Gremlins and Thesis Topics

Don't ever get it wet. Keep it away from bright light. And the most important thing, the one thing you must never forget: no matter how much it cries out, no matter how much it begs . . . never, never feed it after midnight.

These are the words of wisdom given us, the lowly MTS students, in our care and treatment of a thesis topic.

Additional Resources: Care and Feeding of (PhD) Students

A Glass of Brut, Theology and Sports

When you don't have internet access at home, you find relatively creative ways to complete online assignments. In my current case, this involves multi-tasking.

"What?" you wonder? Reading five books, watching a Utah-Oregon game (with a friend watching the Twins n Tigers go at it), blogging, contributing to the wiki and of course, drinking brut all at the local micro brew restaurant.

This is the advantage of wifi in a sports bar with a sports package in a college town.

Recommendation: Two thumbs up.

Honkytonks, Origami and the Bible

“I very much hope you’ve enjoyed listening to this episode, Narrative Criticism. If you have I hope you’ll listen to other episodes in the series, Introducing the Tanak.”

Then, guitar rifts so distinct that they could only be of Brooks and Dunn, confirmed by the lyrics, “She blew through the door like TNT. Put her hand on her hip and point a finger at me. Said: I’m a whiskey drinkin’, cowboy chasin’, helluva time. I like Kenny, Keith, Allan and Patsy Cline. I’m a full grown, queen bee, lookin’ for honey. Ha-ooh-hoo! aw, play somethin’ country!”

Thus the results of arranging your iTunes catalog by artist when your professor’s name begins with “Bro”.

Most are wondering what the heck Brooks & Dunn has to do with the nature of Narrative Criticism. And some of you are just wondering why the heck I have a country song mixed into my playlist. They really do have something to do with each other. No, really! This is not just a bad excuse for twang mixed in with Brownie Mary, Morcheeba, Jack Johnson, Depeche Mode, Bud Powell and the Dub Pistols.

One of the many components of narrative criticism is the concept of various narrative bits having purpose in some composed bit of literature. In other words, the plot actually means something and it is placed there, right there, specifically, with purpose. The characters are there for a reason, just as they are presented. The woman sits, spinning in the corner, right when she does, right where she does, just because she is meant to do so in that time, place and part of the story. Same could be said of the whiskey drinking, cowboy chasing, hell of a time so gracefully described with such eloquence by B&D.

Now, who decides all of that can be rather difficult to understand – a bit like holding wet, melting jello. Is it the author who decides the meaning? How about the deliverer of the story – the narrator? Or maybe the hearer gets to throw his or her two cents in, bringing experience and preconceptions and all of humanity to his or her understanding? Certainly the Queen Bees of Country have an appreciation for storming a bar that I would not (although I may be able to draw some parallel to arriving at a retro rewind dance party but it may depend on the musical sub genre and the tightness of my vinyl pants…).

Complicate matters by the literary breakdown of such things as plot (a woman who loves country?), theme (the honkytonk lifestyle?), style (impassioned), figures of speech (yes, “hell of a time” does get around), symbolism (Queen Bee), motifs (best I can do here is neon beer lights… sorry), characterizations (yes, big hair), repetition (I think she wants them to play something country but I cannot be sure), point of view (honestly, you have to ask?), foreshadowing (depending on preconceptions and or theme I might suggest…), speed of time in narrative (they did say TNT…) and all the rest of the goodies that make the literary types do a happy dance in their dreams, their pencils twirling across multi coloured pieces of paper that miraculously turn into origami birds flying across a sea to depict the freedom of the written word. (Somewhere MC Echer is delighted.)

All this is delightful when deconstructing some meaning in The Notebook. But when it comes to a text so great as The Word, we run the risk of getting it all wrong. And everyone knows when we get it wrong in religion. It leads to war.

Not to add any undue pressure to my already confused, stressed out and hazy classmates, but get the interpretation of the Bible wrong and you will start a war. As Christians, we generally consider this to be a bad thing.

Machiavelli would be so disappointed.

After years of batting Hermeneutics around like a cat toy, because, you know, playing with toys is grounds for sound academic conclusions, I have decided that the best approach is to tear apart the Bible in a way that considers ALL appropriate criticisms to that given bit of text; consider the genres, the history, the socio economic influences, purposes, intentions, messages, meanings, symbolism and all the rest as appropriate to what you have at hand (or in this case, eye).

In other words, read it.

Image by Roman Diaz

Revisionist Theology

Many folks don't know xkcd well. Here's to the cult phenomenon of stick figures.

I shall write, but only cause he made me

When you are a blogger, as in, one who blogs for fun (in my case, under several pseudonyms), what happens when a professor of yours turns to you and says “You will be graded upon your weekly blog"?

Sorry Doc, but you just took the fun out of my fun palace!

This little number will probably not count as it covers not the topic at hand. For this I am grateful as I suspect he is an articulate man of grammar, language and precision. Of course, these said skills are in Hebrew. But I imagine some of that seeps out into the English language as well.

I must however admit that I was not looking forward to this gentleman’s class. Let me be clear that I am excited about the class content. I simply was not excited about him. I know you are dying to know exactly why.

Okay fine, I will tell you.

But only because you begged.

Preconceptions are lame things, especially in Biblical interpretation. When we bring something to the text and read into it what may or may not be there, we kinda risk missing the whole point of the author. I admit that I did this with his syllabus. The thing reads like a legal contract, establishing the grounds upon which we will proceed academically in the classroom, the agreements made between professor and student in this arrangement we call a learning atmosphere. This approach made me think this man was either a lawyer (or of a family of them) or a guy with a chip on his shoulder so big that it made him angry and forced him to take out his insecurities on the rest of us poor grad students with broken tipped pencils and loose leaf paper as spiral notebooks are a splurge on a grad-student budget.

I am not sure which is worse, lawyer or angry lawyer-like guy.

This is why I was so surprised to hear at lunch that this guy is actually liked. Really really liked.

This is also why I was absolutely not surprised to hear that I just entered into the most difficult class available but that I should be fine so long as I do what I am told. *staring blankly* Me. Do what I am told. That’s a funny one. This was obviously said by one who does no know me very well.

That all said, the Doc has a great sense of humour, appears to either have some theatrical passions or is the youngest in his family, is indeed articulate, thorough and most certainly passionate. All these traits I admire and I have a positive attitude towards my future learning experience with him. For the record, I say this earnestly and not just because he will likely read this within the next couple of days.

You know, just so long as he isn’t REALLY a lawyer.

Dis-orientation

When one becomes oriented you hope they have a sense of where they are on a map, in a project or among a new group. They are no longer dizzy, lost, nor alone. When oriented, you become in tune with your surroundings and with how things work. I am reminded of a time when practicing search and rescue techniques, I was dumped into the middle of a great forest (also known as a local park – the kids playground was 100 yards off to the west). Left blindfolded, at night, without a moon, but with a compass, a bottle of water and beef jerky I was to practice using senses and skill to find my way. This would not have been an issue had I known I was in the park with said playground 100 yards off to said east, had I not been driven for two hours, had I had some light, and had it not been raining in a sleeting kind of way. You know, had I been in

Of course, as one may become orientated one may also become disoriented. Disorientation happens when one becomes confused about, well, frankly, anything. Yes, anything. A child whose mother says “No, you may not have the Hanna Montana mini BMW that has a V-8, custom paint job, leather interior, specialized cup holders and pull down mirrors complete with Hanna Montana makeup built ins and a pair of matching pink Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses” is often disoriented when her expectations were crushed by her parental unit.

Then there is the ACT of orienting – when one, or many ones, gather together to yank you out of your confused, lost, disoriented state, sit you down and explain things to you and show you stuff. This act is designed, in addition to helping you become oriented, to calm the nerves, and hopefully when done well, to help you feel welcome.

As such, I was recently oriented. Graduate schools are interesting places when you have not attended a level of really really higher learning. (I use two reallys here as “higher learning” usually applies to “college” so really really higher seems appropriate…) In really really higher learning your parents are not there to sign away their retirement in tuition, board, a new car, and your custom vintage Smurf comforter you have to have because it is just SO COOL. In higher higher learning it is you signing away your paychecks for the next 20+ years so you can have ramen noodles, free wi fi and a vintage bicycle in not-so-mint condition and your kids, should you have any, hear that they cannot have a Hanna Montana mini BMW with which to play.

This changes things, especially for those who are new to the game.

You are probably wondering just how my orientation went. So a few thoughts…

1. I survived.
   
2. I met some groovy folks.


3. I discovered that I really really want a set of those Hanna Montana custom make up mirrors built into my vehicle but tricked out with leather and stocked with MAC and a variety of other fine makeup purveyors.

Welcome to the new class my friends. It’s a long ride.

Athiest Day

A delightful little ditty provided by my step grandmother. Lovely little gem!

FLORIDA COURT SETS ATHEIST HOLY DAY!

In Florida, an atheist created a case against the upcoming Easter and Passover holy days. He hired an attorney to bring a discrimination case against Christians, Jews and observances of their holy days. The argument was that it was unfair that atheists had no such recognized days. The case was brought before a judge. After listening to the passionate presentation by the lawyer, the judge banged his gavel declaring, "Case dismissed!"

The lawyer immediately stood objecting to the ruling saying, "Your honor, how can you possibly dismiss this case? The Christians have Christmas, Easter and others. The Jews have Passover, Yom Kippur and Hanukkah, yet my client and all other atheists have no such holidays." The judge leaned forward in his chair saying, "But you do. Your client, counsel, is woefully ignorant." The lawyer said, "Your Honor, we are unaware of any special observance or holiday for atheists."

The judge said, "The calendar says April 1st is April Fools Day. Psalm 14:1 states, 'The fool says in his heart, there is no God.'
Thus, it is the opinion of this court, that if your client says there is no God, then he is a fool. Therefore, April 1st is his day. Court is adjourned.