had been captured on You Tube . . .

But it wasn’t. So we’re still left asking: Is he irritated? (Jesus was without sin, but he wasn’t without emotion.) Is he distracted? playful? Was there a twinkle in his eye, or maybe instead a slight hint of exasperation as he turns aside from his discussion with the disciples to deal with this persistent, pestering woman who insists on being heard?

We don’t know, can’t know – but isn’t it also true that it doesn’t matter? In the end, Jesus says to her, “Woman, great is your faith,” commending her as being, in the one thing that matters, the superior of all those among whom Jesus more conventionally belongs. And by highlighting this story, Matthew too commends her to us as an example. “Be like this,” he is obviously saying. “Here is what faith looks like – great faith. Be like this woman, who had the nerve to pester, to get a little sassy with Jesus.” For many of us, too, this woman his given us some of the dearest words of the entire liturgy: “We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy table.” And every time we say them we should be reminded that we go to that Table in the footsteps of a woman of great faith, a woman who had the nerve to get a little sassy with Jesus – and that we go not as the dogs who scarf down a scrap or two, but as beloved children, granted our place at the Table where our Host gives us his very self as food.

All of which means – and I get nervous broaching this subject, but Scripture says what it says, and won’t always say the nice tame things I’d like it to say – all of this means that sometimes, when we are discerning the will of God, or making our prayers known to him, or finding our way into a deeper knowledge and love of God and of the people of God, we have to get sassy with Jesus. Sometimes we have to pester. Sometimes we have to talk back.

For it will sometimes seem that our Lord is irritated, or distracted, that the Spirit is busy moving elsewhere, in other lives and in other ways – and at those times we may have to follow the example of this woman of great faith, and plead noisily and almost a little rudely for those scraps.

If we don’t sometimes run up against these obstacles in our spiritual lives, we’re not trying very hard. I grow more and more convinced that having a perpetually joyful, perpetually smooth spiritual life is probably a sign of not actually having a spiritual life at all.

It is when these obstacles arise, when the Lord seems to have his attention elsewhere, when we can’t seem to get ourselves heard over the babble of the in-crowd disciples, that we find out whether our faithful-sounding words are just a pious pose, or whether they’re rooted in something deep and abiding, something that will fight to emerge, clawing at the promise of new life that tries to escape from our grasp. How, unless God sometimes withdraws from us, are we to know whether we are really seeking him?

Think of those bitter words from the Cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” How could Our Lord’s utter and complete devotion to the Father’s will ever have shone more brightly than it did in that dark moment?

The moments in which our faith is put to the test need not be as dramatic as all that. They probably won’t be. But these irritants, or puzzlements, or dry spells will come, and then we will know, because Jesus himself will tell us, that our faith is great – this faith that is itself his own gift, and no work of ours.

And we as a Church somehow have to make clear that our invitation to the world – what this body alone can offer that no other can – is not feel-goodism, or a liturgical frame for our social or political action, but nothing less than a chance to have these painful but unutterably joyful conversations, to get sassy with Jesus.

Matthew, I have said, is commending the Canaanite woman to us as an example. “Here is what faith looks like – great faith. Be like this woman, who had the nerve to pester, to get a little sassy with Jesus.” But he is doing something more. Matthew is not just interested in the mission to the Gentiles. He’s interested in the Church. And we as the Church are to see ourselves in this story not only in the role of this woman of great faith, but in the role of Jesus himself. If we are to be like Jesus, then who, for us, is the Canaanite woman whose faith is so great? Who are the outside voices, grateful for the scraps, but pushing faithfully for the food that comes from the table? If they’re not the children, then shouldn’t we invite them to become children by baptism? And if they are the children, why are we treating them like dogs?

We must pray that we will have the grace to discern great faith even when it presents itself in unexpected ways and unexpected voices. And we must ask, we must clamor, we must pester for the grace to claw at the promise of new life that is ours in Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God in Trinity of persons and Unity of substance, be ascribed, as is most justly due, all might, dominion, majesty, and glory, world without end. Amen.

Passing thoughts

How many times have I watched This is Spinal Tap, and I only just got the joke about the concert on the Isle of Lucy?

The one Wednesday night I figure, hey, I'm off duty, I can dress casually, I get drafted to serve as deacon and end up functioning in brown shoes and jeans, to my horror.

A note to students who bombed the first exam: I don't want you to apologize to me about your bad grades and express your sincere repentance and promise amendment of life. I want you to drop the class.

Still more seminary hiring

Once you start this sort of thing, you can't really stop. To my mind it would be pretty scary to sign on as an administrator of a seminary at "a particularly dynamic time," but then as a professing Hobartian I am suspicious of dynamism, which can lead to enthusiasm, which can lead to tackiness.

And scroll further down for a Sewanee ad.

Episcopal Divinity School

President

The Board of Trustees and Search Committee of Episcopal Divinity School (EDS) seek nominations and applications for the presidency. Review of applications will begin immediately and will continue until an appointment is made. The new president will assume office in summer 2009.

This is a particularly dynamic time in the history of EDS, as the school pursues innovative and collaborative efforts to re-envision theological education for the 21st century. The new president will be welcomed into a creative community dedicated to an inclusive anti-oppression mission and open to new ideas. EDS intends to expand its progressive message worldwide, providing leadership training for transformative lay and ordained ministries to serve an increasingly diverse global society. A newly established partnership with Lesley University ensures the autonomy and integrity of EDS as an independent seminary, and enables EDS to enhance its mission for years to come. The use of distance learning technology, expanded January and June on-campus terms for students unable to relocate to Cambridge, and collaborative educational program opportunities with Lesley and other institutions allow EDS to remain a respected center of study and spiritual formation for lay and ordained leaders with a strong commitment to justice, compassion, and reconciliation.

Formed in 1974 through the merger of Philadelphia Divinity School (founded in 1857) and Episcopal Theological School (founded in 1867), EDS offers Doctor of Ministry, Master of Divinity, and Master of Arts degrees, as well as certificates in theological studies. Located on an eight acre campus just a few blocks from Harvard Yard, EDS is a member of the Boston Theological Institute, a consortium of eight eminent theological schools, seminaries, and departments of religion.

The EDS president will oversee the School’s academic and religious life and will be a member of the Episcopal Church, a church of the Anglican Communion, or a church in full communion with the Episcopal Church. The successful candidate will possess appropriate academic credentials (PhD preferred) and the demonstrated abilities to: provide visionary leadership for EDS, build a strong community among EDS constituents, manage through effective planning and administrative accountability, articulate the EDS mission effectively, inspire others both within and outside the EDS community to support the work of the seminary, ensure financial equilibrium, and facilitate the collaborative relationship with Lesley University and with other institutions in the Boston area.

Applications will be treated in confidence and should consist of a cover letter and resume or curriculum vitae. Materials should be addressed to Mr. Douglas Beaven, chair of the Presidential Search Committee and sent electronically (MS Word preferred) to EDS@academic-search.com

Episcopal Divinity School is being assisted by:

Dr. Patricia (Tobie) van der Vorm, Senior Consultant
Academic Search, Inc.
ptv@academic-search.com  202/263-7473

Please visit the websites at www.eds.edu or www.academic-search.com for more information.

Candidates from underrepresented groups are encouraged to apply. EDS is an equal opportunity employer.

School of Theology, Sewanee: The University of the South

Christian Ethics

The School of Theology of the University of the South in Sewanee, Tennessee, an accredited seminary of the Episcopal Church, invites applications for a full-time, tenure-track, junior faculty position in Christian Ethics, to begin in July 2009. A specialization in Christian social ethics, including environmental ethics, is desired.

Responsibilities will include teaching required and elective courses in Christian ethics for the M.Div. and M.A. degrees, with participation in other degree and lifetime education programs, as well as scholarly publication. The position also brings with it a range of engagement in the worship, work, and witness of the seminary community. Courses in ethics at Sewanee seek to give an account of Christian faith and the ethos and mission of the church in thoughtful interaction with Scripture and tradition on one hand and, on the other hand, with the cultural situations and ethical challenges of the modern world. The successful candidate will demonstrate commitment to preparation of students for parish ministry.

Qualifications for the position include demonstrated professional competence in teaching ethics and active commitment to the mission of the church. A knowledge of and appreciation for the Anglican tradition is expected. The strongest candidates will have a Ph.D. or Th.D. (or equivalent) in hand by the time of appointment, although advanced ABD candidates nearing completion of the dissertation may be considered. Salary and rank will depend on experience and qualifications. Episcopal clergy, women, and minorities are particularly encouraged to apply.

The University of the South, an institution of the Episcopal Church, comprises a selective liberal arts college in addition to the School of Theology. The University is situated on a 13,000-acre expanse of forested campus.

The University provides equal employment opportunity to all employees and applicants for employment. No person shall be discriminated against in employment because of race, color, sex, age, national origin, sexual orientation, disability, veteran’s status, or religion (except for those positions in the School of Theology and the chaplain’s office where religious affiliation is a necessary qualification). Eligibility for employment at the University is contingent upon satisfactory completion of a background investigation.

A letter of application, a full curriculum vitae, a writing sample, and three letters of reference should be sent directly to: The Rev. Dr. James F. Turrell, Associate Dean for Academic Affairs, School of Theology, University of the South, 335 Tennessee Avenue, Sewanee, TN 37383-0001. The position will remain open until it is filled, but applications received by October 24 will be assured of full consideration.

There's no discouragement shall make him once relent

41 students took my philosophy of religion exam. The median score was 61.5 out of 100. 21 students got Ds or Fs -- and it would have been worse if I hadn't curved.

The frustrating thing is that this course is a mere shell of what it used to be. The first time I taught philosophy of religion at my current university, I came to realize very quickly that the version I had offered so successfully in my old job was way beyond my students' abilities. So I retooled. I jettisoned the most difficult reading, started much further back in my explanations, and slowed the pace of the course considerably. This semester makes the fourth time I've taught the course here, and each time I've made it easier than the time before. At this point it's hardly even philosophy of religion any more; it's a low-calorie philosophy-of-religion substitute. And it's still killing them.

But tomorrow I'll be back in there, teaching with my accustomed enthusiasm, and looking for ever more inventive ways to bring them along with me.

I look for enrollment to drop sharply after I return their exams, though.

On doing everything in one liturgy

Saint Luke's was doing a big Blessing of the Animals this morning, and since I am not a big fan of all that (or of the music that is thought appropriate for that Sunday, as though we had to sing simpler music in deference to the large percentage of cats who don't read music), I was glad that I was off duty and thus free to attend another parish. I decided to revisit the parish where I had observed Michaelmas.

It is, apparently, Episcopal Schools Sunday, and since this parish has a school, that's what we observed. In practical terms, that meant that the Old Testament and Epistle were read by kids (quite well, as it happens) and the headmaster of the school gave an "address," which combined soaring aspirational rhetoric with statistics about the school's performance on various national tests.

So far, so good, though I don't know that I particularly need to hear the word "percentile" that many times during the sermon slot. But they tried to cram too much into a single liturgy. There were also two baptisms -- presumably unrelated to the school observance, since one of the baptized was an infant and the other an adult -- as well as a stewardship address for the opening of pledge season. That's an awful lot going on at one Eucharist.

No wonder the rector got confused and launched into "It is meet and right" after the Sursum Corda and then had to stop himself, riffle through the Altar Book (this took a while), and resume with "It is right, and a good and joyful thing."

Not that I would have minded if he had just kept going, of course . . .

This service, the middle of their three morning Eucharists, was apparently the more family-oriented one. There were lots of kids. (Or maybe that had something to do with the school observance.) The Episcopalians in that part of town apparently go in for large families and run rather to redheads, I noticed. I wondered why the two teenage acolytes' surplices were dragging the floor, since they were among the tallest men there. I also wondered why they were in cottas, which are hideous and ungodly and an affront to all right-thinking people.