It’s unfortunate how deeply and how quickly AI has changed the landscape of teaching. It’s easier to use and necessary to look for when interacting with student work. And it’s something that we’re all still learning about but with hard lines already drawn (often for good reasons).
Alan Jacobs, an author and humanities professor at Baylor, recently posted a piece “picking apart” another piece by Ted Gioia. Gioia’s piece is a reflection on his time at Oxford; Jacobs is a reflection on the practicality of what Gioia seems to be suggesting as a way forward. It’s a nice “dialogue”. Both pieces are definitely worth your time. You can find Jacobs’s piece here (with Gioia’s piece linked therein).
We introduce Anselm and his version of the ontological argument for God’s existence relatively early in our junior Bible class. Sometimes it clicks, sometimes it doesn’t; we consider it as much because it was the first of its kind as much as anything else.
I mention that because Richard Beck recently posted a passage, really a prayer, from Anselm’s Proslogion. It’s a beautiful passage, very much like an Old Testament psalm. It reads like some of Augustine’s writings in Confessions, wonderfully holding together apparent contradictions in order to prove a greater, full point. You can find the longer piece here, but here’s the closing snippet:
Teach me to seek you, and when I seek you show yourself to me, for I cannot seek you unless you teach me, nor can I find you unless you show yourself to me. Let me seek you in desiring you and desire you in seeking you, find you in loving you and love you in finding you.
Hulu just dropped the fourth-season trailer for The Bear, the show that makes your blood pressure sky-rocket just by mentioning it. As good as it was, I felt like the show’s third season was holding back a little bit, so I’m interested to see where this season goes. The dialogue, with its many hints about the philosophy of a restaurant, is quite promising.
This morning’s Gospel reading includes one of those “tricky”passages from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount about prayer. From biblegateway.com:
7 “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.8 For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened.9 Or which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone?10 Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent?11 If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!
The “tricky” part comes in with the sense that Jesus speaks in an unqualified tone: will, will, and will. He then makes a comparison to people, who are “evil” and yet know how to give good gifts. Then He points his listeners (and us) to the Father who gives every good thing.
(Interestingly enough, in the Sermon on the Plain in Luke’s Gospel, the Father’s giving of the Holy Spirit is how this moment comes to a head.)
Chip Dodd, counselor/author/podcaster takes this moment and uses it when he talks about human relationships: about what causes us to stop asking for what we need. If I remember correctly, he brings it up in the context of codependency, where some level of healthy request is always off limits, always beyond the bounds of the possible. And that moment of no longer asking, no longer seeking, no longer knocking is a sad and sobering sign of something being deeply wrong.
I do think that we are to ask, seek, and knock for what the Father has for us. And I do think that the continuous nature of those actions can change us, can shape us and purify us. Ultimately we are reminded that God is good Himself and that He is our treasure and that we must rely on Him. It is because of that, because of who He is, that we can keep asking and seeking and knocking.
This past Sunday, many churches celebrated Mother’s Day. Other churches also commemorated “Good Shepherd Sunday,” which is celebrated every fourth Sunday of Easter. The key text for the day is John 10, where Jesus says:
11 “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.12 The hired hand is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep. So when he sees the wolf coming, he abandons the sheep and runs away. Then the wolf attacks the flock and scatters it.13 The man runs away because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep.
14 “I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me—15 just as the Father knows me and I know the Father—and I lay down my life for the sheep.
I really like what Bishop Erik Varden had to say concerning the day. He writes of the difference between the “Sunday school picture” of Jesus as the Good Shepherd and what he’s come to understand the reality to be. From his blog:
Only much later, when I started studying the Bible — and discovered what a fascinating, magnificent book it is — did I realise that the shepherd in fact stands for something rather different. Of course, ancient Israel was nomadic. People did not settle in one place. They moved around seeking favourable conditions for themselves and their flocks, which were their livelihood. A shepherd was exposed to risks: inhospitable nature, wild animals, bandits. The image par excellence of the Old Testament shepherd is David.
He goes on to say:
The Christ-image in the parable of the shepherd does not suggest a chilled hippie pursuing an alternative lifestyle. It suggests a profile of clear strategy, courage, and a spirit of sacrifice, qualities we look for in a trustworthy leader.
When we turn to the Gospel we have just read, we find that it’s about trust above all. ‘My sheep hear my voice’, says the Lord: ‘I know them, and they follow me.’
Clear strategy, courage, a spirit of sacrifice, trust. All true of Jesus, and all possible (on some level or another) for us, too. Definitely a good reminder as the Easter season continues.
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Well, the first month of year 49 has been anything but boring. It started with a couple of birthdays in the neighborhood coupled with various Easter things. Then I caught a cold (which is always worse than it sounds and yet not). Before I knew it, the calendar turned to May, which brings the end of the school year (which is always early for me since I teach seniors). Now that the cold is gone, I’m trying to get back to a normal rhythm, which is a good challenge. I’m curious to see what year 49 brings. It’s just getting started, which is a sobering and exciting thought.
So far, summer movie season has been something of a slow burn for me. Thunderbolts* really was an enjoyable movie, was a perfect picture of an underdog story, really. The tone and scope were right, the humor was well-balanced thanks to the honest weight of the various struggles present in the story. And Florence Pugh was amazing. But there’s a bit more of a break before Mission Impossible revs things up again. Thankfully, DC and Warner Brothers dropped the final full trailer for this July’s Superman. Check it out.
This trailer does a great job fleshing out the previous teaser without connecting too many (if any) dots. Lois already knowing Clark’s secret is interesting. The moments with the Kents are great (and way more “down to earth” than we’ve seen in previous versions of the story). It does look like James Gunn is trying to pack in a lot (all those other heroes), but hopefully that speaks to a more fully realized world than it does to throwaway characters and potential spin-offs.
This really is the movie I’m looking forward to most this summer. The scope and sound look (and feel) appropriately amazing. And it seems fresh enough that it can blaze its own trail without being beholden to previous tellings of the story. “Hey, buddy. Eyes up here” indeed. Up, up, and away.
We’re just over three months into the “Desert Fathers in a Year” series. So far, my favorite saying comes from the section on hesychia, which relates to the idea of deep peace. The saying comes from Abba Arsenius:
Abba Mark said to Abba Arsenius, ‘Why do you run away from us?’ The elder said to him, ‘God knows that I love you, but I cannot be with God and with people. The thousands and ten thousands above have one will, but people have many wills, so I cannot forsake God and come among people.’ (from Wortley’s systematic collection)
I imagine this is the kind of quote that most of us can relate to. You step out of the door and suddenly find yourself on the receiving end of the demands of many (neighbors, students, co-workers, church leaders, you name it). And that is not an easy place to be, definitely a difficult place to nurture the “purity of heart that wills one thing.”
I love the wording of the initial question: running away. We can all likely imagine ourselves doing the same. And I love Arsenius’s heartfelt response: you know that I love you.
It does make me wonder if there is a way to be with others and still be with God. I suppose worship is a key way to nurture that reality. But even then we may find ourselves demanding something from others (or having a demand placed on us). I still think there’s something significant about the placement of Jesus’ pronouncement in Matthew 18 that when two or three agree in his name that he will be there being right after difficult words about sin and stumbling in the church . . . that such an agreement is hard won and precious. It’s not easy to know what to ask for when others are involved in the asking, too. Everyone, it turns out, brings their own will to the table.
We’re getting closer to the July release of the new Superman movie. The team behind the movie released an extended look at the movie that adds more to the Krypto “take me home” scene. Krypto is definitely a dog . . . and the movie continues to look amazing.
And just like that, spring break has come to an end. For all intents and purposes, the turn of the calendar from Saturday to Sunday brings with it a change in disposition, of direction, when conversations and thoughts turn in earnest to the fourth quarter of the school year.
It’s been a good break, with the first week being particularly productive and the second week being a little more restful and reflective. The “big read” for the break was Andrew Root’s Evangelism in an Age of Despair. I’ve been following Root’s thinking for a good while now (probably through 10 to 12 books) and have been greatly challenged and encouraged by his “spin” on life in “a secular age” (much of his work has been connected with Charles Taylor’s book that bears that name). The general premise is that God meets us in our sorrows. that Jesus (the Man of Sorrows) brings consolation to us (and therefore we are called to bring it to one another). There’s more to it than that (and he uses a historical trail that starts with Michel de Montaigne as a thread), but that’s enough for now.
Beyond that, I also finished a much shorter book, Silence and Honey Cakes by Rowan Williams. The book is about the sayings of the monks and nuns of the desert, so it tracks nicely with the “Desert Fathers in a Year” podcast that I started following back on January 1st. The book is a good summary of some major things of the desert literature. The chapters on feeling and staying were wonderfully time for me, too. From here, I turn my attention to Soul Making by Alan Jones, which also speaks of “the desert way of spirituality.” I’m also about halfway through Curt Thompson’s Anatomy of the Soul. I finally dipped my toe into Justin Whitmel Earley’s Made for People podcast, which started up just over a month ago. Thompson was the guest in the first episode that I listened to, and it was brilliant. Funny enough, I’ve tried reading Thompson before but to no avail. This book (and Thompson’s podcast) are a good way to check out an interesting (and Christian) approach to the soul and neuroscience.
The break was a bit dry cinematically. I did watch 28 Days Later at the beginning of break with the neighbors. The movie is straight out of 2002, and every moment on the screen feels like it. It was fun (?) seeing Christopher Eccleston have a role in the movie (which predates his one-season run as The Doctor). I did take a couple of hours to watch the final Bridget Jones movie on Peacock, which was both funny and sad (which is the way of things). I did end up seeing two movies in the theater: Black Bag starring Blanchett and Fassbender and then Novocaine. Black Bag was a “spy on the spies” story that was wonderfully small and twisty. Novocaine was about a guy who cannot feel pain and who goes to extreme lengths to save the woman he loves. It was good, too, though I found myself wishing the movie had a narrator to give things a little more depth (which Mickey 17 had, which I saw just as break started).
We’ve got three weeks from now until Easter Sunday. It’s always weird to start something new so near then end (like the final quarter of a school year), but that’s the way of it. On some level, this moment in time makes a good pivot point for moving from Lent to Easter. I’ve been listening to some older Poco a Poco podcasts. Their Lent series from 2023 has so far moved from the desert temptations of Jesus to His transfiguration and most recently to His conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well. All pictures of Jesus having specific moments that help us better understand our own journey with Jesus.
Erik Varden just posted a homily he gave to some Benedictine nuns at the end of a retreat, when they take time to renew their vows. He says this about the ascetic life (of which Lent is a picture). I’ll bold the line I like the most:
The purpose of asceticism is not to combat nature, but to order it in view of flourishing and fruitfulness.
Such a project calls for perseverance, which at times spells combat.
‘Your fidelity’, says the Lord, ‘is like a morning cloud, like the dew that quickly disappears.’ If we surrender to the pursuit of facile, passing preferences, this is how it is.
We must root ourselves, therefore, like trees, like majestic Breton beeches, in order that our nurtured faithfulness will correspond to God’s, as vast as the sea.
This indeed is the foundation of all spiritual life: the interaction of God’s fidelity with ours.
The Good News, as Paul wrote in his second letter to Timothy, is that regardless of our faithfulness, He remains faithful because He cannot disown Himself (2 Timothy 2:13). We see the faithfulness of Jesus in desert and on the mountain and at the well just like we can see His faithfulness in our own lives, which is a great blessing.
Finally: a song. I was reminded recently of this great song by Andy Gullahorn that captures something good about this and every moment if we (at least on good days) have the eyes to see it.
I have a bit of an odd relationship with breaks from school. I love breaks as much as the next teacher, but from almost the beginning I have had difficulty being at ease with the time. That’s part of why I spent my first decade teaching taking up a summer school class- unstructured time isn’t easy for me. I often travel fall break, which is wonderful. But I usually stay “close to home” for spring break (which is odd because it’s the break when every seems to travel).
So I do my best to establish some kind of routine, one that is similar to a work routine while allowing for a bit more freedom. That means going to the gym or taking a walk up into the valley each morning followed by breakfast downtown and some time at the state library. Then I usually grab some lunch and head home until later in the afternoon, when I’ll often head downtown again to grab a drink at Starbucks to read before heading home for dinner, tv, and some time in the neighborhood.
I also try to schedule more “adult responsibility” stuff for breaks. This break, I’ve gotten most of it done in the first week, which is great. Oil change for the car, dermatologist visit, new windshield wipers, car safety check. All done this week, along with getting grades done and doing some basic planning for the fourth quarter. Next week will probably involve a couple of afternoons in the classroom getting ready for the fourth quarter (finalizing handouts and slides), and that’s okay. I’ll have a little more time (and less internal pressure) with this week’s appointments all taken care of.
This morning after the safety check, I made my way to Longs Drugs to gather some items for a birthday gift. As I pulled into the parking structure, I was amazed by how empty it was. It wasn’t quite 9 AM, so stores were still closed and the structure mostly empty. It was a nice reminder of the blessing of a break, and it made me more hopeful for the week to come.
We’re just over three months into the “Desert Fathers in a Year” series. So far, my favorite saying comes from the section on hesychia, which relates to the idea of deep peace. The saying comes from Abba Arsenius:
Beyond that, I also finished a much shorter book, Silence and Honey Cakes by Rowan Williams. The book is about the sayings of the monks and nuns of the desert, so it tracks nicely with the “Desert Fathers in a Year” podcast that I started following back on January 1st. The book is a good summary of some major things of the desert literature. The chapters on feeling and staying were wonderfully time for me, too. From here, I turn my attention to Soul Making by Alan Jones, which also speaks of “the desert way of spirituality.” I’m also about halfway through Curt Thompson’s Anatomy of the Soul. I finally dipped my toe into Justin Whitmel Earley’s Made for People podcast, which started up just over a month ago. Thompson was the guest in the first episode that I listened to, and it was brilliant. Funny enough, I’ve tried reading Thompson before but to no avail. This book (and Thompson’s podcast) are a good way to check out an interesting (and Christian) approach to the soul and neuroscience.
Space Enough, and Time 