Today someone asked how the job is going, two years into the deanship. If it’s between “10. The best job ever;” or, “6. I’d rather shoot my eye out with a nail gun;” and “3. I’m recommending my worst enemy for this job;” I’d say most of the time it’s a “7. It’s a challenge.”
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I grew up among ethnic pietistic Baptists who tended to emphasize the emotional and personal aspects of religion over against the liturgical, Traditional, and ecumenical. It was a simple faith that retains enough charm so as not to be off-putting, though I can only take it in small doses nowadays. While conservative in its theological orientation it was not fundamentalist, but there was enough of an influence from the popular fundamentalist milieu and networks so as to leave me with an ability to recognize the language and mentality when I came across it.
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I’m not a morning person, and, I’m a glass-half-full kind of person. I long for Lent, a season that fits my demeanor best. Perky bubbly morning persons drive me crazy. Lately I seem to be surrounded by them and their kin. To my morning sunshine friends I offer “The Cynics Guide to Life” as a corrective to a saccharine frame of mind with a plea to please, let me have my third cup of coffee before telling me all about your pet’s unique personality and fascinating interior life.
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Scottish mystic Henry Scougal (1650-1678), author of the spiritual classic The Life God in the Soul of Man included the following prayer in that work:
“Good God! What a mighty felicity this is to which we are called! How graciously hast thou joined our duty and happiness together, and prescribed that for our work the performance whereof is a great reward!”
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I met up with some old friends recently, who’d brought along some of their friends I appreciated meeting. It didn’t take long to get to that awkward point in the conversation that follows the “What do you do for a living?” Well, maybe not awkward for most jobs, but typically for the ones I’ve held (funeral home manager, local church clergy, and now seminary professor). At least people clean up their language.
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Bad ideas are like bad pennies. Despite my promise to self to have put the issue of postmodernism (pomo) to bed with “Galindo’s Last Postmodern Rant” the concept remains one of those “ideas people fall in love with.” Here’s a piece by Andre Gucksmann on pomo and the current financial crisis from City Journal, titled “The Postmodern Financial Crisis.” Here’s an excerpt:
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It’s been an interesting academic year for conversations about educational matters. Between an online course on models of education, diving into curriculum assessment at the seminary, teaching a course on philosophy of education, consultations with faculty and school administrators about curriculum and learning, leading several teacher workshops, attending a conference for academic deans, and engaging in conversations with parents about their children’s education, three things at least are evident:
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On a few occasions I’ve engaged in the exercise of writing my own obituary or epitath. The exercise was prompted in seminars or workshops, and on one occasion as part of my orientation as a hospice chaplain. Kierkegaard said “Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” That’s helpful to keep in mind. Which reminds me of the story about a priest, a rabbi, and a minister…
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