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xapitos · 3 years ago

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Who is Jesus of Nazareth? A study of the Gospel of Mark to answer this question.

Who is Jesus of Nazareth?

A Devotional Study of the Gospel of Mark

by xapitos

Introduction

This is a biblical study of the Gospel of Mark from the New Testament. This study is based on the Gospel of Mark (and in turn the entire Hebrew and Christian Scriptures) as being the inerrant (without error) words of God given to Mark and to each author of each book of the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures, known to many as the “Holy Bible.” God is interpreted as the God presented in those Scriptures, namely, the personal Creator of all things (except evil, a creation of man by his free choice), Sustainer of life and Giver of eternal forgiveness for one’s rebellious/sinful nature against God through the sacrificial offering of his Son, Jesus Christ, taking God’s wrath for such sinfulness upon himself on the cross out of love for all of mankind.

A little bit about me. I have been a Christian for more than 60 years, knowing at a very young age, that the Lord was my heavenly Father and that I would become a pastor. After a career of earning a Bachelor’s degree in Koine and Classical Greek, a Master’s of Theology degree in Old Testament Studies (a four year degree), being a missionary in South America, pastoring in three churches and being a hospice chaplain, I have never once found the Holy Bible to be in error. I have had to seek insight into some of its parts. Those parts, have no easy answers. That does not mean that there is no answer, nor does it mean that the hard to understand parts are errors. It means that I, the reader, do not understand what is put forth plainly in those parts. The understanding issue is not in the presentation but in the interpreter. I have also found that the great majority of the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures are straight forward, clear to understand and deeply challenging to the soul. I believe it is this challenging part that we as humankind use to deflect, hide from the truth that we find in the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures. For instance, the command to love your neighbor as yourself is broad and not always easy to apply. Some people are mean and obnoxious. Yet, they are my neighbor and my responsibility is to love them regardless of themselves.

Meditating upon the Holy Bible, whether we claim Jesus as our Lord and Savior or not, and asking the Lord for insight and guidance usually results in the same. My personal growth in God’s truth is often the issue that prevents me, for a time, to understand and/or apply his truth. Furthermore, truth is both refreshing and confrontational. When I am to love my neighbor as myself, even though my neighbor may be an unloving, mean person, I am “confronted with God’s truth.” I can love, despite my neighbor’s actions, or be self-focused. The choice is mine, not God’s. Confrontation is not a bad thing but a good thing. Confrontation should be gentle. As someone once wrote, we all need to learn the art of giving a shot without the recipient feeling the needle.

It is my prayer that all of us who read/meditate upon this study will be honest with ourselves about what the Gospel of Mark says and that we sincerely search our souls regarding its claim that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, the Redeemer of all peoples from their sinful state to enjoy the wonderful and enriching relationship with the Triune God forever.

A Word About the Methodology of This Study

For simplicity sake, this study follows the paragraph breakdowns of The Greek New Testament, edited by Kurt Aland, Matthew Black, Carlo M. Martini, Bruce M. Metzger and Allen Wikgren, Institute for New Testament Textual Research, Munster/Westphalia, Third Edition, United Bible Societies, copyright 1966, 1968, 1975. The Hebrew Scriptures referred to are from Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia, Deutsche Bibelstiftung Stuttgart, copyright 1967/1977. The English translation used, when not translating from the Hebrew Scriptures and Greek New Testament, is the New International Version of the Bible.

Secondly, since this study looks at the Gospel of Mark as written and Hebrew Scriptures as referred to within the Gospel of Mark as taken at face value for what they claim, these documents are seen as the final authority in all matters to which they speak. When studying any book, the normal interpretative approach is to study a book at face value for what it claims to be. Thus, this study looks at the historical, cultural and grammatical contexts in which the Gospel of Mark was written. Mark claims in 1:1-2, that his book is the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, based upon prophecy from the Hebrew Scriptures. Thus, this study assumes the same. If contradictions and errors are found to exist, then the Gospel of Mark will be assumed to be false. Otherwise, it is only honest integrity and personal character to recognize and accept wholeheartedly what the Gospel of Mark presents.

Premise

The question at hand is, “Who is Jesus of Nazareth?” Mark, a disciple of the apostle Peter (whom Jesus left in charge before he ascended into heaven), wrote his book with this question in mind. All of us have premises. The question is, which one is the truth to be the foundation and cornerstone of our lives and the gift of life itself? This question makes the question “Who is Jesus of Nazareth” all the more imperative.

Study

Chapter 1:1-8

1:1 The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ (Messiah) son of God

Mark states the premise of his book in its opening words. With the use of the name “Christ” (the Greek word for the Hebrew word “Messiah”) Mark immediately draws attention to Jesus of Nazareth being the Promised One of the Nation of Israel. He wants all to know, especially Jewish people, that the Messiah they have been looking for has already come. Mark also claims that this Messiah is the Son of God. A debatable matter amongst Jewish and Gentile people. Yet, the claim is so bold, that it is worthy of investigation.

1:2-3 Just as it has been written in Isaiah the prophet, Behold I will send my messenger before you who will prepare your way, a voice of one calling out in the wilderness, ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight paths for him.’

Immediately, Mark lays claim to the Hebrew Scriptures as the supreme authority to backup his statement in verse 1. Isaiah was written approximately between 740-701 B.C., long before the arrival of the Mark’s good news/gospel that Jesus Christ is God’s Son, the Promised One to the Jewish people and to the world. Isaiah chapters 1-39 are about Israel’s rebellious, sinful ways (Isaiah 1-5), and then about the LORD’s coming judgment upon the Jewish people because of their chosen rebellion. Isaiah 39 reviews the coming judgment through the hand of the Babylonians, who will even ransack and burn the Lord’s temple and take his people into captivity. We know that Daniel 9 reviews the 70 year captivity. The context of Isaiah 40-66 is to comfort the LORD’s people (the Hebrews), that the times of judgment will not last, and that there will be the time to prepare the way of the LORD and make straight paths for him for his Messiah will redeem and restore his people and any who claim his name as Lord. It is with this comforting news that Mark begins the good news of Jesus Christ/Messiah God’s Son.

In both Isaiah and Mark, the forerunner of the Messiah is key. A forerunner prepares, go before. Thus, the very nature of a forerunner makes the message about what follows even more imperative and worthy of listening to with a change in action for the listeners.

1:4 Now there was John the Baptizer in the dessert and he was preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.

John the Baptizer performed his mission not in the cities and villages but in the dessert. Why? For none, there are less distractions in the dessert. Someone proclaiming a message and baptizing people would stand out more than in a city, where he could easily be ignored. Also, he was baptizing people in the Jordan river, where many go for water, bathing and washing of clothes, as well as to be refreshed from the arid, hot climate of Israel. Thus, word would easily spread about John and his message.

The historical context of Mark at this point is that the Hebrew people have been under the thumb of the Roman Empire for many years. They were heavily taxed, oppressed and helpless against a ruthless government that worshiped Caesar. Thus, the Romans were detestable to most Hebrews, who worshiped the LORD God of Israel through sacrifices at the Second Temple in Jerusalem.

What kind of message is John the Baptizer preaching? It isn’t one of sacrifices per the Law of Moses. It’s a new message, a different message of repentance for forgiveness of sins. A message that would smooth out the valleys and bring low the mountains of life. The roughness of life shall become level, its rugged smooth. Thus, his message stood out all the more. This would cause the message to spread quickly.

Self-Reflection

Where/what is our dessert? Where/what is the refreshment of our souls? To whom are we listening? One proclaiming the way of the Lord to make straight paths for him? Or, are we listening to the many voices, the confusion and the hustle and bustle of a hectic life, filled with many voices? How is our present state of life refreshing our souls and bringing us closer to who the Gospel of Mark claims Jesus of Nazareth to be? Name three ways in which you can change your life to listen better to John the Baptizer’s message, as well as the message of the Gospel of Mark thus far?

1:5 and all the Judean region and all those living in Jerusalem were going out to him and were being baptized by him in the Jordan River, confessing their sins.

The going out to John was an intentional one. One of purpose. Under the heavy hand of Rome (like the Hebrews of Isaiah’s and Daniel’s day being judged by God through the Assyrians and the Babylonians) there is now the time of preparing for the way of the LORD and making straight paths, leveling out life��s hardships and difficulties. This message is not carried out by throwing off the hardships and difficulties but by turning to the One who forgives sin and then makes our way smoother in the midst of the hardships and difficulties. Although the people of that time were used to traveling in the dry, arid climate of the Judean wilderness, it was still an arduous journey. The trip from Jerusalem to the Jordan River crosses a dessert area littered literally with millions upon millions of rocks of various sizes, deep crevices, low mountains, valleys, dust, heat (depending on the time of year), little to no water. The people of the region and of Jerusalem are so thirsty for a making straight of their oppressed and rugged lives, that they welcomingly travel the arid countryside by foot, donkey and/or camel to listen to this new message from a loner man, who lives in the dessert.

1:6 and John wore clothes made of camels hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and ate locusts and wild honey.

To the Hebrew, this is a clear reference to the highly-esteemed prophet, Elijah. Mark is saying that one like Elijah, the mighty prophet and miracle worker of the Hebrews, is now here and his message is even greater, as the new Elijah, John the Baptizer. That Elijah is so pertinent to the Jewish culture of this time, Elijah himself is one of two people who appear and talks with Jesus on the Mount of Tranfiguration (Mark 9:2-13). Jewish people understand that Elijah must come before the Messiah arrives. Mark claims that John is that man.

Self-Reflection

Would we truly travel across a dessert area on foot or animal, let alone a vehicle of today, to listen to the message of a loner, who lives in the dessert? His hair has to be dirty and matted. His beard, eyebrows, ear hair long, possibly filled with dirt and grime. He stinks. His teeth are dirty and possibly rotting. Not only all of this, he dresses like a crazy man, wearing camel haired clothes (brown and tan against his sun darkened skin). He eats giant grass hoppers and unprocessed honey. What kind of truth does he have to offer? Would we be willing to accept him as greater than one of the greatest of God’s prophets ever? What would we do personally to change our lives in light of his message?

1:7-8 and he preached saying, There is one more powerful than I, after me, of whom I am not worthy to loosen the straps of the sandals of his feet. I baptize you with water, but he himself will baptize you with the holy spirit.

Baptism is a common concept to Jewish people. The Greek word “to baptize” is equal to the Hebrew ritual word used for the “ritual cleansing bath” a worshiper would take to spiritual cleanse oneself before offering sacrifices to the LORD at the Temple in Jerusalem. At the southern end of the Temple Mount in Jerusalem there is an archaeological find of what are known to be “mikvahs”. Mikvahs are the ritual cleansing areas one would use before entering the Temple Mount to offer sacrifices to the LORD at the Temple. Mikvahs have steps that descend some 4-5 feet into a small area that was filled with water to immerse one’s self for the cleansing ritual. The Mikvah area at the southern end of the Temple Mount is most likely where over 3000 people were baptized by Peter and other apostles with him when he preached on the Day of Pentecost, post-resurrection of Jesus (Acts of the Apostles 3).

The message here is clear, spiritually cleanse ourselves before the LORD by being baptized to receive forgiveness of our sins. In other words, instead of taking the symbolical ritual mkvah bath to present yourselves to the LORD at the Temple with your sacrifice(s) for him, be ritually/spiritually cleansed by offering yourself as the sacrifice to the LORD for the forgiveness of your sins. Clearly, a new message, the good news, the gospel of Jesus Christ/Messiah Son of God has come to his people and to the world.

This new message brings a new gift, the holy spirit. In the Hebrew Scriptures of Psalm 51, King David (the one to whom the LORD promised an eternal kingdom) cries out in deep grief stricken repentance that the LORD will not remove his spirit from him. David was the man after God’s own heart, as the Hebrew Scriptures describe him. Yet, David committed adultery with another man’s wife (one of his soldiers), deceived others about this by calling her husband back from the war front to sleep with his wife, plotted to have him killed in battle (murder), and then lied about it for a year. The LORD sent his prophet Nathan to confront David for all of this. This is the context of Psalm 51. It is no wonder that David cries out begging the LORD not to remove his spirit from him. The LORD mercifully forgives David and grants his request. David knew that without the spirit of the LORD, he could not become the man and king that the LORD wanted him to be. John proclaims that The One who is greater than I, he himself will baptize you with the holy spirit. The religious leaders of Israel did not teach this teaching. They emphasized a distorted message of the LORD, because of which people from all over the Judean wilderness and Jerusalem itself, flocked to a loner, hairy, stinky, weird dressed, grasshopper eating man, who proclaimed a new message from the LORD, be baptized for the forgiveness of your sins, for the Promised Messiah is coming soon.

Self-Reflection

How committed are we to obeying the call of the LORD upon our lives to live in a deepening relationship with him? What are we willing to give up in the comfort and convenience of our lives to be a lone soul in the dessert of life crying to any who will listen…There is a better way, a smoother way. There is a life worth living, that is not filled with the clutter of many voices and guilt ridden teachings and philosophies of self-dependence. There is a better life, because the only One who is worthy has come and invites us to live in the wonder and joy of his forgiveness and guidance to the deeper life with the Father. What will we do to live in, to embrace that life?

List three ways in which the Lord is speaking to you about such change:

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neighbourskid · 5 years ago

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What’s Your Story?

(original date: 30 July 2016)

At ComicCon, two weeks ago, I got this free shirt that says "What's your story?". And now that I've been wearing it, every time I've looked in a mirror or just seen a reflection of myself, I have been wondering, what exactly is my story? Why am I the way I am? What made me like this? Where do I come from, and where do I go to? And I have thought a lot about this, to be honest. But I guess, I just gotta start at the beginning, right?

I am pretty bad with childhood memories. I barely know anything. Everything that I do know, I feel like only knowing because people told me or because I've seen pictures of it. Which honestly bums me out. I am also constantly not sure if things I feel like I actually do remember, aren't just things that I made up at some point. But anyways.

I grew up in a small-ish town in Switzerland. We've lived in other small-ish towns and villages before, but I was definitely too young to remember any of that. There are memories of me feeding my older half-brother, but I am quite sure that I only know this because there's a picture of it. Right now, I'd say my earliest memory is my half-brother (who's autistic by the way) helping my brother and me out of beds we couldn't get out on our own. I know that I know this. I was probably around three or four at the time. Anyways.

My parents got divorced when I was four. Although I have lived with my mom until I moved out this July, I never really connected with her as much as other girls do. Those good mother-daughter relationships you see in movies sometimes? We didn't have that. I was always very focused on the men in my family. My dad was my hero, even though I only saw him every second weekend and on special occasions like birthdays and Christmas. But he was my hero. Still is.

My brother was my role model from early childhood on. My mom always says, that I was always okay with everything that he chose to do or have. My brother wanted these pants? Me too. My brother wanted chocolate milk? Me too. Those were my most said words. "Me too."

My mom feared that I would be too dependent on his decisions and never be truly me, because I was okay with doing whatever he did. But I don't think that this is what happened. I just loved my brother. My dad wasn't always there because of the divorce, so my next go-to person was my brother, because I didn't see my mom as a role model or go-to person. We didn't connect like that.

My brother and me, we're 18 months apart. That's a wonderful age gap. It's not too close, but it's also not too far away to get along splendidly.

Of course, one of the reasons why I was always okay with doing/having what my brother did, was because I thought we were the same. As a child, I didn't really get the concept of gender or that there is a real difference between boys and girls. I just knew that some people had other parts than others, but I was like, yeah and? What does it matter?

I just knew that I always liked hanging out with boys more than I did with girls. I had this friend in kindergarten who I always stole Legos with. Then in first grade, I was seated next to a girl with the same last name as me, and we got along and I got to play at her house a lot, but in second grade I was back to being with boys. And I was friends with the same boy until probably fourth grade, then expanded my friend group - to even more boys. And they accepted me. I got to hang out with them, got to play video games with them, played with pokemon cards, played football. It wasn't until probably sixth grade that I actually got girl friends. And even then, my main friend group were still the boys. And I was kinda the "cool girl" because I got to hang out with them.

It was nothing I was striving for, but it happened nonetheless.

I remember that one of my best friends had a crush on me, and I didn't get it. I was oblivious to that. Until I cut my hair in sixth grade, and thus looked more boyish than ever before, and he lost his interest. In retrospect, I should've seen it. But it doesn't really matter anyway.

Then seventh grade came around - new teachers, new class - and I only had four of my old classmates left: two girls who I didn't spend that much time with, the guy who had had a crush on me and another guy who I had often played video games with, but more due to other people than actually him. So in short, four people I wasn't really that good friends with. So I had to find new ones.

As many of you might now, I am an insanely introverted person. Well, at least to new people. People who have known me for a long time often can't believe that I am actually very shy and introverted. But that is that.

I made friends rather quickly, though. Well, at least I think so. I got along well with pretty much everyone, but I mostly spent my time with one or two of the girls. But in the end, I didn't really bond with them that much, because I haven't talked to anyone of them in years. It didn't matter anyway, because I had to repeat 8th grade, and had new classmates anyway. And that is where I made friends, who I still see to this day and am still friends with. I'm even living with one of them! Which is great to be honest.

In the two years I was with those people, I changed a lot. I was always the tomboy, the girl dude. The bro that just so happened to be a girl, but nobody cared. But with those people, I think I finally wasn't the bro friend anymore. I was still the stereotype "cool girl" especially because I wasn't girly (I'm still not) and I didn't give two shits what people thought (still don't). But I got more girlier than before. I dressed less manly, could finally get to like tank tops, skinny jeans, and shorts that didn't cover my knees. Even jewelry! Well rings, mostly.

But I was still me; boyish, reckless, climbing-on-trees-and-falling-down self-destroy-ish.

My dad always wanted a son and a daughter. And that is what he got. I am not the typical daughter, the typical girl. But I have a lot in common with my dad, so I think he got the daughter he wanted, or he came around to accept that I would never be the girly girl. He loves me and I know that.

I know my mom loves me. And that she accepts me for who I am. But I think she always had more issues with me being the way I am, than my dad had. With me being so very boyish. We always fought when buying clothes. Oh, the memories. It was a war.

After ninth grade I went to grammar school. I only knew my friend Angie, but soon enough I got along with pretty much everyone in that class. I think I was still the "cool girl" which got me friends easily. I got along with the girls, I got along with the boys. I think I was good friends with everyone, with some exceptions obviously. I had friends in other classes as well. I wasn't typically popular, mind you, but I am friendly. People get along with me. People tell me I'm funny, trustworthy, loyal, a good friend.

I made a habit of getting along with teachers, too. Mostly teachers I didn't have class with, but still. The class teacher of the one's we had PE with, was one of those teachers. After the first half year, I decided that he was going to be my victim, and so after the skiing camp he became exactly that. I mocked him constantly. After a fantastic incident - I shouted across the school yard that I thought his pink shirt was extremely manly - he asked one of his students who was my friend, if I meant harm or if I was always like that. She told him that this was just who I was, and from that moment on he returned my "bullying". We had a great time. I tried to sell him shoes, he was my go-to person for pain killers, he mocked my headaches, he told me with the biggest smile to "shut the fuck up". We had a great time. I always have one or two teachers like that at every school I go to. My English and German teacher was the other victim. He was a great teacher, and I think he appreciated me as a student. I met him yesterday and he was very pleased to hear that I was going to study English. We had bitch fights in the middle of class. While everyone looked at me like I had death wishes, we had the greatest fun mocking each other. It was great.

I am no teachers pet. I just feel like you need at least one teacher you actually like and have a good relationship with, or else you won't make it through school without constant mental breakdowns.

Anyways. I am rabbit trailing (I would like to personally thank Zachary Levi for adding this word to my vocabulary).

As some of you might know, I am a Christian. Not the "it says on my papers that I am a Christian, so I am one" but actually an active Christian. I go to church. I pray. I believe. I wouldn't call myself religious. I am a person of faith. There's a difference.

Anyways. When I was in second grade, my mom got a job where she had to work shifts. So we got someone where we could go eat, and spend our free afternoons at. They are great people and I'm still friends with them. Their two children are basically my little siblings and I consider their daughter one of my best friends.

These people, this couple, were Christians, and they went to church in our town. I don't know exactly when my mom converted, but I know that we started going to that church, and I made friends for life. When I was twelve or thirteen, there was a baptism service coming up and I told my mom that I wanted that, too.

Usually, it is waaaaay to early to get baptised at twelve or thirteen. Mostly, teens are "allowed" to do so when they're sixteen or eighteen or whatever. But I felt like this was the right thing to do, so I did. And they let me.

Over the course of my life as a person of faith, I have always searched for role models. Someone I could look up to in that aspect of my life. I found a few. The dad of the two girls I live with at the moment was one of them. He was the pastor of our church, is a missionary in Central Africa now. Then there were various people from our church who I looked up to because they just have so much faith and trust. And in 2012 someone new made his way into my line of sight and is now not only a role model as a person of faith, but for life in general. In 2012, through the movie Avengers and through Tom Hiddleston, I discovered Zachary Levi. Who is not only a brother in Christ, but an all around good person in general and just the sweetest guy I have ever had the good fortune of meeting.

Through various interviews and NerdHQ panels, Zac has over and over again inspired me in so many ways. He inspires me to be more kind, to be more gentle, to be more passionate. He inspires me to trust God, to bring important decisions before God. He inspires me so much. Every time NerdHQ comes around again, or every time I just watch panels throughout the year, I get giddy and I'm full of energy to live my dreams, go out and change the world, be the best version of myself.

This year I have had the wonderful opportunity to finally attend NerdHQ and meet Zac for the first time. And he did not disappoint. He was everything I wished him to be. Even better. He gave me something so precious that I feel like this will fuel me for a very long time. With a simple sentence he changed my life more than he already has before. And I am eternally grateful for that.

"What's your story?" Well, my story is still in the first chapters. There's a lot more to come. I've been through things that I wish I hadn't. I lost people very dear to me. I'm still trying to find out some things about me. But there's one thing I know. God will help me write my story. He will be there every step of the way. God will put people in my life that help me figure out who I am, what to do, and where to go. He put Zac and NerdHQ in my life for a reason. And there's no way I am letting that go. Ever.

I told my mom yesterday that I plan to never miss NerdHQ ever again, if I can anyhow avoid it. She said, "that's big talk." But I'm not kidding. I will do everything in my power to never miss the awesomeness that is NerdHQ ever again. Those are four days of granted happiness. Why should I ever wanna miss that again? There are likeminded, amazing people who I wouldn't be able to see anywhere else. They don't live in Switzerland. They live all over America.

My story is about a girl who loves stories. And storytellers. I would love to be one, too. I get inspired every other day by stories I read or hear or see, and I would like to give back. Tell stories to inspire future generations, the way people like Zac have inspired me.

My story is about finding purpose in inspiring others. My story is about being passionate, "loving too much", knowing a shit ton of "fun facts" about movies and books and people I've never met in my life. My story is about me. Your average neighbourhood nerd. The kid next door. The introverted kid who doesn't seem introverted at all, once you get to know them.

So, that is me. What's your story?

#blog post #import from old blog #personal #comic con #sdcc #story time

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saintmachina · 6 years ago

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What were some parts of seminary that you liked, versus ones you didn’t? I’m thinking about my future (read: freaking tf out) and I know I want to study theology in some way, I’m just not sure how exactly, ya feel?

Thanks for the question! Your mileage may vary: I went to a Princeton Seminary, which I would categorize as a theologically/politically moderate, academic, traditional Western-style seminary. Seminary culture varies WIDELY from school to school, so keep that in mind when choosing between, say, a Princeton, which may be a more insular academic community focused on research and internships, and a Fuller, which may be a larger community more integrated with the surrounding city concerned with practical training for missionaries, worship leaders, and Christian artists. This is NOT to say that you can’t learn to be an awesome worship leader at PTS (I know them) or an awesome theology professor at Fuller, but make sure you shop around for your particular cultural, career, and academic needs.

Things I Loved

The residential experience. Nearly all students at PTS live in beautiful on-campus housing or in apartments specialized for families with children just a few miles away. Living a few minutes walk from the library, my professors’ offices, and the chapel was amazing, especially since students at PTS tend to be sociable with the others who live on their hall. I would often spend my evenings studying with friends in their dorm rooms, and since everyone on campus at any given time tends to eat their meals in the cafeteria together, I formed a strong clique of ten or so people who unpacked my readings + spiritual crises with me at the lunch table.

Spiritual friendships. I was able to make deeper friends than ever before in my life from a variety of denominational and theological backgrounds. We saw each other through vocational shifts, prayed with each other, administered the Eucharist to each other, celebrated birthdays and ordinations together, and stayed up late into the night when anyone needed us. I would literally drive across the country to bail any of them out of jail at a moment’s notice.

The emotional crucible. Seminary is bootcamp for the soul. You get exposed to so many new ideas and theologies, learn how to preach, sit at people’s bedside while they’re sick, pull together responses for every new act of violence in the news, and most of the time, are thrust into a leadership role at a church that is either going under and begging you to save them or so large and thriving that it nearly swallows you whole. Nothing will grow you up like that. I have an insane amount of poise now dealing with other people’s crises, rage, or grief, and that wasn’t the case when I matriculated. Pastors are all making it up as we go along, but seminary gives at least the appearance of sage wisdom under pressure.

Academic engagement with theology. This one seems obvious, but after spending four years in a secular liberal arts university that was tolerant of my enduring interest in religion but didn’t offer me an outlet for it, seminary was balm in Gilead. I loved being able to dig into what I really cared about directly, be that metaphysics, church history, or the Bible as literature, and I thrived being surrounded by other people who cared about it and did the reading and wanted to explore together.

Freedom to research what I wanted. There are plenty of demanding intro-level courses that throw you to the ground and kick you while you cry into your notecards (New Testament, what’s good) but it was fun being on that ride with the rest of your small cohort, and upper-level classes offered chances to research what you cared about. I got to present research on astrology in the book of Daniel, queer American Muslim communities, IVF treatments and theology in Ghana, overlap in myths about Odin and Jesus, and I did an independent research study linking the emergent church to the spike in Millennials re-discovering the Episcopal and Catholic churches.The library was stuffed to the brim with books I would kill for. What a treat.

The melting pot. PTS DEFINITELY has its ideological and admissions biases but they do work hard to create a diverse student body, and I was close with students from so many different counties, denominations, ethnicities, and political leanings, which was enriching beyond belief. It was one of the big reasons I chose a seminary degree. That said, not all schools skew diverse, and I was very specific about choosing a seminary that was explicitly affirming of women in ministry and the goodness and wholeness of LGBTQ+ folks, so I knew that I would be supported by general school policies. Getting that information up front is important.

Access to university resources. This one is PTS specific, but I went to a independent seminary closely linked to and basically on the same campus as Princeton University (they were the same school back in the 1800s until an amicable split, but we’re still cozy). This meant that I had access to Princeton U libraries, free events, lectures, and religious life, and I was a member of the Episcopal Church at Princeton U for most of my time at seminary. People bribe admissions officials or work themselves to nervous breakdown to get access to the resources I had at my fingertips, and I don’t take that for granted.

The aesthetic. If I’m gong to take tens of thousands dollars of loans out for graduate school you bet you’re ass I’m going to be sitting in American Hogwarts while I do it.

Things I Did Not

The cliquishness. This one is a double-edged sword, because I thrived on having a clique of high-functioning. highly-educated pastors who ate at the same lunch table and gossiped about the same people and showed up to campus parties in a gang, but that’s not always healthy. People tended to fragment off by denomination or where they fall on the liberal-conservative scale, and differences can fester that way. Students of color were often implicitly excluded from certain spaces through this behavior. Humans skew towards tribalism to begin with, but when you put super socially-oriented people with strong beliefs in one space where they have to live on top of each other and are looking for low-effort socializing after a long day in the trauma ward, confessional, or picket line, it gets worse.

Imposter syndrome. Maybe it’s grad school in general that does this, but I spent most of my degree fighting off the feeling that I was dumb, lazy, not serious enough about my “calling” or my research, and probably a heretic. Part of my character growth came from learning not to give a fuck about what people who didn’t share my passions thought of them, and from realizing that I wasn’t on the ordination or PhD track like most of my peers, and that was okay. So I grew from this, but it stung like hell. I cried a lot.

No handholding. The professors at PTS were, by and large, old school, and they were busy as hell. While there was opportunities for office hours, most engagement with professors came in the performative form of “a question, well, more of a comment really” during lectures. Students, (mostly men, I’m not going to lie to you) scrambling for a good letter of rec for a PhD tended to monopolize whatever time professors had. I can think of exceptions (Ellen Charry was exceptional and made time for me in her home when I was struggling to unpack antisemitic theology) but it was a far cry from the literature department in my undergrad, where professors were accessible and knew me personally as mentors and friends.

Caregiver burnout. This is my big one, and is the reason I’m still in recoup mode doing the office job thing instead of working in formal ministry. Everyone at my school was a pastor, hospital chaplain, activist, or social worker. We are the people who care so much, and who are constantly doing emotional labor for those around us with no time off and usually, poor personal boundaries. Working in a field where it is your job to hold everyone’s hurt and be the face of God to them while their life falls apart is….hard. It was not unusual for me to work ten hours at Penn on my feet in campus ministry, helping people sort through whether or not they wanted to report their sexual assault, holding mini-interventions about excessive drinking, and scrambling to re-schedule worship night after my volunteer went to the hospital after a suicide attempt, and then ride the train home while my phone blew up with news of a new mass shooting that I would have to help host a candlelight vigil for. You hold your parishioner’s hand while they die in hospice. You watch social services take your client’s children away. You stand still while someone screams at you for being too political in your sermon, or not political enough. You sit down to do the budget only to realize the beloved pastor who just retired had been embezzling. Typical Tuesday.

A lot of the items on these lists are specific to my temperament and the culture at PTS, but by and large I would say it was an amazing experience well worth my time, effort, and money. I pushed myself academically beyond what I believed I was capable of, made the deepest friends of my life, found a home denomination, learned how to effectively care for others and myself, and was met by God in transformative ways again and again. Someday I may get that ordination or work for a ministry nonprofit again, but I have skills now that no one can take away from me, skills I use every day in some capacity.

Good luck in your discernment process, and I pray you find yourself in exactly the place you need to be!

#people of the page #princeton theological seminary #princeton seminary #seminary #grad school #studyblr #gradblr #theology

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anastpaul · 8 years ago

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Saint of the Day – 8 June – St Jacques Berthieu SJ – Martyr, Priest, Missionary known as the “Martyr of Madasgacar” (28 November 1838 in Monlogis, Polminhac, Cantal, France – shot on 8 June 1896 in Madagascar by Menalamba rebels for his work in replacing ancestor worship with Christianity, his body was dumped in the Mananara River). He was declared venerable in 1964, Beatified on 17 October 1965, at Saint Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City by Pope Paul VI and Canonised on 21 October 2012 by Pope Benedict XVI.

Jacques Berthieu was born on November 27, 1838, in the area of Montlogis, in Polminhac, in the Auvergne in central France, the son of deeply Christian farmers of modest means. His childhood was spent working and studying, surrounded by his family. The early death of an older sister made him the oldest of six children. He studied at the seminary of Saint-Flour and was ordained to the priesthood for this diocese on May 21, 1864. His bishop, Monseigneur de Pompignac, named him vicar in Roannes-Saint Mary, where he replaced an ill and aged priest. He served as a diocesan priest for nine years. Because of his desire to evangelize distant lands and to ground his spiritual life in the Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius, he sought admission to the Society of Jesus and entered the novitiate in Pau on October 31, 1873 at the age of thirty-five.

Mission He sailed from the port of Marseilles in 1875 to two islands in the vicinity of Madagascar that were then under French jurisdiction, Réunion and Sainte-Marie, where he studied Malagasy and prepared himself for the mission. The beginnings of his missionary life were not easy for this 37-year-old Jesuit. Climate, language, culture were all totally new things which made him exclaim, “My uselessness and my spiritual misery serve to humiliate me but not to discourage me. I await the hour when I can do something, with the grace of God”. Mindful of his farming background, he was happy to cultivate the kitchen garden that supplied the station. He and two other Jesuits and the Sisters of St. Joseph of Cluny formed a missionary team. There he was engaged in pastoral work for five years, until March 1880.

Madagascar In 1881, French legislation closed French territories to Jesuits, a measure which compelled Jacques Berthieu to relocate to the large island of Madagascar, an independent kingdom at that time. Jacques Berthieu went first to Tamatova and then to Tananarive until his superiors sent him to the far-off mission of Ambohimandroso, near Betsileo. The outbreak of the first French-Malagasy war in 1883 forced him to depart. From 1886 on, he supervised the mission of Ambositra, 250 km south of Antananarivo. After a stay in Ambositra of five years, he went to Andrainarivo in 1891. This post was northeast of the capital and had 18 mission-stations to look after, situated in the most remote and inaccessible places.

Insurrection of 1896 France captured the royal palaces in September 1894 and declared Madagascar its possession, sparking the Menalamba (“red shawl”) revolt against European influence. Europeans and Malagasy Christians were targeted by organized and armed Hova units. Jacques Berthieu sought to place the Christians under the protection of French troops. Deprived of this protection by a French colonel whom Berthieu had chastised for his behaviour with the women of the country, Berthieu led a convoy of Christians towards Antananarivo and stopped in the village of Ambohibemasoandro. On 8 June 1896, Menalamba fighters entered the village and found Jacques Berthieu hiding in the house of a Protestant friend. They seized him and stripped him of his cassock. One of them snatched his crucifix from him, saying: “Is this your amulet? Is it thus that you mislead the people? Will you continue to pray for a long time?” He responded: “I have to pray until I die.” One of them then struck Berthieu’s forehead with a machete; Berthieu fell to his knees, bleeding profusely. The Menalamba then led him away for what would be a long trek. After about a ten kilometer march, they reached the village of Ambohitra where the church Berthieu had built was located. They insisted that it would not be possible for Berthieu to enter the camp because he would desecrate the nearby sampy, the idols held sacred by traditional communities at that time. They threw a stone at him three times and the third time Berthieu fell prostrate. Not far from the village, since Berthieu was sweating, a Menalamba took Berthieu’s handkerchief, soaked it in mud and dirty water and tied it around Berthieu’s head, as they jeered at him, shouting: “Behold the king of the Vazaha (Europeans)”. Some then went on to emasculate him, which resulted in a fresh loss of blood that exhausted him.

Death As night drew near, in Ambiatibe, a village 50 kilometers north of Antananarivo, after some deliberation, a decision was made to kill Berthieu. The chief gathered a platoon of six men armed with guns. At the sight, Jacques Berthieu knelt down. Two men fired simultaneously at him but missed. Berthieu made the sign of the cross and bowed his head. One of the chiefs approached him and said: “Give up your hateful religion, do not mislead the people anymore and we will make you our counsellor and our chief and we will spare you.” He replied: “I cannot consent to this; I prefer to die.” Two men fired again. Berthieu bowed his head in prayer once more, and they missed him. Another fired a fifth shot, which hit Berthieu without killing him. He remained on his knees. A last shot, fired at close range, finally killed Jacques Berthieu. His body was dumped into the Mananara River and was never recovered.

As a missionary, Jacques Berthieu described his task thus: “This is what it means to be a missionary: to make oneself all things to all people, both interiorly and externally; to be responsible for everything, people, animals and things and all this in order to gain souls, with a large and generous heart.” His many efforts to promote education, to construct buildings, irrigation and gardens and to develop agricultural training all give witness to these words. He was a tireless catechist. A young school teacher, who was accompanying him on a journey, noticed that even while on horseback, Berthieu still had his catechism open before him. The teacher asked him: “Father, why are you still studying the catechism?” He answered: “My son, the catechism is a book one can never understand deeply enough, since it contains all of Catholic doctrine.” In those days, once on foreign mission, there was no question of returning to one’s country of origin. “God knows,” Berthieu said, “how much I still love the soil of my country and the beloved land of the Auvergne. And yet God has given me the grace to love even more these uncultivated fields of Madagascar, where I can only catch a few souls for our Lord… The mission progresses, even though the fruit is still a matter of hope in some places and hardly visible in others. But what does it matter, so long as we are good sowers? God will give growth when the time comes.”

A man of prayer, Jacques Berthieu drew his strength from it. “Whenever I looked for him,” declared one of the catechists, “I found him almost always on his knees in his room.” Another said: “I have seen no other Father remain so long before the Blessed Sacrament. Whenever we looked for him, we were sure to find him there.” A brother of his community also gave this testimony: “While he was convalescing, each time I entered his room, I found him on his knees, praying.” His love for God was such that they called him “tia vavaka” (the pious one). He was always seen with the rosary or the breviary in his hands. His faith expressed itself in his devotion to the Blessed Sacrament, the Eucharist being the source of his spiritual life. He also professed a special devotion to the Sacred Heart to which he consecrated himself in Paray-le-Monial before departing for mission and he became the apostle of this devotion among the Malagasy Christians. A fervent devotee of the Virgin Mary, he went on pilgrimage to Lourdes and the rosary was his favorite prayer; it was this prayer that he recited while he was being led to his death. He also venerated Saint Joseph.

As a shepherd, he addressed Christians with the very words of Christ: “my little children” (Jn 13, 33); as for his executioners, he questioned them with gentleness: “ry zanako, my children.” His charity was full of respect for others, even when he had to correct an erring believer. And yet, he knew how to speak strongly and firmly whenever he judged that the interests of God and of the church were at stake. He did not hide the demands of Christian life, beginning with the unity and the indissolubility of monogamous marriage. Polygamy being the usual practice at the time, he denounced the injustice and the abuses it generated, thus creating enemies, especially among the powerful.

On the eve of his death, while he was heading towards the capital with the Christians hunted down by the Menalamba, he was moved with compassion at the sight of a young man with a wounded foot. Berthieu began looking for carriers, offering a large amount of money for this service but all refused. Descending from his horse, Berthieu lifted the disabled man onto his mount and despite Berthieu’s own weakness, he himself continued the journey on foot, while pulling the animal by the bridle. “He was gentle,” declared a witness, “patient, zealous in carrying out his ministry whenever he was called, even when someone called him at midnight or when it was raining heavily.” In the south of Anjozorofady lived two female lepers. Whenever he returned from his travels, he would visit them, bring them food and clothes and teach them catechism, until he baptised them. He considered the accompaniment of the dying in their agony a most important ministry: “Whether I am eating or sleeping,” he would say, “do not be ashamed to call me; for me there is no stricter obligation than to visit the dying.”

St Jacques Beerthieu, pray for us!

#stjacquesberthieu #june8stjacquesberthieu #catholic #catholicism #jesuit #theholytrinity

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dawntoribio · 6 years ago

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This is the first part of the series where I will be talking about my birth and the struggles and positive experiences I’ve had with my family that served as valuable lessons for me to bring as I journey in life.

“By the grace of God, I am what I am.” 1 Corinthians 25:10

THE DAY I WAS BORN

My full name is Dawn Sayo Toribio, and my dad told me that I was named after the Dawn Service at our Church and also after an American Missionary named Dawn who was close with my Mom and my Dad. I was born on February 1, 1999, on Monday at 9 am in the Morning, at Mary Johnston’s Hospital in Tondo Manila.

MY PARENTS

My Father is Ephraim R. Toribio, and he works as a Senior Pastor of New Century Church, an independent Church in Los Baños, Laguna. While My Mother is Deborah S. Toribio, a Social Worker, and is currently working as the Country Director of Food for the Hungry Philippines.

MY SIBLINGS

I have two other siblings, an older brother, and a younger sister and I’m a middle child. My older brother is Psalm S. Toribio, and he is already 21 years old. While my younger sister is named Praise S. Toribio, and she is 18 years old.

MY GROWING YEARS

I grew up in the small province of Los Banos in Laguna, and I can say that I had a simple childhood. My dad is a full-time pastor and my mom being involved in community work and is also active in the church as a Sunday school teacher and growing as a Church choir member, I can say that I really grew up in a very Christian family and community, to add to this, our house was situated just at the back of our Church. I was being nurtured with Christian values every day not just at home through our daily devotions but also in school, for I studied in a Christian School during both my elementary and high school years, and ever since I went to school I was already trained through Christian learning and education, It was only during my College years that I went to a Catholic School, but during my almost four-year stay at the university, I can say that nothing much has really changed, it is somehow still the same as I continue to learn spiritually and know more values in which I can use in deepening my faith and strengthening my Christian faith.

MY EXPERIENCES

As I was growing up, I was surrounded by a lot of people who I can say that had a great influence on my life. I started school when I was 3 years old, and as a very shy child I only got to have a few friends since I don’t usually talk to other kids at school as I was scared that they will try to bully me or something since I somehow had the experience of a boy in my class who always teases me and follows me around everywhere in school, but I was active in singing and dance performances and I will always join and perform during school events and programs. But moving to Manila during my high school years, I was 11 at that time, it opened me to a new environment that somehow brought me out of my comfort zone. I excel more in academics, and I’ve been more active in school extra-curricular activities. Also, I met some people that were a bit too loud for my personality, but I eventually understood how people from different places possess different values and upbringing. Manila is different from Laguna, and I have to accept that. It was difficult at first, as I remember that on my first day in high school I chose to sit at the back and not interact with the kids around me, but eventually, I learned to adjust and love the place where I am and the people I’m with. In high school I’ve gained a lot of friends and experiences and one is that during these years I experienced being courted by some boys which is kind of new for me since I’m very much not open with the idea of love as it is making me cringe and I will try to distance myself from them, and I never really had a crush like other teenage girls do. College came by fast, and I really didn’t have a plan of what course to take, but UST was really my dream school, so it was the only school I took the exam in which is kind of risky. Also, I don’t really remember how I came across Asian Studies, I think it was suggested by someone I know but I was so drawn to the course that it became my first choice and sociology for the second. I was really glad and grateful for the Lord that I got in since it led me to where I am right now. College for me was the most memorable and the most unforgettable since it gave me a glimpse of what the world really is outside of what I think the world is. I gained more friends, who I can say thought me valuable lessons and people who I can really treasure for a lifetime. I also joined different organizations like Chorale and Scarlet. Also, it was during college that I had my first real crush, but unfortunately he doesn’t really know me which is a little funny since I was just a stalker, and I know it’s a little creepy, but he was just so mysterious and the silent-type of guy and I would love to know him better if I had the opportunity, but only as friends of course. Also, about this love life the youth is always talking about, people sometimes are surprised that I’ve never had an experience of having a boyfriend and will ask me why since both my siblings already had their share of experiences, but It’s more surprising for me that it’s surprising for them because I’m young, I’m 19 and its as if having a boyfriend is a requirement. I think youth nowadays are so drawn to the idea of love and romance and is rushing to be in a relationship, but personally, I value relationships very much that I don’t want to rush on things that are not permanent as I believe it will just be a waste of my time. I really want my first to be the last, so I’m patient enough to wait for the right time God will give me my other half since I know that when that day comes It will be very worth it. I also gave a promise to my parents that I’ll finish my studies first before having a relationship since I want first to give back all their sacrifices for me, even if I know it won’t be enough, I just really want to make them proud and happy. Also, I want first to improve and invest in myself and to really enjoy my freedom before thinking about the responsibilities that come with being committed to someone. It may be something they now consider as “manang”, but I don’t really mind since It’s what I believe that would be best for me. This is just some of my personal experiences, and I can’t wait to experience more as I journey through life.

I can say that I’m truly blessed with the life and the family God has given me. I’m one of those few people who were blessed enough to have that opportunity in knowing God ever since the time I was born, and gradually deepen my relationship with Him as I grow up for I was shaped and influenced by the community and the environment I was in. I even asked my father one time why I wasn’t like those people who have touching stories of a changed life because of God, as they somehow have this kind of epiphany that when they got to meet Jesus, their lives were transformed, but my father told me that I should be more grateful that I don’t have to go through that kind of darkness just to know God and thank the Lord that I was one of those blessed enough to know him earlier in my life, and know as I grow up I’m starting to understand why.

THE STRUGGLES

However, that kind of life is not always rainbows and sunshine. For me, it still has some of its struggles and downside, especially during my childhood years. Both my parents are working as a part of the community, and as a part of their job and their service to the community is that they also need to consider the well-fare of others, and they have to lend their time for their mission. I sometimes think that it is becoming a struggle for us at some points because My father and my mother’s mission are also both in different places. My mom is working here in Manila, while my dad’s mission and I and my siblings’ life are used to living in Laguna so My mom would have to commute and travel all the way from Manila to Laguna every day which is becoming difficult for her, but she continues to endure. Also sometime in our life, the Church’s struggle is also becoming our struggle and our family has to bear with it since my Dad is the Senior Pastor and it is his duty as a servant of God. Lastly, what I somehow struggled the most was the pressure of always being good since my parents have this certain image as servant leaders. We were expected to always do the same things as them, and it wasn’t really wrong and bad, but the constant pressure of meeting their expectations to not disappoint them is always there so I’m sometimes afraid to make mistakes. But Innocence is a bliss, and as I understand things I’m starting to appreciate more the family that I have even with the constant struggles and problems we are faced with. We became much stronger as a family since God has been with us all through our ups and downs and as I have said we weren’t really a perfect family, but I can say that we are happy and contented and that it is all because of God’s blessings and graces.

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strivesy · 7 years ago

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Why Do You Run? Understanding Your Motivation

Day 6 Challenge of 80 Days of Excellence

From the Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis

Follow @coolcatteacher on Twitter

There’s a fantastic scene in Chariots of Fire where runner Eric Liddell tells his sister,

“I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure.”

This post is day six of 80 days of excellence. I’ve created an email list below for those of you want to be emailed the full posts written as part of this series.

You see, his sister didn’t want him to run. She thought it was a distraction. Yet he knew he was called to run. Then, when he was at the prime of his career and could have done and had anything, he left to be a missionary in China. In fact, he could have gotten out of China to go with his wife and daughters to Canada but felt led to stay behind.

According to the documentary Eric Liddell, Champion of Conviction, He was so beloved by all in the camp that when he died, just before liberation, that everyone went to the funeral.

According to his biography, Sweet Surrender, he taught the boys in the camp. An internee in the Camp remembered Eric’s explanation to the boys in the camp of the meaning of the word ‘sincere.’ The word comes from Latin sine ceres – without wax.

“If a Roman sculptor accidentally chipped a statue he was making, he would fill the crack with wax, which went unnoticed until hot weather melted it and the flaw was exposed. So a perfect work was one sine ceres — without wax. ‘I always think of Eric as that true statue, a sincere man in every sense,’ reminisced Mitchell. Indeed, Liddell once received a letter from one of his pupils signed, ‘yours without wax.'”

So, Eric was sincere. He ran because he felt God’s pleasure. He stayed in China because he believed God called him to China. He was without wax and when his family left for Canada, he did not melt and stayed in China. Certainly many today would not understand this kind of person.

Finding purpose can be a challenge. Pastor Michael Catt, author of The Power of Purpose, says on page 57,

“If you don’t begin to see yourself on a mission, you’re just going to be miserable for the rest of your life.”

So, here’s the question for today: Why do you run?

For me, I’m called to write and teach and share. I didn’t find my mission, my mission found me. God called me to blog in 2005 and it scared me. I was afraid. I went home and told Kip that I felt God called me to blog but I didn’t know what it was. He said,

“I don’t know either but I know when you’re called to something that you have to do it.”

Now, as I write and when I speak and when I teach, I feel His pleasure. When I make movies with kids. When I podcast (well maybe not editing so much, I hate editing) but when I record and post, I sure do. I know and feel God’s calling on my life. And DOING that calling is some of the most joyful, exciting moments of my life. I’m in the flow and moment.

Running can be a reward even if you’re running for a prize

There have been mistaken years. Times when I was competing for an award or a prize of some kind. Lots of times I’d fall short. But sometimes I would win. And those “wins” are memorable. Thunderous applause. Usually tears. Kind thank you’s and giving God the credit. But in the end, I felt the same the next day.

No award has ever given me lasting satisfaction of any kind. Awards on this earth are and will never enough. I have to polish and dust the award and sometimes I take them off the wall.

Knowing Your Calling is a Joy

However, for example, I knew as I prayed over my goals for this year that I was to commit to 80 days of excellence. While I still think I may just post an inspirational photo or something some days, so far, it has turned into six blog posts for the first six days.

And as I write, I feel His pleasure. But that doesn’t make it easy.

And tonight I came home and asked Kip, “what am I supposed to write about excellence?” He didn’t know. It wasn’t his to know.

So, I went and took my big blazing hot bubble bath I take every night and read and then prayed and closed my eyes. As I closed my eyes, I saw the scene from Chariots of Fire where Eric Liddell is running and I heard the quote in my mind,

“God made me fast and when I run, I feel his pleasure.”

Sometimes It Takes Time to Know Your Calling

Finding your calling isn’t easy. It is different for everyone. But for me and my beliefs, there’s another quote in Chariots of Fire that summarizes how I feel about finding that calling. Eric Liddell is giving a speech the day of a race and says to the spectators,

“You came to see a race today. To see someone win. It happened to be me.

But I want you to do more than just watch a race. I want you to take part in it.

I want to compare faith to running in a race. It’s hard. It requires concentration of will, energy of soul. You experience elation when the winner breaks the tape – especially if you’ve got a bet on it.

But how long does that last? You go home. Maybe your dinner’s burnt. Maybe you haven’t got a job. So who am I to say, “Believe, have faith,” in the face of life’s realities?

I would like to give you something more permanent, but I can only point the way. I have no formula for winning the race. Everyone runs in her own way, or his own way. And where does the power come from, to see the race to its end? From within.

Jesus said, “Behold, the Kingdom of God is within you. If with all your hearts, you truly seek me, you shall ever surely find me.” If you commit yourself to the love of Christ, then that is how you run a straight race.”

Why I Run

I’d love to pretend I’m smart enough to deserve some of the accolades I’ve listed on the side of my blog. I’d like to think that I’m super great at something. But I’m here to tell you, that I’m one of those people Eric Liddel talks about who is “committed to the love of Christ.”

Like this very blog post, I seek God and He helps me and guides me. Oh, I am not perfect. Not by a long shot. I make mistakes every day. Sometimes I go my own way and owe people big apologies. But in the end, I know that my only purpose is to honor God with my life.

And while Eric Liddell ran, I do other things. I run my own race. You run yours.

How About You?

And you, my friend, you have a race. You have a calling.

Don’t know it yet? That is OK.

But if you don’t know something and you don’t start trying to do something about it, that is a problem. Ignorance may be bliss but if you finally figure out you’re ignorant and you don’t do anything about it, you’re not ignorant, you’re dumb.

There’s much wisdom to be found for those who seek it. There are many purposes to be found.

Life, to me, isn’t about being the best. I believe that “world class” excellence is available to us all.

But to me, life is about finding our purpose and throwing everything we have at it.

For when this life is done and they play the organ at the end of my funeral and roll me out, everybody will file out but me. I won’t be there. I’ll be appearing before the audience of One who will give me the only prize that will ever mean anything to me. The only one that lasts. And I hope when my race here is finally done that I’ll hear,

“Well done, my good and faithful servant.”

That, my friends, is why I run.

How about you?

The post Why Do You Run? Understanding Your Motivation appeared first on Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis @coolcatteacher helping educators be excellent every day. Meow!

Why Do You Run? Understanding Your Motivation published first on http://ift.tt/2yTzsdq

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succeedly · 7 years ago

Text

Why Do You Run? Understanding Your Motivation

Day 6 Challenge of 80 Days of Excellence

From the Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis

Follow @coolcatteacher on Twitter

There’s a fantastic scene in Chariots of Fire where runner Eric Liddell tells his sister,

“I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure.”

This post is day six of 80 days of excellence. I’ve created an email list below for those of you want to be emailed the full posts written as part of this series.

According to the documentary Eric Liddell, Champion of Conviction, He was so beloved by all in the camp that when he died, just before liberation, that everyone went to the funeral.

Finding purpose can be a challenge. Pastor Michael Catt, author of The Power of Purpose, says on page 57,

“If you don’t begin to see yourself on a mission, you’re just going to be miserable for the rest of your life.”

So, here’s the question for today: Why do you run?

“I don’t know either but I know when you’re called to something that you have to do it.”

Running can be a reward even if you’re running for a prize

No award has ever given me lasting satisfaction of any kind. Awards on this earth are and will never enough. I have to polish and dust the award and sometimes I take them off the wall.

Knowing Your Calling is a Joy

And as I write, I feel His pleasure. But that doesn’t make it easy.

And tonight I came home and asked Kip, “what am I supposed to write about excellence?” He didn’t know. It wasn’t his to know.

“God made me fast and when I run, I feel his pleasure.”

Sometimes It Takes Time to Know Your Calling

“You came to see a race today. To see someone win. It happened to be me.

But I want you to do more than just watch a race. I want you to take part in it.

But how long does that last? You go home. Maybe your dinner’s burnt. Maybe you haven’t got a job. So who am I to say, “Believe, have faith,” in the face of life’s realities?

Why I Run

And while Eric Liddell ran, I do other things. I run my own race. You run yours.

How About You?

And you, my friend, you have a race. You have a calling.

Don’t know it yet? That is OK.

There’s much wisdom to be found for those who seek it. There are many purposes to be found.

Life, to me, isn’t about being the best. I believe that “world class” excellence is available to us all.

But to me, life is about finding our purpose and throwing everything we have at it.

“Well done, my good and faithful servant.”

That, my friends, is why I run.

How about you?

The post Why Do You Run? Understanding Your Motivation appeared first on Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis @coolcatteacher helping educators be excellent every day. Meow!

Why Do You Run? Understanding Your Motivation published first on http://ift.tt/2jn9f0m

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ralph31ortiz · 7 years ago

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Why Do You Run? Understanding Your Motivation

Day 6 Challenge of 80 Days of Excellence

From the Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis

Follow @coolcatteacher on Twitter

There’s a fantastic scene in Chariots of Fire where runner Eric Liddell tells his sister,

“I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure.”

This post is day six of 80 days of excellence. I’ve created an email list below for those of you want to be emailed the full posts written as part of this series.

According to the documentary Eric Liddell, Champion of Conviction, He was so beloved by all in the camp that when he died, just before liberation, that everyone went to the funeral.

Finding purpose can be a challenge. Pastor Michael Catt, author of The Power of Purpose, says on page 57,

“If you don’t begin to see yourself on a mission, you’re just going to be miserable for the rest of your life.”

So, here’s the question for today: Why do you run?

“I don’t know either but I know when you’re called to something that you have to do it.”

Running can be a reward even if you’re running for a prize

No award has ever given me lasting satisfaction of any kind. Awards on this earth are and will never enough. I have to polish and dust the award and sometimes I take them off the wall.

Knowing Your Calling is a Joy

And as I write, I feel His pleasure. But that doesn’t make it easy.

And tonight I came home and asked Kip, “what am I supposed to write about excellence?” He didn’t know. It wasn’t his to know.

“God made me fast and when I run, I feel his pleasure.”

Sometimes It Takes Time to Know Your Calling

“You came to see a race today. To see someone win. It happened to be me.

But I want you to do more than just watch a race. I want you to take part in it.

But how long does that last? You go home. Maybe your dinner’s burnt. Maybe you haven’t got a job. So who am I to say, “Believe, have faith,” in the face of life’s realities?

Why I Run

And while Eric Liddell ran, I do other things. I run my own race. You run yours.

How About You?

And you, my friend, you have a race. You have a calling.

Don’t know it yet? That is OK.

There’s much wisdom to be found for those who seek it. There are many purposes to be found.

Life, to me, isn’t about being the best. I believe that “world class” excellence is available to us all.

But to me, life is about finding our purpose and throwing everything we have at it.

“Well done, my good and faithful servant.”

That, my friends, is why I run.

How about you?

The post Why Do You Run? Understanding Your Motivation appeared first on Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis @coolcatteacher helping educators be excellent every day. Meow!

from Cool Cat Teacher BlogCool Cat Teacher Blog http://www.coolcatteacher.com/run-understanding-motivation/

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patriciaanderson357-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Why Do You Run? Understanding Your Motivation

Day 6 Challenge of 80 Days of Excellence

From the Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis

Follow @coolcatteacher on Twitter

There’s a fantastic scene in Chariots of Fire where runner Eric Liddell tells his sister,

“I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure.”

This post is day six of 80 days of excellence. I’ve created an email list below for those of you want to be emailed the full posts written as part of this series.

According to the documentary Eric Liddell, Champion of Conviction, He was so beloved by all in the camp that when he died, just before liberation, that everyone went to the funeral.

Finding purpose can be a challenge. Pastor Michael Catt, author of The Power of Purpose, says on page 57,

“If you don’t begin to see yourself on a mission, you’re just going to be miserable for the rest of your life.”

So, here’s the question for today: Why do you run?

“I don’t know either but I know when you’re called to something that you have to do it.”

Running can be a reward even if you’re running for a prize

No award has ever given me lasting satisfaction of any kind. Awards on this earth are and will never enough. I have to polish and dust the award and sometimes I take them off the wall.

Knowing Your Calling is a Joy

And as I write, I feel His pleasure. But that doesn’t make it easy.

And tonight I came home and asked Kip, “what am I supposed to write about excellence?” He didn’t know. It wasn’t his to know.

“God made me fast and when I run, I feel his pleasure.”

Sometimes It Takes Time to Know Your Calling

“You came to see a race today. To see someone win. It happened to be me.

But I want you to do more than just watch a race. I want you to take part in it.

But how long does that last? You go home. Maybe your dinner’s burnt. Maybe you haven’t got a job. So who am I to say, “Believe, have faith,” in the face of life’s realities?

Why I Run

And while Eric Liddell ran, I do other things. I run my own race. You run yours.

How About You?

And you, my friend, you have a race. You have a calling.

Don’t know it yet? That is OK.

There’s much wisdom to be found for those who seek it. There are many purposes to be found.

Life, to me, isn’t about being the best. I believe that “world class” excellence is available to us all.

But to me, life is about finding our purpose and throwing everything we have at it.

“Well done, my good and faithful servant.”

That, my friends, is why I run.

How about you?

The post Why Do You Run? Understanding Your Motivation appeared first on Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis @coolcatteacher helping educators be excellent every day. Meow!

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hottytoddynews · 7 years ago

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Someone on our staff had a brilliant idea: Each one of us should write a piece about our favorite Christmas movies. As editor, I could have shot it down – and I probably should have – but I didn’t. The truth is, I am woefully unqualified for this assignment. My all-time favorite Christmas movies? I’ve only watched, like, six or seven in my entire life. I like Christmas just fine, but I’m mildly allergic to holiday programming, especially the same programming year after year.

There were no “family traditions” in my family, unless you count everyone getting mad at Christmas dinner over some minor grievance and quitting speaking to each other until Easter as a tradition. We certainly didn’t gather around the TV to watch “It’s a Wonderful Life” on Christmas Eve. I usually snuck away to drink beer and smoke cigarettes and meet up with my friends on some isolated country road for a bottle rocket war. My idea of a holiday tradition was to roll the same poor teacher’s Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer yard art five Christmas Eves in a row.

Now that I’m older, I’ve quit smoking, rarely drink beer and haven’t rolled a Rudolph in, like, several years. This should afford me more time to watch Christmas movies, but I usually don’t. Even so, I have decided, based on my extremely limited expertise, that these three are the best ones ever made:

“National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation”—If you like your holiday movies loud, slapsticky and loaded with crass sight gags, this is the one for you. With a cartoonishly funny screenplay by the one and only John Hughes, “Christmas Vacation” brings together a family of Izod-wearing yuppies and a clan of country cousins for a holiday dinner that inevitably goes awry, complete with a leg-humping hound dog “yakkin’ on a bone” underneath the table and a dotty old aunt who says “grace” by reciting the Pledge of Allegiance.

Chevy Chase is great, as always. And Jane Krakowski of “30 Rock” and “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt” fame has a tiny role with a single hilarious line about French kissing that will make you spit out your egg nog.

But it’s Randy Quaid’s portrayal of the uncouth Cousin Eddie that carries the film. As with most great comedy, there’s an undercurrent of pathos here—the working-class Eddie’s down on his luck and just trying to make ends meet by living with his family in a camper and mooching off relatives—and Quaid makes his character somehow both repulsive and sympathetic. When the Griswolds’ family cat gets thoroughly electrocuted underneath the living room chair, Cousin Eddie, accustomed to thrifty living, thinks he can save the piece of furniture: “If you don’t mind, Clark, I’d like to see if I can fumigate this here chair,” he says. “It’s a good quality item.”

Cousin Eddie doesn’t mind too much that it smells like “fried pussycat.”

“The Homecoming: A Christmas Story”—This is the 1971 TV-movie that spawned “The Waltons” a year or two later. Set on a Christmas Eve during the Depression, it depicts a dirt-poor family living in the mountains of Virginia as they anxiously await the return of their patriarch, John, who’s been away seeking work and might be lost or missing in the bitterly cold, snowy night.

Aside from wooden performances by some of the younger stars, the characters are vividly drawn by talented actors like Patricia Neal as the mother, Olivia, a deeply romantic soul of middle age who’s still madly in love with her husband, and Richard Thomas as the sensitive eldest son, John-Boy, who wants to be a writer.

“The Homecoming” also gave us a pair of memorable characters in the Baldwyn sisters, two elderly spinsters who have survived hard times by peddling their late father’s bootleg whiskey (euphemistically called “the recipe”), and Hawthorne Dooley (played by Cleavon Little of “Blazing Saddles” fame), a charming and fun-loving preacher who, during a visit to the Baldwyn sisters’ home, isn’t averse to taking a sip of “the recipe” just to be polite.

The kindly Pastor Dooley better embodies the spirit of Christ than a high-society missionary woman who, in one of the movie’s classic scenes, aims to convert the local hillbilly “heathens” by giving away free presents only to children who can recite Bible verses. The youngest Walton girl—freckle-faced, red-haired Elizabeth—eagerly tears the wrapping off her prize only to burst into tears at the sight of it: a doll with a broken face. “It’s dead!” she cries, heartbroken. “Somebody killed it.”

It’s one of many poignant and nuanced scenes in “The Homecoming,” a made-for-TV movie that rose above its genre and deserves a wider audience today. See for yourself: Click on the video above to watch the movie in its entirety. You’re welcome.

“A Christmas Story”—Even though I have watched only about a half-dozen Christmas movies in my lifetime, I will fight anyone who says “A Christmas Story” isn’t the best one ever. It’s better than all those movies I’ve never watched—this is an indisputable fact. It may very well be the funniest movie ever made, period.

Every time Schwartz says, “Hey, listen, smartass,” I snicker. I cannot see the word “fragile” without pronouncing it “fra-gee-lay” in my head.

The script is one of the great marvels of the English language, packed with beautifully worded little gems like Ralphie’s description of the leg lamp (“the soft glow of electric sex gleaming in the window”) and the opening of the gifts on Christmas morning (“We plunged into the cornucopia, quivering with desire and the ecstasy of unbridled avarice”).

Scut Farkus and his yellow eyes. Grover Dill, Farkus’ “crummy little toadie” whose “lips curled over his green teeth.” Ralphie’s dad, bursting with pride in his leg lamp and explaining to a neighbor that he won the “major award” through “mind power, Swede, mind power.”

You can have your cutesy Christmas angels and your adorable little moppets who prove Santa Claus is real. I’d rather listen to Ralphie’s old man spluttering and cussing incoherently while the Bumpuses’ dogs tear through the kitchen.

And the only present I want under my tree is what Flick gave his old man: “A rose that squirts. People come to smell it, it squirts them.”

Rick Hynum is editor-in-chief of HottyToddy.com.

The post Forget “It’s a Wonderful Life” – These Are the 3 Best Christmas Movies Ever Made appeared first on HottyToddy.com.

#hottytoddy #olemiss #oxfordms #oxford ms #mississippi #university of mississippi #the grove

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hereticmk · 8 years ago

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Resurrection.

If the bones of Jesus were found tomorrow, what would it do to your faith?

The answer to this question isn’t as easy as it may sound. Ask me the question 15 years ago and I’d say “what do you mean?” Even 10 years ago my answer wouldn’t have changed. But the last 5 years have been different. The last 3 even more so.

I hadn’t read much since High School, burned out by all the required reading for mundane classes. I prided myself on that fact, like any 20 something male would. In the last 3 years (I’m 31 now) that has changed. If it weren’t for side projects, 2 small children, and the fact that reading puts me to sleep still, I wouldn’t be able to put books down. But I stick to philosophy and religion.

I grew up what I would call Evangelical Christian. My parents did not seem fundamentalist, in fact far from it usually. But the Bible was inerrant (something I never questioned), and everything we needed to know to live a life worthy of Christ was found in it.

Last year I read the Koran cover to cover (in English unfortunately). I got a ways into the Bhagavad Gita before I couldn’t handle it any more. Maybe it was the translation I had. Maybe it’s that I don’t like fantasy/epic tales and battles. I got a few pages into the Vedas. I recently started reading the Talmud. Years ago I attempted the Book of Mormon but was mostly annoyed. And of course I have a long history and deep familiarity with the Bible. I’m not sure what religious text I’ll pick up next, but it’s quite fascinating trying to grasp life from the viewpoints of others who believe their path is the way that leads to God/Enlightenment/Heaven/Utopia/Good stuff.

I’ve also fallen in love (and out again) with Nietzsche, Renan, Tillich, and others. I love the philosophical approach to religion, especially when it comes to Christianity.

My own faith has changed so much in the past 3 or 4 years I barely recognize it. I have a running vision in my head of where I am on the continuum of the faith I grew up in. For the first few months of the beginning of my branching out I saw myself on very solid ground. As time went on, the vision showed me nudging closer to the edge of a cliff very similar to those in Dover. A year or so later I would see myself repelling down the edge of the cliff, but on sturdy ropes. Even later I imagine myself treading water at the base of the cliff, but easily within reach of the shore if emergency struck. And then I started to see myself swimming further out to sea, occasionally dipping my head underwater. As I look at my faith now I see myself in deep water, hundreds of yards away from shore, but not as scared as when I was treading water. Every day I found myself somehow drawing deeper into the contents of what I believe, but further from the version I was taught.

The fear that remains is not really of the religious kind, it is of the disappointment kind. My parents are what I would call “strong” Christians. Faith was a central part of our life as a family of four. My parents were (and in some capacities still are) missionaries, and my life consisted of much traveling, many churches, mission trips, Sunday services, and general Christian things. The most miraculous part is that both my brother and I would still consider ourselves Christ followers. We were not abused, abandoned, or otherwise disenfranchised with the church. I owe this to my parents. They were a consistent source of what real faith looked like: sometimes messy. To this day they only go to church if they are leading worship that Sunday. Even as a kid I remember the looks my parents would get for acting in very counter-evangelical ways. My brother and I would sneak up after church and split the communion bread (upon my mother’s prompting) so that we could last until lunchtime with the Pastor (who of course was always the last to leave church).

The faith I grew up in involved simultaneously supporting the sacrament of communion during the service, while realizing that the bread was nothing more than just bread. And at some churches, damned good bread too. The kind of bread an 8 and 10 year old set of brothers would happily chomp away at backstage while their parents wrapped cables and packed away instruments.

This ability to see the magic as well as spend time with the man behind the curtain was shaping my faith more than my parents knew at the time.

At the Last Supper, Jesus broke the bread, drank the wine, passed it around the table, and said the super vague phrase “when you do this, do it in remembrance of me.” The bread was his body, the wine his blood. But we’ve exchanged bread for crackers, or wafers, or hamburger buns, or baguettes, or bread. We’ve taken the gluten out of the bread. We’ve added grape juice as well as wine. We’ve served it on trays and plates. We’ve taken it, had it handed to us, had it placed on our tongues, dipped it, sipped it, passed it, and gotten nervous about it when the person in front of us has a cough. What is communion? We’re told to make sure our hearts are “ready” for it, or that only if we are already part of the Church, or part of THIS church, or baptized, or maybe baptized as infants is cool (but not at THIS church). You stay in your seat, cross your hands over your chest, take it and fake it, take it and real it, and all sorts of things if you haven’t “said the sinner’s prayer.” What is communion?

Modern-day Communion surely represents everything we’ve turned Jesus into. A plethora of options that suit our tastes, or the rules of the Elders, or the agreement of the church, or the Tradition passed down. But what is it? I guess it is nothing more than a group of people having decided to collectively affirm the tradition and the historical words of Jesus. Isn’t that all church is? Just a collection of people affirming tradition and history?

Back to my original question: if the bones of Jesus were found tomorrow, what would it do to your faith?

My answer starts with a question. What did Jesus come to do? A Bible answer first: to seek and save the lost. Or, he came that we may have life, and have it to the fullest. Or he came to become the path to God. Or he came to play some kind of middle man between us, our sin, and God. Or he came to conquer death. Or he came to set up a kingdom (what the Jews were expecting). So, I have a few more questions:

Did he accomplish his goals while alive?

Did he need to die in order to finish accomplishing his goals?

Did he need to resurrect in order complete his goals?

Did his heart need to literally start beating again in order to resurrect?

That last question admittedly is fresh off my brain as I work through Renan’s “The Apostles.” Where he completely denies a physical resurrection of Jesus’ body and claims it is a resurrection that, while just as critically important, occurs in the minds, hearts, and spirits of his followers, effectively producing the same end result.

Jesus was never clear. He was rarely clear about anything. And of his death and subsequent resurrection, he was no different. “I will destroy and rebuild the temple in three days,” along with its explanation, is about the closest we seem to come (along with a few other allusions to how he might die).

Someone very, very remarkable came along 2000 years ago. So remarkable in fact, that a tiny, tiny, tiny group of Jews not only decided to stop what they were doing and follow him, but through even more remarkable events, decided to (eventually) keep a record of what happened, and spawn a global movement that has changed the course of history for every human on the planet.

I have no reason to doubt the supernatural interfering with we claim is the “natural” world. I have had enough experiences myself to realize that weird things happen that we cannot explain. In some ways I hope one day we can start explaining supernatural items with the laws of nature. I think that makes them even more intensely interesting. I have no reason to doubt that Jesus is somehow the Son of God. If God is the essence of being, the force behind life, the love that appears between humans, then I don’t know how it works for him to have a son, but between translations of what Son of God means, and us not really being able to grasp it, I don’t have a problem letting that one go for now.

Paul Tillich has a great quote in “Shaking the Foundations” in what it meant for Christ to die:

The Christ had to suffer and die, because whenever the Divine appears in all Its depth, it cannot be endured by men. It must be pushed away by the political powers, the religious authorities, and the bearers of cultural tradition. In the picture of the Crucified, we look at the rejection of the Divine by humanity. We see that, in this rejection, not the lowest, but the highest representatives of mankind are judged. Whenever the Divine appears, it is a radical attack on everything that is good in man, and therefore man must repel it, must push it away, must crucify it. Whenever the Divine manifests Itself as the new reality, it must be rejected by the representatives of the old reality. For the Divine does not complete the human; it revolts against the human. Because of that, the human must defend itself against it, must reject it, and must try to destroy it.

If the Apostles made everything up. If they got together, conspired to “pretend” Jesus rose from the dead in bodily form. If they kept the secret so well, and were able to write it down in a way that solidified the fact for generations to come, I would first of all be very impressed. Second of all, would it matter? Does not the church today (an idea borrowed from Tillich) represent Jesus as the Christ. Does the Church not shadow and act as Jesus? Is not the Church the very proof needed as to what Jesus was trying to accomplish in his time.

I find myself in deep dark water. I find myself not denying the resurrection, per se. As denying the resurrection is the one thing that my faith as a child does not allow me to do. That is the very thing our faith has been based on for so long. If the Christ did not die and was not resurrected, then we as Christ followers, in the words of (St. Paul I believe), should be “pitied most of all.” But I do find myself starting to understand the theory behind how one could believe that a flesh and bone resurrection is in many ways as good as a spiritual and heart-felt resurrection. The end goal is the same thing: a Church lives on to represent (as best it can) the life Jesus led, and the direction he pointed the Church.

I may find myself in deep water, but I am not alone. Renan writes from 1866 and depicts with striking clarity the future versions of Christianity, Islam, and attitudes towards spirituality in general.

To be continued…

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werkboileddown · 8 years ago

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Research with the ‘Are’Are

The ��Are’are people live in the southern part of Malaita in the Solomon Islands (in Melanesia). During the 1970s the population numbered between 8,000 and 9,000. In earlier times the majority of the people inhabited small hamlets in the mountainous interior of the island, and some lived on the edge of the lagoons of the south-west and of the Mara Masika Passage, the strait which separates Small Malaita from the main island. Since colonial times, many villages have been established on the coast.

The traditional economy consists essentially of the shifting cultivation of tubers (taro, yams and sweet potatoes), the breeding of pigs for ceremonial festivities and fishing on the coast. Colonization introduced the production of copra for export and the breeding, on a small scale, of cattle.

Culturally homogenous, the country of the ’Are’are can be systematically divided into two principal zones whose traditional political organization diverges: the south where the hereditary chiefs come from, and the north, where “big men” emerge through their actions, gathering around them friends and relatives, and increasing their prestige by giving funeral feasts in which food, shell money and music are exchanged. The “big men” from the north and from the south are referred to by the same term, aaraha.

This two-fold division is also reflected in the distribution of musical types: in the north, there is only one type of vocal music for men (divination song), while in the south there are three others (paddling song, pounding song, song with beaten bamboos). Among the four types of panpipe ensembles found, one (’au keto) is only played in the north.

The traditional religious practice was the ancestor cult. During my first stay in the country between 1969 and 1970, at least 90% of the population were Christian, about half of them belonging to the South-Sea Evangelical Church, a fundamentalist church with Baptist allegiance, and the other half divided between followers of the Catholic Church and the Melanesian Church (of Anglican origin). The followers of the Catholic and Melanesian Churches continued to perform traditional music. They participated in the traditional funeral festivities and panpipe ensembles could be heard at the inauguration of a church, a dispensary or a school. Attempts were also made to introduce selected elements of traditional music into church service. On the other hand, the members of the SSEC, following the directives of the expatriate missionaries and Melanesian pastors, condemned all traditional music as “devil music,” the spirits of the ancestors being described by them as “devils.” As a result, for all their music the followers of the SSEC had only Protestant hymns of American origin and the songs which some ethnomusicologists have called “Panpacific Pop,” of neo-Polynesian inspiration, accompanied by guitar and ukulele.

This popular music, which the young ‘Are’are sang, usually in pidgin English (the lingua franca of the Solomons) but also occasionally in the ’Are’are language, was widely spread through the radio. From a musical viewpoint these compositions had no features that were specifically ’Are’are or characteristic of the Solomon Islands. The ‘Are’are were very conscious that the musical style of the religious hymns and of these secular songs was imported, and called them nuuha ni haka or ’au ni haka, “song of the whites” or “music of the whites.” On the other hand, the different types of traditional music, each with its own name, were generally described collectively by the expressions “music of custom” or “songs of custom” (‘au or nuuha ni tootoraha), or even more simply as “music of the land (of the ancestors),” ’au ni hanua.

During the 1970s, when these two films were shot, the music enjoyed by the majority and widely distributed through the radio, consisted of the cowboy songs of Australia, a local variant of the Country and Western style. In the request programs on local radio, which satisfied the wishes of those who knew how to write in English, the Beatles were also frequently heard. In 1969 the Solomon Islands radio station only devoted a quarter of an hour a week to traditional music and oral literature.

If during my work in the Solomon Islands, and in my two films, I devoted myself exclusively to traditional music, it was for reasons of urgency and solidarity with the traditional musicians.

The former British Solomon Islands Protectorate includes six main islands and about 100 smaller ones. The total population is relatively small (less than 150,000 in 1969), but it is characterized by great cultural and linguistic variety. Depending upon the linguistic criteria used, there are between 70 and 100 distinct languages. There are perhaps as many musical cultures. The most urgent task then was to document and study the traditional music before certain genres disappeared or were radically transformed. New genres, such as church and popular music, are also changing, but it is easier, at the time when we wish to study it, to nd historical recordings, thanks to the production of records, to the archives of the missions and especially to the radio. In common with the traditional musicians, I did not want to increase the standing of acculturated music. This music, secular and religious, had no need of support: it was already sufficiently sustained by the prestige attached to everything that came from Europeans (political, economic, educational and religious domination). In order to be able to study traditional music, I had to show unambiguously that I was on the side of those who performed it. I could not be a neutral observer. I chose the “side of custom” (po’o ni tootoraha) at the expense of the “church side” (po’o ni sukuru)1; this was a precondition necessary to gain the confidence of the traditional musicians. Today, now that the inventory of different musical genres used by the ’Are’are is complete, it would be interesting to document and study the present situation, with the interactions, conflicts and eventually the intermingling between traditions and popular music.

#solomon islands #hugo zemp #'are'are #malaita

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hottytoddynews · 7 years ago

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Cousin Eddie doesn’t mind too much that it smells like “fried pussycat.”

Every time Schwartz says, “Hey, listen, smartass,” I snicker. I cannot see the word “fragile” without pronouncing it “fra-gee-lay” in my head.

And the only present I want under my tree is what Flick gave his old man: “A rose that squirts. People come to smell it, it squirts them.”

Rick Hynum is editor-in-chief of HottyToddy.com.

The post Forget “It’s a Wonderful Life” – These Are the 3 Best Christmas Movies Ever Made appeared first on HottyToddy.com.

#hottytoddy #olemiss #oxfordms #oxford ms #mississippi #university of mississippi #the grove

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