Merry Christmas one and all! Yes, I realize it is the 29th, but Christmas is still upon us, lest we forget the popular tune that reminds us repeatedly of the 12 Days belonging to Christmas. [A Side Note: I always found the gifts to be somewhat strange. As I am enticed by bright, shiny objects, the '5 golden rings' always excited me. Men, take note! What I would do with five golden rings, I don't know...perhaps wear one on each of my fingers? But I have always been mystified by the gifts for people: 10 Lords 'a Leaping, 9 Ladies dancing, etc. Seems a little extravagant, if you ask me, although I can't deny the lure of having 10 Lords at my disposal, leaping or otherwise...]
Christmas in the year of our Lord 2005 was most perplexing, indeed. Not only was it one of my busiest Christmases on record (hence the lack of blog entries), but it also produced numerous philosophical quandries.
My Christmas vacation began, as many archetypal journies do, with an trip to my homeland. As the plane touched down on the runway, my Spider Sense told me I was about to become locked in a tempestuous whirlpool of surreality. A visit to my hometown in the Panhandle will forever be a proverbial rest-stop on the Road to Wackiness. A wise man once said, "you can never go home again," and as much as I hate to put much creedence in oft-quoted, quasi-philosophical "wisdom," these words continue to ring true each time I visit home
Going home this Christmas was a lesson in learning to let go. If you have read my blog entry titled, "Homeward Bound-less," then you already know that my previous trip home this semster did not live up to any of my pre-conceived expectations. I thought my Yule Tide journey as "Meredith's Homecoming: Part Deux," except this time, the sequal was better than the original. My life has changed drastically in the four months I have lived in Austin, but change is universal and unilateral; as I have evolved during this past semester, so have my friends and family.
I realized that it is time to let go of old habits, bad feelings, and unrequited love. I realized that my place will always be with my family, regardless of the ebb and flow of my friendships and relationships with others. I am fortunate to be blessed with firm foundation of supporters who ceaselessely encourage me as I trudge through seminary. Their love both humbles and inspires me. When I am drowning in a sea of self-doubt, I pray that the memory of kind, encouraging words from my family, friends, and church, will buoy me to the surface.
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Friday, December 16, 2005
Free at last, free at last
Hallelujah and Praise Jesus- Finals are over! After our last final this morning, we celebrated in our usual demeanor: by heading over to our beloved Crown & Anchor and drinking ourselves into a stupor. Nothing erases the memory of arduous finals like a good drinking binge with dear friends. Of course, halfway through our merriment we realized that our “celebrating” at the Crown was not really anything out of the ordinary, since we frequent the Crown on a near-daily basis.
[Note: some of the bartenders at the Crown actually know my name! You know how long it’s been since I’ve been to a restaurant where they new my name? Ok, in truth, not long, since I moved to Austin from a small town. I used to go to this burger joint in Canyon called Hil’s Burgers on a weekly basis, and Hil knew my name and even gave me extra curly fries. I’m not at that “extra curly fries” level at the Crown, but maybe someday…it’s a goal worth striving for.]
What is more amazing is that my first semester of seminary is over. My first fucking semester! I have mornings when I still wake up and cannot believe that I live in fucking Austin and attend the Presbyterian Seminary here. As one who does not always adjust well to change, I am both relieved and saddened to be done with classes. The semester went by at a blazing pace and I wonder if this is indicative to the rest of my seminary career. If school continues to race along at this breakneck speed, graduation will soon be on the horizon. Then what? As I discern my call here at school, I still find it somewhat mystifying as to what God’s purpose is for me. I have faith that I am being led to fulfill some “destiny,” for lack of a better term, but I remain clueless to what that “destiny” may be.
Tonight as I type this blog, I find it alien that I do not have classwork hanging over my head like the sword of Damocles. Not that I was Hermione Granger this semester (my approach to school, was, admittedly, lackadaisical), but I did (occasionally) study. Tonight, there are no more finals, no more John Calvin or Karl Barth to read, no theology terms to memorize. My mind is restless without the chaos of school; the chaos of school stresses-out my mind. Such is the dichotomy of Meredith...
[Note: some of the bartenders at the Crown actually know my name! You know how long it’s been since I’ve been to a restaurant where they new my name? Ok, in truth, not long, since I moved to Austin from a small town. I used to go to this burger joint in Canyon called Hil’s Burgers on a weekly basis, and Hil knew my name and even gave me extra curly fries. I’m not at that “extra curly fries” level at the Crown, but maybe someday…it’s a goal worth striving for.]
What is more amazing is that my first semester of seminary is over. My first fucking semester! I have mornings when I still wake up and cannot believe that I live in fucking Austin and attend the Presbyterian Seminary here. As one who does not always adjust well to change, I am both relieved and saddened to be done with classes. The semester went by at a blazing pace and I wonder if this is indicative to the rest of my seminary career. If school continues to race along at this breakneck speed, graduation will soon be on the horizon. Then what? As I discern my call here at school, I still find it somewhat mystifying as to what God’s purpose is for me. I have faith that I am being led to fulfill some “destiny,” for lack of a better term, but I remain clueless to what that “destiny” may be.
Tonight as I type this blog, I find it alien that I do not have classwork hanging over my head like the sword of Damocles. Not that I was Hermione Granger this semester (my approach to school, was, admittedly, lackadaisical), but I did (occasionally) study. Tonight, there are no more finals, no more John Calvin or Karl Barth to read, no theology terms to memorize. My mind is restless without the chaos of school; the chaos of school stresses-out my mind. Such is the dichotomy of Meredith...
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
And then there was one...
Three, count ‘em, three finals down and only one more remains!
My theology final this morning was fairly successful. I learned that much can be accomplished if you drink enough coffee to kill a lab rat and consume multiple Krispy Kreme donuts. The sugar and caffeine alone were enough to let my mind race for approximately 85% of my test this morning. I was able to pull 11 ¼ pages (double-spaced) of theological “knowledge” out of my ass, which, I must admit, is a new Meredith record.
My exam was coherent and, at times, slightly humorous. I attempted to weave together sound theological thought with levity, although there was probably more levity than brevity, if you understand my meaning. If Cindy Rigby is going to have to grade a million Systematic Theology I exams, then the least I can do is make sure my test is enjoyable for her to read. Various examples I used to illustrate complex theological concepts include, but are not limited to: references to Zeppo of the Marx brothers, Spiderman, the theology of Meredith as a 5 year-old, a quote from my mother, and several vague references to the book of Ecclesiastes.
If there is one thing I enjoy doing, it is pontificating. If there is anything else I could possibly enjoy more than pontificating, then it is using eclectic examples to illustrate a point.
One more hurdle awaits: the dreaded history final. Kyrie Eleison!
My theology final this morning was fairly successful. I learned that much can be accomplished if you drink enough coffee to kill a lab rat and consume multiple Krispy Kreme donuts. The sugar and caffeine alone were enough to let my mind race for approximately 85% of my test this morning. I was able to pull 11 ¼ pages (double-spaced) of theological “knowledge” out of my ass, which, I must admit, is a new Meredith record.
My exam was coherent and, at times, slightly humorous. I attempted to weave together sound theological thought with levity, although there was probably more levity than brevity, if you understand my meaning. If Cindy Rigby is going to have to grade a million Systematic Theology I exams, then the least I can do is make sure my test is enjoyable for her to read. Various examples I used to illustrate complex theological concepts include, but are not limited to: references to Zeppo of the Marx brothers, Spiderman, the theology of Meredith as a 5 year-old, a quote from my mother, and several vague references to the book of Ecclesiastes.
If there is one thing I enjoy doing, it is pontificating. If there is anything else I could possibly enjoy more than pontificating, then it is using eclectic examples to illustrate a point.
One more hurdle awaits: the dreaded history final. Kyrie Eleison!
Friday, December 09, 2005
Sheer Randomness
No classes this week: the school calls it “Reading Week,” which, in theory, is the week dedicated to reading and writing papers before finals begin next week. I wish that I could admit proudly that the week was spent in disciplined, dedicated, and diligent study, but, as result of this lack of structure, I managed to piss all of my time away. Oh sure, I did do some work on my damn worship paper, as well as some minimal studying for various and sundry classes, but it is now early Saturday morning and I have very little to show for my week of theoretical “work.”
However, also in true Meredith fashion, this week was very much an exercise in what I would call “surreality.” Some of the randomness that occurred:
* It was, as my mother put it, “Colder than a well-digger’s ass” here in Austin this week. Cold! In Austin! I moved away from the Panhandle to escape bullshit cold weather, not be enveloped in it! And, to add further insult to injury, I left most of my sweaters and what-not at home. [Note: why is that well-diggers have cold asses? Do they not wear long-underwear or other protection that would act as a barrier against the elements? Poor diggers of wells!]
* I got to hold a baby the other day. Happiness is holding a tiny-squirmy infant, if you ignore that funky baby smell.
* I learned how to knit! I can finally cross it off the list of “Stuff I want to learn before I die.” Knitting is hard, harder than crochet, in my opinion, but I find it appeals to my anal-retentative side (the one that earlier this week, alphabetized my CD’s). I am attempting to make a scarf…mostly, my “scarf” looks like severely mutated rectangle, but I am slowly learning the subtle craft of knitting. Patience, patience!
* I made fudge. Although making fudge may not, at first glance, seem random, you must understand that I do not consider myself much of a cook. Oh, I have a basic understanding of the culinary arts, but I am more an “eater” than a “cooker.” The very fact that I am a certified fudge artisan is pretty random.
* Hung out with friends a lot more than usual. I learned much about my peers this week and I was reminded constantly of how blessed I am to be amongst such wonderful people here at school. Awww….group hug!
* The other morning, I was cold and made homemade cranberry sauce and ate all of it in one sitting. Cranberries kick ass! Plus, cooking the cranberries on the stove heated my kitchen and my window to the outside world was became fogged up with residual steam from the stove. Nothing is cozier than fogged-up windows…(heh- reminds me a little of making out in cars, which, I may add, I have not done in quite a long time)
* Last Saturday, our school played against the Episcopalians in an annual football game we call “The Polity Bowl.” The Presbyterians were victorious- hurrah! Afterwards, we celebrated with a barbeque at school. In an unprecedented turn of events, the school even purchased a keg of Shiner Bock! I have never in my life attended an event with a school-sanctioned keg. The greatest beer in the world, my friend, is the beer you do not have to pay for!
However, also in true Meredith fashion, this week was very much an exercise in what I would call “surreality.” Some of the randomness that occurred:
* It was, as my mother put it, “Colder than a well-digger’s ass” here in Austin this week. Cold! In Austin! I moved away from the Panhandle to escape bullshit cold weather, not be enveloped in it! And, to add further insult to injury, I left most of my sweaters and what-not at home. [Note: why is that well-diggers have cold asses? Do they not wear long-underwear or other protection that would act as a barrier against the elements? Poor diggers of wells!]
* I got to hold a baby the other day. Happiness is holding a tiny-squirmy infant, if you ignore that funky baby smell.
* I learned how to knit! I can finally cross it off the list of “Stuff I want to learn before I die.” Knitting is hard, harder than crochet, in my opinion, but I find it appeals to my anal-retentative side (the one that earlier this week, alphabetized my CD’s). I am attempting to make a scarf…mostly, my “scarf” looks like severely mutated rectangle, but I am slowly learning the subtle craft of knitting. Patience, patience!
* I made fudge. Although making fudge may not, at first glance, seem random, you must understand that I do not consider myself much of a cook. Oh, I have a basic understanding of the culinary arts, but I am more an “eater” than a “cooker.” The very fact that I am a certified fudge artisan is pretty random.
* Hung out with friends a lot more than usual. I learned much about my peers this week and I was reminded constantly of how blessed I am to be amongst such wonderful people here at school. Awww….group hug!
* The other morning, I was cold and made homemade cranberry sauce and ate all of it in one sitting. Cranberries kick ass! Plus, cooking the cranberries on the stove heated my kitchen and my window to the outside world was became fogged up with residual steam from the stove. Nothing is cozier than fogged-up windows…(heh- reminds me a little of making out in cars, which, I may add, I have not done in quite a long time)
* Last Saturday, our school played against the Episcopalians in an annual football game we call “The Polity Bowl.” The Presbyterians were victorious- hurrah! Afterwards, we celebrated with a barbeque at school. In an unprecedented turn of events, the school even purchased a keg of Shiner Bock! I have never in my life attended an event with a school-sanctioned keg. The greatest beer in the world, my friend, is the beer you do not have to pay for!
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
I am a Rock
Words from the immortal Paul Simon:
A winter's day
In a deep and dark December
I am alone
Gazing from my window
To the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow
I am a rock
I am an island
I've built walls
A fortress deep and mighty
That none may penetrate
I have no need for friendship
Friendship causes pain
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain.
I am a rock
I am an island
Don't talk of love
Well, I've heard the word before
It's sleeping in my memory
I won't disturb the slumber
Of feelings that have died
If I'd never loved, I never would have cried
I am a rock
I am an island
I have my books
And my poetry to protect me
I am shielded in my armor
Hiding in my room
Safe within my womb
I touch no-one and no-one touches me
I am a rock
I am an island
And the rock feels no pain
And an island never cries
Today is cold. It is December and deep and dark here in Austin. I am alone, struggling to write this damn worship paper! My heart is surrounded by walls; I am a mighty fortress! O, that someone would come and break down my walls of solitude!
A winter's day
In a deep and dark December
I am alone
Gazing from my window
To the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow
I am a rock
I am an island
I've built walls
A fortress deep and mighty
That none may penetrate
I have no need for friendship
Friendship causes pain
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain.
I am a rock
I am an island
Don't talk of love
Well, I've heard the word before
It's sleeping in my memory
I won't disturb the slumber
Of feelings that have died
If I'd never loved, I never would have cried
I am a rock
I am an island
I have my books
And my poetry to protect me
I am shielded in my armor
Hiding in my room
Safe within my womb
I touch no-one and no-one touches me
I am a rock
I am an island
And the rock feels no pain
And an island never cries
Today is cold. It is December and deep and dark here in Austin. I am alone, struggling to write this damn worship paper! My heart is surrounded by walls; I am a mighty fortress! O, that someone would come and break down my walls of solitude!
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
I Must Confess...
The Days of Finals are Nigh! And, true to procrastinating fashion, I am attempting to cram a whole semester's worth of work into one week. Curse my rock and roll lifestyle!
So tonight, in an effort to avoid studying yet still remain productive, I reorganized my CD's so that they are all organized by genre and alphabetized by Artist's last name. [Yes, I too, have the capacity for far-reaching anal retentativeness] As I was going through my CD's, I realized that I own several that would be classified as somewhat embarrassing. In case I get hit by a truck sometime in the near future, I have decided to personally disclose said embarrassing CD's, just so that you have an explanation, rather than believe I am either crazy or totally lacking in musical taste.
Meredith's List of Embarrassing CD's:
Cherry Poppin’ Daddies Zoot Suit Riot- Purchased during the swing music revival of the late 1990’s. A decent CD, despite the vulgar band name.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer: The Album- This is the CD that is the soundtrack to the television show of which I was a loyal, diehard fan of. On the surface, it seems nerdy to own such a CD, but it has a nice collection of dark pop and Goth music.
Soundtrack, Fiddler on the Roof- It’s my favorite musical, so fuck off! “Sunrise, Sunset…”
Weird Al Yankovic Dare to be Stupid and Poodle Hat- Yes, I am girl who owns 2 Weird Al CD’s. I’ve even seen him in concert (and it was a freakin’ sweet show!) I am a nerd. I am the queen of nerds!
Kenny G At Last: the Duets Album- Ok, I used to work at a music store, and this one was a promo. I actually kind of like it…
Josh Groban- I have a confession: I, the quintessential music snob like Josh Groban. Nay, I LOVE Josh Groban! I own two of his CD’s and listening to him sing is the ultimate guilty pleasure.
And Last, but Not Least….
Backstreet Boys Millennium- I offer no explanation. But, to my defense, I bought it used, so the Backstreet Boys did not collect any royalties from me.
So there ya have it. Don’t judge me, because I know that you have Ace of Base The Sign hidden in the bottom of you sock drawer!
So tonight, in an effort to avoid studying yet still remain productive, I reorganized my CD's so that they are all organized by genre and alphabetized by Artist's last name. [Yes, I too, have the capacity for far-reaching anal retentativeness] As I was going through my CD's, I realized that I own several that would be classified as somewhat embarrassing. In case I get hit by a truck sometime in the near future, I have decided to personally disclose said embarrassing CD's, just so that you have an explanation, rather than believe I am either crazy or totally lacking in musical taste.
Meredith's List of Embarrassing CD's:
Cherry Poppin’ Daddies Zoot Suit Riot- Purchased during the swing music revival of the late 1990’s. A decent CD, despite the vulgar band name.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer: The Album- This is the CD that is the soundtrack to the television show of which I was a loyal, diehard fan of. On the surface, it seems nerdy to own such a CD, but it has a nice collection of dark pop and Goth music.
Soundtrack, Fiddler on the Roof- It’s my favorite musical, so fuck off! “Sunrise, Sunset…”
Weird Al Yankovic Dare to be Stupid and Poodle Hat- Yes, I am girl who owns 2 Weird Al CD’s. I’ve even seen him in concert (and it was a freakin’ sweet show!) I am a nerd. I am the queen of nerds!
Kenny G At Last: the Duets Album- Ok, I used to work at a music store, and this one was a promo. I actually kind of like it…
Josh Groban- I have a confession: I, the quintessential music snob like Josh Groban. Nay, I LOVE Josh Groban! I own two of his CD’s and listening to him sing is the ultimate guilty pleasure.
And Last, but Not Least….
Backstreet Boys Millennium- I offer no explanation. But, to my defense, I bought it used, so the Backstreet Boys did not collect any royalties from me.
So there ya have it. Don’t judge me, because I know that you have Ace of Base The Sign hidden in the bottom of you sock drawer!
Sunday, December 04, 2005
Pray to God, but Row to Shore
Holy shit- it’s December! Where in the name of all things good and holy did this semester go? I suppose time doth fly when you are having fun, but time also flies when life is shitty, crazy, joyful, melancholy…
We, like the flowers of the field, are temporal and transient. We grow and flourish and wither and perish according to the natural order of creation. However much we would like to “go out in a blaze of glory,” we die and the world remarkably continues to rotate on its axis. Like the wooden metronome on my great aunt’s piano, the life cycle continues its steady pulse. The pace may quicken or slacken, but the beats--the rhythm--of life are ever constant.
Though it is somewhat somber and is not often fodder for high-profit, charismatic Christian evangelists, the book of Ecclesiastes is my favorite book in the Bible. I find it profound and honest; Ecclesiastes is very much a “no bullshitting, check your ego at the door” portion of the Biblical witness. One of the more profound lines: “A generation goes and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever” [Ecclesiastes 1:4]. Our deaths do not impede the eternal creation and re-creation of the world. “Yea, though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death” [Psalm 23], we are also surrounded by new life being brought into the world daily.
The themes of Ecclesiastes resonate with the last line of T.S. Eliot’s poem, The Hollow Men: “This is the way the world ends- not with a bang, but with a whimper.” The writer of Ecclesiastes laments “Behold the tears of the oppressed, and they had no one to comfort them!” [Ecc. 4:1] Both are contrary to the doctrine of Eschatology (end-times) where Jesus will come back and assauge our suffering, wiping tears from every eye. Is it practical to hope for the world ending with a “bang,” that is, the triumph of Jesus (Good) over evil (Pain and Suffering) when we live in a world of moaning, wailing, whimpering for justice and freedom from oppression?
Christian Hope looks into the face of the trials of this world and decides that “we shall overcome.” We can direct our eyes to heaven and have hope that during the Eschaton, Jesus will triumph and inaugurate a new world in which all of the Children of God coexist peacefully. But we cannot look the future and ignore the present! Placing our faith in Jesus who will redeem the world does not mean we should ignore the world as we know it! People are hungry NOW, dammit! People are being oppressed NOW. We can hope and pray our smug little Christian hearts out and self-righteously attend our comfortable churches, but we need to remember that we are also responsible for bringing the Kingdom of God at hand. We will not succeed entirely, but we can positively impact the present.
As my mother says, “You gotta pray to God, but row to shore.” Faith without action is impotent. Faith coupled with action, theory coupled with praxis, will ensure this world ends, not with a whimper, but with a bang.
We, like the flowers of the field, are temporal and transient. We grow and flourish and wither and perish according to the natural order of creation. However much we would like to “go out in a blaze of glory,” we die and the world remarkably continues to rotate on its axis. Like the wooden metronome on my great aunt’s piano, the life cycle continues its steady pulse. The pace may quicken or slacken, but the beats--the rhythm--of life are ever constant.
Though it is somewhat somber and is not often fodder for high-profit, charismatic Christian evangelists, the book of Ecclesiastes is my favorite book in the Bible. I find it profound and honest; Ecclesiastes is very much a “no bullshitting, check your ego at the door” portion of the Biblical witness. One of the more profound lines: “A generation goes and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever” [Ecclesiastes 1:4]. Our deaths do not impede the eternal creation and re-creation of the world. “Yea, though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death” [Psalm 23], we are also surrounded by new life being brought into the world daily.
The themes of Ecclesiastes resonate with the last line of T.S. Eliot’s poem, The Hollow Men: “This is the way the world ends- not with a bang, but with a whimper.” The writer of Ecclesiastes laments “Behold the tears of the oppressed, and they had no one to comfort them!” [Ecc. 4:1] Both are contrary to the doctrine of Eschatology (end-times) where Jesus will come back and assauge our suffering, wiping tears from every eye. Is it practical to hope for the world ending with a “bang,” that is, the triumph of Jesus (Good) over evil (Pain and Suffering) when we live in a world of moaning, wailing, whimpering for justice and freedom from oppression?
Christian Hope looks into the face of the trials of this world and decides that “we shall overcome.” We can direct our eyes to heaven and have hope that during the Eschaton, Jesus will triumph and inaugurate a new world in which all of the Children of God coexist peacefully. But we cannot look the future and ignore the present! Placing our faith in Jesus who will redeem the world does not mean we should ignore the world as we know it! People are hungry NOW, dammit! People are being oppressed NOW. We can hope and pray our smug little Christian hearts out and self-righteously attend our comfortable churches, but we need to remember that we are also responsible for bringing the Kingdom of God at hand. We will not succeed entirely, but we can positively impact the present.
As my mother says, “You gotta pray to God, but row to shore.” Faith without action is impotent. Faith coupled with action, theory coupled with praxis, will ensure this world ends, not with a whimper, but with a bang.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Crowned & Anchored
A tribute to my favorite place here in Austin: The Crown and Anchor Pub
(sung to the tune of “The Yellow Rose of Texas”)
There’s a little pub in Austin, I’m going for to see,
The other students love her, almost as much as me.
We go there almost daily—for the “Crown” is always near;
We love our Crown & Anchor, her burgers, fries, and beer!
She’s the greatest little beer pub this Texan ever knew;
I’ll always stop on by there, to fetch myself a brew.
You can talk about the fancy bars on 6th Street you may see,
But the dear old Crown & Anchor is the only pub for me!
Kudos if you were able to make it through my song without laughing or navigating to another blog. I feel like waxing a bit poetic this evening, so please indulge my effusive declarations of love towards our local beer joint.
The Crown is probably the greatest pub in the universe. The size is perfect, although I sometimes wish it had more indoor seating. But the weather in Austin is so ideal for sitting outside that most places have extensive patios. You can even bring your dog to the Crown; on a typical afternoon, you have to dodge a few dogs on leashes as you make your way from the picnic tables to the bar. My friend Daisy even brings his cat on a leash, which may be the perfect ruse to pick-up women. (“Wow, what a cute kitty! What’s her name?" And so on…) Men, take note: cute pet = chance to meet chicks.
My friends and I are Crown “regulars” and the bar is also an unofficial seminary hang-out. Sit at the Crown for an length of time, and you will most likely see other seminarians, stopping by for a quick meal or a chance to decompress after a rigorous day of Hebrew exegesis. The Crown is sacred space where the conversation can range from dirty jokes to heated discussion over various atonement theories. The picnic tables are symbols of community and fellowship. I sometimes believe that I have gained more spiritual insight from conversations at the Crown & Anchor than I have from worship in Church.
Spiritual enlightenment is not limited to neo-Gothic cathedrals or religious institutions. Rather, the Holy Spirit can breathe, speak, and move within the most unorthodox and humble of locations-- even a small beer pub on the corner of Speedway and San Jacinto.
(sung to the tune of “The Yellow Rose of Texas”)
There’s a little pub in Austin, I’m going for to see,
The other students love her, almost as much as me.
We go there almost daily—for the “Crown” is always near;
We love our Crown & Anchor, her burgers, fries, and beer!
She’s the greatest little beer pub this Texan ever knew;
I’ll always stop on by there, to fetch myself a brew.
You can talk about the fancy bars on 6th Street you may see,
But the dear old Crown & Anchor is the only pub for me!
Kudos if you were able to make it through my song without laughing or navigating to another blog. I feel like waxing a bit poetic this evening, so please indulge my effusive declarations of love towards our local beer joint.
The Crown is probably the greatest pub in the universe. The size is perfect, although I sometimes wish it had more indoor seating. But the weather in Austin is so ideal for sitting outside that most places have extensive patios. You can even bring your dog to the Crown; on a typical afternoon, you have to dodge a few dogs on leashes as you make your way from the picnic tables to the bar. My friend Daisy even brings his cat on a leash, which may be the perfect ruse to pick-up women. (“Wow, what a cute kitty! What’s her name?" And so on…) Men, take note: cute pet = chance to meet chicks.
My friends and I are Crown “regulars” and the bar is also an unofficial seminary hang-out. Sit at the Crown for an length of time, and you will most likely see other seminarians, stopping by for a quick meal or a chance to decompress after a rigorous day of Hebrew exegesis. The Crown is sacred space where the conversation can range from dirty jokes to heated discussion over various atonement theories. The picnic tables are symbols of community and fellowship. I sometimes believe that I have gained more spiritual insight from conversations at the Crown & Anchor than I have from worship in Church.
Spiritual enlightenment is not limited to neo-Gothic cathedrals or religious institutions. Rather, the Holy Spirit can breathe, speak, and move within the most unorthodox and humble of locations-- even a small beer pub on the corner of Speedway and San Jacinto.
Sunday, November 27, 2005
Nun Danket Alle Gott
What music I am listening to: “La Boheme.” And not that crappy Baz Luhrman “La Boheme Gone Broadway" bullshit. I’m talking the real, Pavarotti-loving, Mirella Freni-singing opera by Giacomo Puccini.
“Now thank we all our God with heart and hands and voices,
Who wondrous things hath done, In whom this world rejoices;
Who, from our mothers’ arms, Hath blessed us on our way
With countless gifts of love, And still is ours today."
I love Thanksgiving. Forgive me for sounding like a lost citizen from Mayberry, but there’s something about turkey, dressing, and Grandma’s spinach casserole that makes a gal down-right thankful.
Thanksgiving may be the last holiday unadulterated by crass-consumerism, which is why it has my vote as “favorite holiday.” Thanksgiving is a simple, almost Zen-like holiday. No, or very few cards, are purchased or exchanged. No presents to buy. No Thanksgiving-novelty tunes, except for the annual playing of Arlo Guthrie’s “Alice’s Restaurant” on my family’s record player. Thanksgiving seems to creep up somewhere between Halloween and Christmas, lacking fanfare or rigmarole. Without weeks of build-up and anticipation, Thanksgiving has very little denouement and our eyes turn immediately to Christmas.
The other reason I am enamored with this holiday is that Thanksgiving effuses optimism. For a single day, we are called to remember the blessings bestowed upon us by our benevolent God. Ideally, everyday should be a Thanksgiving day but I will admit freely that I am rarely cognizant of the blessings in my life. I tend to bitch—a LOT. I bitch about not being pretty enough, thin enough, being single, not having enough money, etc. When all is said and done, what do I have to bitch about? I live in a country where I, a woman, can pursue higher education. And what’s more, I am member of a denomination that supports female ordination. I have a roof over my head, food to eat, and friends and family to love. Thanksgiving reminds us that, “hey, maybe things aren’t so bad after all.”
Food is very much synonymous with love and this belief is not exclusive to American culture. Human beings have been gathering around tables for food and fellowship since our evolution from apes (or since Adam and Eve, depending on your beliefs). In Judeo-Christian traditions, the table is very much a symbol of community with others as well as community with God. Jews celebrate a Passover seder to commemorate God’s deliverance of the Hebrews from slavery. Christians celebrate the Eucharist (Lord’s Supper/Holy Communion) to commemorate the Last Supper of Jesus Christ. Thanksgiving commemorates the “ties that bind our hearts in human love.” We gather around food, give thanks for blessings, and by sharing the food, symbolically share our blessings with each other.
As we brace ourselves for the frenetic pace of the Holiday Season, let us not forget the simplistic meaning of Thanksgiving. Let us count blessings, give thanks, give hugs and words of kind reassurance. The world may be cruel, but that does not mean that we should become purveyors of its cruelty.
“Now thank we all our God with heart and hands and voices,
Who wondrous things hath done, In whom this world rejoices;
Who, from our mothers’ arms, Hath blessed us on our way
With countless gifts of love, And still is ours today."
I love Thanksgiving. Forgive me for sounding like a lost citizen from Mayberry, but there’s something about turkey, dressing, and Grandma’s spinach casserole that makes a gal down-right thankful.
Thanksgiving may be the last holiday unadulterated by crass-consumerism, which is why it has my vote as “favorite holiday.” Thanksgiving is a simple, almost Zen-like holiday. No, or very few cards, are purchased or exchanged. No presents to buy. No Thanksgiving-novelty tunes, except for the annual playing of Arlo Guthrie’s “Alice’s Restaurant” on my family’s record player. Thanksgiving seems to creep up somewhere between Halloween and Christmas, lacking fanfare or rigmarole. Without weeks of build-up and anticipation, Thanksgiving has very little denouement and our eyes turn immediately to Christmas.
The other reason I am enamored with this holiday is that Thanksgiving effuses optimism. For a single day, we are called to remember the blessings bestowed upon us by our benevolent God. Ideally, everyday should be a Thanksgiving day but I will admit freely that I am rarely cognizant of the blessings in my life. I tend to bitch—a LOT. I bitch about not being pretty enough, thin enough, being single, not having enough money, etc. When all is said and done, what do I have to bitch about? I live in a country where I, a woman, can pursue higher education. And what’s more, I am member of a denomination that supports female ordination. I have a roof over my head, food to eat, and friends and family to love. Thanksgiving reminds us that, “hey, maybe things aren’t so bad after all.”
Food is very much synonymous with love and this belief is not exclusive to American culture. Human beings have been gathering around tables for food and fellowship since our evolution from apes (or since Adam and Eve, depending on your beliefs). In Judeo-Christian traditions, the table is very much a symbol of community with others as well as community with God. Jews celebrate a Passover seder to commemorate God’s deliverance of the Hebrews from slavery. Christians celebrate the Eucharist (Lord’s Supper/Holy Communion) to commemorate the Last Supper of Jesus Christ. Thanksgiving commemorates the “ties that bind our hearts in human love.” We gather around food, give thanks for blessings, and by sharing the food, symbolically share our blessings with each other.
As we brace ourselves for the frenetic pace of the Holiday Season, let us not forget the simplistic meaning of Thanksgiving. Let us count blessings, give thanks, give hugs and words of kind reassurance. The world may be cruel, but that does not mean that we should become purveyors of its cruelty.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
20/20 Hindsight
Writing a paper at the last minute, again. I have a paper due for theology tomorrow, and I, in typical Meredith fashion, have managed to cram two and a half weeks worth of research into 24 hours.
I take a small amount of pride in my ability to procrastinate; despite overwhelming time constraints, I usually complete tasks with a frantic flourish. Generally I get good grades and I always wonder, well, what would happen if I didn’t wait until the last minute? And inevitably, halfway through the process, I wonder, “Why, oh why, did I procrastinate? I’m 23 years old, I have a college degree, shouldn’t I know better?” But then again, I was always the child who repeatedly touched the hot stove, never learning that it would burn me. I suppose that deep down, I vehemently believed that that next time my finger touched the stove, I would have somehow changed the fundamental properties of the stove and it would no longer be hot.
I often wonder if I am doomed to repeat the same mistakes. Like my inner child, I often “keep touching the stove” when it comes to certain people and situations in my life. For example, when I look back at the failed relationships in my life, I notice the same destructive behavioral patterns. Generally with men, my history tends to repeat itself. I tend to follow my “standard operating procedures” and then am devastated when the relationship doesn’t work out. It’s like that Pete Seeger song, “Where have all the flowers gone?” which laments after each verse: “when will they ever learn? Oh, when will they ever learn?”
When will I ever learn? Is my behavior the result of a stubborn resistance to change? (I’m a Taurus—we be stubborn folk!) Or is it genetically hard-wired into me and thus is instinct? And if so, can a person overcome instinct? I sometimes doubt that human beings can truly conquer their innate animal instincts. You can argue with me all you want, but no matter how evolved our society becomes, human beings will continue to pursue basic animal desires: sex, shelter, food, water.
I doubt that my relationship mistakes are actually instinct. Most likely, they are the result of years of emotional baggage and neurotic tendencies. With prayer, persistence, and the guidance of my peers, I can someday change some of my skewed relationship paradigms…but not overnight. Patience, Meredith. Patience!
I take a small amount of pride in my ability to procrastinate; despite overwhelming time constraints, I usually complete tasks with a frantic flourish. Generally I get good grades and I always wonder, well, what would happen if I didn’t wait until the last minute? And inevitably, halfway through the process, I wonder, “Why, oh why, did I procrastinate? I’m 23 years old, I have a college degree, shouldn’t I know better?” But then again, I was always the child who repeatedly touched the hot stove, never learning that it would burn me. I suppose that deep down, I vehemently believed that that next time my finger touched the stove, I would have somehow changed the fundamental properties of the stove and it would no longer be hot.
I often wonder if I am doomed to repeat the same mistakes. Like my inner child, I often “keep touching the stove” when it comes to certain people and situations in my life. For example, when I look back at the failed relationships in my life, I notice the same destructive behavioral patterns. Generally with men, my history tends to repeat itself. I tend to follow my “standard operating procedures” and then am devastated when the relationship doesn’t work out. It’s like that Pete Seeger song, “Where have all the flowers gone?” which laments after each verse: “when will they ever learn? Oh, when will they ever learn?”
When will I ever learn? Is my behavior the result of a stubborn resistance to change? (I’m a Taurus—we be stubborn folk!) Or is it genetically hard-wired into me and thus is instinct? And if so, can a person overcome instinct? I sometimes doubt that human beings can truly conquer their innate animal instincts. You can argue with me all you want, but no matter how evolved our society becomes, human beings will continue to pursue basic animal desires: sex, shelter, food, water.
I doubt that my relationship mistakes are actually instinct. Most likely, they are the result of years of emotional baggage and neurotic tendencies. With prayer, persistence, and the guidance of my peers, I can someday change some of my skewed relationship paradigms…but not overnight. Patience, Meredith. Patience!
Friday, November 18, 2005
Simply Red
What music I am listening to: Jesus Christ Superstar. Out of sheer laziness: it's still in my crappy CD player.
A Haiku describing my current state of affairs:
I dyed my hair red:
How I hoped for reddish brown.
O! Flaming carrot!
A Haiku describing my current state of affairs:
I dyed my hair red:
How I hoped for reddish brown.
O! Flaming carrot!
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
With a Song in my Heart
“My life flow on in endless song, above Earth’s lamentation,
I hear the real, though far-off hymn that hails a new creation.
No storm can shake my inmost calm, while to the Rock I’m clinging,
Since love is Lord of heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing?
What though my joys and comforts die? I know my Savior liveth.
What though the darkness gather round? Songs in the night he giveth.
No storm can shake my inmost calm, while to the Rock I’m clinging,
Since love is Lord of heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing?"
So go the words from a piece of music sacred and precious to my heart. I first heard the words during my inaugural summer as a cast member in the summer-stock theater production of “TEXAS.” The “How Can I Keep from Singing” number was the climax of Act I and my favorite moment in the show. “TEXAS” is performed in one of the greatest outdoor venues on Earth- the Pioneer Amphitheater in Palo Duro Canyon. I used to sing the words of this song on a dimly lit stage under a majestic night sky, the Canyon walls providing a rugged, yet ethereal, backdrop.
If we get to choose our own personal heaven, then I would wish my soul to roam freely about the Palo Duro Canyon, forever ebbing and flowing in Endless Song. My only wish for my life is to never stop being able to sing! It is impossible for me to spend a day without a song in my heart. I believe that God blessed me with eternal song; how, then, can I keep from singing? To paraphrase Jesus, if I were commanded to keep silence, I believe that the rocks themselves would life up their voices in song.
As flowers in a wreath are woven together in a unified circle, so are my music and my faith. I realized not too long ago that my faith led me to music and my music led me to my faith. Where one seemed to stymie, the other would flourish. Where one would stifle, the other would inspire. When my faith seems inert, I turn to songs so that I may hear the voice of God. When music no longer fulfills my longing, I turn to my faith for inspiration.
The last Sunday at my home church, my best and dearest friend surprised me with his own choral arrangement of “How Can I Keep from Singing.” To this day, I sob whenever I hear this hymn, for it recalls not only memories of my beloved Palo Duro Canyon, but also memories of the home I left behind. My life is unsure right now. I do not understand myself, nor do I understand my call; what God has planned for my life is a complete enigma. But while storms of self-doubt may “shake my inmost calm,” I will forever cling to the Rock, forever remember that while “Love is Lord of heaven and earth,” there will never be a reason not to sing.
I hear the real, though far-off hymn that hails a new creation.
No storm can shake my inmost calm, while to the Rock I’m clinging,
Since love is Lord of heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing?
What though my joys and comforts die? I know my Savior liveth.
What though the darkness gather round? Songs in the night he giveth.
No storm can shake my inmost calm, while to the Rock I’m clinging,
Since love is Lord of heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing?"
So go the words from a piece of music sacred and precious to my heart. I first heard the words during my inaugural summer as a cast member in the summer-stock theater production of “TEXAS.” The “How Can I Keep from Singing” number was the climax of Act I and my favorite moment in the show. “TEXAS” is performed in one of the greatest outdoor venues on Earth- the Pioneer Amphitheater in Palo Duro Canyon. I used to sing the words of this song on a dimly lit stage under a majestic night sky, the Canyon walls providing a rugged, yet ethereal, backdrop.
If we get to choose our own personal heaven, then I would wish my soul to roam freely about the Palo Duro Canyon, forever ebbing and flowing in Endless Song. My only wish for my life is to never stop being able to sing! It is impossible for me to spend a day without a song in my heart. I believe that God blessed me with eternal song; how, then, can I keep from singing? To paraphrase Jesus, if I were commanded to keep silence, I believe that the rocks themselves would life up their voices in song.
As flowers in a wreath are woven together in a unified circle, so are my music and my faith. I realized not too long ago that my faith led me to music and my music led me to my faith. Where one seemed to stymie, the other would flourish. Where one would stifle, the other would inspire. When my faith seems inert, I turn to songs so that I may hear the voice of God. When music no longer fulfills my longing, I turn to my faith for inspiration.
The last Sunday at my home church, my best and dearest friend surprised me with his own choral arrangement of “How Can I Keep from Singing.” To this day, I sob whenever I hear this hymn, for it recalls not only memories of my beloved Palo Duro Canyon, but also memories of the home I left behind. My life is unsure right now. I do not understand myself, nor do I understand my call; what God has planned for my life is a complete enigma. But while storms of self-doubt may “shake my inmost calm,” I will forever cling to the Rock, forever remember that while “Love is Lord of heaven and earth,” there will never be a reason not to sing.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Walkin' After 10:00 P.M.
What music I am listening to: Soundtrack to Jesus Christ Superstar. This soundtrack profoundly affected my life in a way no other music has. I'll write about it sometime...
Winter, or at least, a close cousin of Winter, has finally arrived here in the capital city of the great state of Texas. I went for a walk with two of my best friends here at seminary, Ryan, the one whom we call "Pappan," and Ryan, the one whom we call "Daisy." The three of us strolled along the streets which wind around the University of Texas and Austin Seminary campuses, and even though the cold wind permeated the thin material of my hoodie, I paid little mind to the cold. [Alright- to be honest, towards the end of our perambulation, I was noticeably shivering and was very glad when Daisy suggested we return home.]
Walking is good for the soul-- and yes, pun intended. Our ancestors walked everywhere and I tend to believe that by relying on automobiles, we are missing the simple pleasure of walking. When you walk somewhere, your mind has a chance to wander aimlessly, even if you move with the concentrated purpose of a native New Yorker. Tonight, we wandered aimlessly, both with our feet and also with our conversation. We talked of theology, of triumphs and sorrows of the art. We shared hopes, fears, dreams, and encouragements. As I returned to my apartment, with cold toes and ruddy cheeks, I realized yet again how much Austin feels like home and how I have already grown to love my new-found friends.
Winter, or at least, a close cousin of Winter, has finally arrived here in the capital city of the great state of Texas. I went for a walk with two of my best friends here at seminary, Ryan, the one whom we call "Pappan," and Ryan, the one whom we call "Daisy." The three of us strolled along the streets which wind around the University of Texas and Austin Seminary campuses, and even though the cold wind permeated the thin material of my hoodie, I paid little mind to the cold. [Alright- to be honest, towards the end of our perambulation, I was noticeably shivering and was very glad when Daisy suggested we return home.]
Walking is good for the soul-- and yes, pun intended. Our ancestors walked everywhere and I tend to believe that by relying on automobiles, we are missing the simple pleasure of walking. When you walk somewhere, your mind has a chance to wander aimlessly, even if you move with the concentrated purpose of a native New Yorker. Tonight, we wandered aimlessly, both with our feet and also with our conversation. We talked of theology, of triumphs and sorrows of the art. We shared hopes, fears, dreams, and encouragements. As I returned to my apartment, with cold toes and ruddy cheeks, I realized yet again how much Austin feels like home and how I have already grown to love my new-found friends.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Blast from the Past
What music I am listening to: Renee Fleming, Mozart Arias. Ms. Fleming is the reigning Lyric Soprano of our Day.
As I get to know my classmates better, I find it fascinating to learn about eachother's past lives; that is, the lives we had Pre-seminary, Pre-John Calvin, Pre-Destination (just kidding on that last one!). You know how when you are a kid and you can't imagine your mom being anyone else other than your mom? Obviously, your mother wasn't always your mother-- she had friends, relationships, and a whole other life before she was your mother. She may have had an entirely fascinating existence full of espionage and intrigue, but, as far as you were concerned, she was just your Mom, the one who tucked you into bed at night and wiped schmutz off your chin with her spit and a kleenex.
The same goes for my friends here at seminary. I know them purely in the context of seminary life and it is often hard for me to imagine them in any other sphere. Whenever someone brings up anecdotes from their "past live(s)," I sometimes have difficulty placing them out my frame of reference.
Of course, the same goes for me-- I have had several colorful "past lives" that few people here really know about. Most know that I was a music major, but few know that I was once on my way to being a professional opera singer. For most of my undergraduate career, all I could dream about was winning the audition for the Metropolitan Opera and one day be the preeminent Mezzo-Soprano of the day. One of my greatest memories from my "aspiring diva" days was the time when I performed with the Amarillo Symphony on one of the Concerts for Young People. I dressed up in my finest "Diva Dresses" and sang an aria for an audience of about 2,000 elementary school children. The experience was exhilerating because I am a passionate believer in exposing children to the arts. Several weeks later, I received a packet of letters from some of the kids which expressed their appreciation. Here is one: [note- to preserve authenticity, I have reproduced the letter in its original state, spelling errors and all]
"Dear Opra Singer,
I thought that you did wonderful. Maybe some of my friends didn't like you but I loved your perfomance. I wish that you could teach me how to sing like that. When I grow up I want to be just like you. I hop that we could talk in person sometime.
Yours truly, Breanna
P.S . Please write back or come over to my house sometime. You'll love my family. You'll probally love my dogs to."
Ah- the honesty of youth! Her letter, along with the letters of her peers which are similar in content, continues to inspire me and remind me that we are to be an example to others. It is both empowering and humbling to be an example for someone. What little Breanna doesn't know or see is that I, Meredith Kemp, am not always a good person. I am neurotic and tend to be a little klutzy. But Breanna doesn't care- she saw Opera Meredith and thus saw something inspiring.
How often do we look in the mirror and see only our imperfection when, in reality, others look from far away and see nothing but beauty?
As I get to know my classmates better, I find it fascinating to learn about eachother's past lives; that is, the lives we had Pre-seminary, Pre-John Calvin, Pre-Destination (just kidding on that last one!). You know how when you are a kid and you can't imagine your mom being anyone else other than your mom? Obviously, your mother wasn't always your mother-- she had friends, relationships, and a whole other life before she was your mother. She may have had an entirely fascinating existence full of espionage and intrigue, but, as far as you were concerned, she was just your Mom, the one who tucked you into bed at night and wiped schmutz off your chin with her spit and a kleenex.
The same goes for my friends here at seminary. I know them purely in the context of seminary life and it is often hard for me to imagine them in any other sphere. Whenever someone brings up anecdotes from their "past live(s)," I sometimes have difficulty placing them out my frame of reference.
Of course, the same goes for me-- I have had several colorful "past lives" that few people here really know about. Most know that I was a music major, but few know that I was once on my way to being a professional opera singer. For most of my undergraduate career, all I could dream about was winning the audition for the Metropolitan Opera and one day be the preeminent Mezzo-Soprano of the day. One of my greatest memories from my "aspiring diva" days was the time when I performed with the Amarillo Symphony on one of the Concerts for Young People. I dressed up in my finest "Diva Dresses" and sang an aria for an audience of about 2,000 elementary school children. The experience was exhilerating because I am a passionate believer in exposing children to the arts. Several weeks later, I received a packet of letters from some of the kids which expressed their appreciation. Here is one: [note- to preserve authenticity, I have reproduced the letter in its original state, spelling errors and all]
"Dear Opra Singer,
I thought that you did wonderful. Maybe some of my friends didn't like you but I loved your perfomance. I wish that you could teach me how to sing like that. When I grow up I want to be just like you. I hop that we could talk in person sometime.
Yours truly, Breanna
P.S . Please write back or come over to my house sometime. You'll love my family. You'll probally love my dogs to."
Ah- the honesty of youth! Her letter, along with the letters of her peers which are similar in content, continues to inspire me and remind me that we are to be an example to others. It is both empowering and humbling to be an example for someone. What little Breanna doesn't know or see is that I, Meredith Kemp, am not always a good person. I am neurotic and tend to be a little klutzy. But Breanna doesn't care- she saw Opera Meredith and thus saw something inspiring.
How often do we look in the mirror and see only our imperfection when, in reality, others look from far away and see nothing but beauty?
Saturday, November 12, 2005
A Brief Moment with Thoreau
What music I am listening to: The White Stripes. Again. When I find a CD I like, I listen to it over and over, for days on end, until I grow so tired of it I put the CD away and don't bring it out again for months.
Saturday. I wish I could say that today was spent in rigorous, disciplined study, but I frittered away my hours. My worship paper remains unfinished: thank God for Sunday!
Some words from my good friend H.D. Thoreau:
"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."
My greatest hope is that I will always live deliberately, that I will never settle into a lukewarm, mediochre life. A life of medicrity is, perhaps, one of my greatest fears. I realized today that I do not dream as I once did. When I was a little girl, I had high aspirations of becoming the first female president. In college, those aspirations gave way to the dream of becoming a world-renowned opera singer. But now, I feel as if I no longer have dreams, that all I want out of my life is family and a the proverbial house with the picket fence.
Is there any place in the ministry for high ambition? I would say no, and I offer my apologies to any Joel Osteen wanna-bes out there. I think that ambition can easily become a false idol, thus replacing the gracious God we want to serve in the first place. But I wonder if I am "settling" if I would be happy as the senior pastor of some small, rural Presbyterian church. I want to reach my full potential as a human being, only at this point, I am clueless to what that potential may be.
I'm sad that I no longer dream. When did I become so immersed in reality, in the present? Where is the little girl who so desperately wanted to change the world? When I think about changing the world, it all feels so hopeless...
Saturday. I wish I could say that today was spent in rigorous, disciplined study, but I frittered away my hours. My worship paper remains unfinished: thank God for Sunday!
Some words from my good friend H.D. Thoreau:
"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."
My greatest hope is that I will always live deliberately, that I will never settle into a lukewarm, mediochre life. A life of medicrity is, perhaps, one of my greatest fears. I realized today that I do not dream as I once did. When I was a little girl, I had high aspirations of becoming the first female president. In college, those aspirations gave way to the dream of becoming a world-renowned opera singer. But now, I feel as if I no longer have dreams, that all I want out of my life is family and a the proverbial house with the picket fence.
Is there any place in the ministry for high ambition? I would say no, and I offer my apologies to any Joel Osteen wanna-bes out there. I think that ambition can easily become a false idol, thus replacing the gracious God we want to serve in the first place. But I wonder if I am "settling" if I would be happy as the senior pastor of some small, rural Presbyterian church. I want to reach my full potential as a human being, only at this point, I am clueless to what that potential may be.
I'm sad that I no longer dream. When did I become so immersed in reality, in the present? Where is the little girl who so desperately wanted to change the world? When I think about changing the world, it all feels so hopeless...
Friday, November 11, 2005
It's Friday, I'm In Love (Well, Not Really)
What music I am listening to: The White Stripes- Elephant. Lately, I can't seem to get enough of the "White Stripes." This album is infintely excellent!
This week has been pretty busy, which is why I haven't posted anything new in a few days. Also, my wireless card died, so I was without internet here in my apartment. I don't have cable TV and thus, the internet is my only time waster. I have felt so cut-off from the civilized world and I was only without the internet for 2 days! Today, amongst the myriad of errands I had to run, I purchased a shiny new wireless card, so all is right with the world.
If you haven't already, I encourage you to visit the website, www.postsecret.blogspot.com. Through this website, people have sent in postcards with secrets on them, which are then published on the web. All submissions are anonymous. Some of the postcards are funny, some are risque, and others are primal screams from hearts aching from the depths of human suffering.
I love this website because all the postcards are examples of what it means to exist in the human condition. And I would say, after being in Systematic Theology for almost 10 weeks now, that the human condition is one of pain and suffering. This world is permeated with pain, both shared and kept private. Postsecret is an example of how our brothers and sisters suffer and are desperate for someone to listen to their problems. Even "Blogging" is an excuse to air private, personal thoughts within the controlled anonymity of cyberspace. I feel entirely more comfortable expressing myself online than I do in class or even with many of my peers.
So the lesson here is: Be sensitive to another's feelings, for we do not always know the trials and tribulations of our neighbors! We must learn to be patient with our sisters and brothers so that they may learn to be patient with us.
I reaized this week that what I want most from my life is to help assauge the pain of my brothers and sisters. If, at the end of my life, I can look back and see that I eased the suffering of even one person, I will consider my life unwasted.
This week has been pretty busy, which is why I haven't posted anything new in a few days. Also, my wireless card died, so I was without internet here in my apartment. I don't have cable TV and thus, the internet is my only time waster. I have felt so cut-off from the civilized world and I was only without the internet for 2 days! Today, amongst the myriad of errands I had to run, I purchased a shiny new wireless card, so all is right with the world.
If you haven't already, I encourage you to visit the website, www.postsecret.blogspot.com. Through this website, people have sent in postcards with secrets on them, which are then published on the web. All submissions are anonymous. Some of the postcards are funny, some are risque, and others are primal screams from hearts aching from the depths of human suffering.
I love this website because all the postcards are examples of what it means to exist in the human condition. And I would say, after being in Systematic Theology for almost 10 weeks now, that the human condition is one of pain and suffering. This world is permeated with pain, both shared and kept private. Postsecret is an example of how our brothers and sisters suffer and are desperate for someone to listen to their problems. Even "Blogging" is an excuse to air private, personal thoughts within the controlled anonymity of cyberspace. I feel entirely more comfortable expressing myself online than I do in class or even with many of my peers.
So the lesson here is: Be sensitive to another's feelings, for we do not always know the trials and tribulations of our neighbors! We must learn to be patient with our sisters and brothers so that they may learn to be patient with us.
I reaized this week that what I want most from my life is to help assauge the pain of my brothers and sisters. If, at the end of my life, I can look back and see that I eased the suffering of even one person, I will consider my life unwasted.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Out of Exile!
What music I am listening to: Jeff Buckley's cover of the Leonard Cohen Song "Hallelujah," my favorite song at the moment because it encompasses all that I am feeling.
Had an epiphany in class today. Actually, I have been having several epiphanies in the past 48 hours. A good friend my said this morning, "How is that I will have several epiphanies in a short span, and the rest of the time is a desert of pertinent thought?" If life were fair, then brilliant thoughts would surely be evenly spaced. But I digress.
In Old Testament, we have been studying the exile of the Jewish people. For those non-Old Testament scholars out there, the Exile occurred when a succession of several empires (Neo-Assyrians, Babylonians, Persians) overthrew the kingdoms of Israel and Judah and forced the Jewish people into exile. The major theme of the Old Testament is the cycle of losing and gaining the "Promise Land." God's people are given "the promise land" as part of God's covenant with Abraham and Moses, but as soon as the Israelites sin and turn away from God, their homeland is taken away.
Here is where the epiphany comes in. Many of the Old Testament prophets lament Israel's wickedness that led them into the exiled condition. But a few view the exile and oppression as a time of renewal, that God is using this time of harship to enable God's people to learn, reflect and grow. Is this not a universal truth of pain and suffering? A fire may rush through a forest and destroy innumerable trees, but out of the ashes, do not new saplings rise up?
I know that I, along with my brethren and sistren (is that a word?), can identify with our ancestors who once dwelled in exiled. All of us are separated from family, friends, and our "homelands." I looked around the room today and I could feel the pain of my colleagues. Due to impending exams and papers, morale is at a low. Our class, once jovial, is now melancholy. The honeymoon phase of seminary is now over; reality has sunk in and we all feel as if we are drowning in a whirlpool of stress, crises of faith, and academic pressures.
It occured to me that though I can identify with our exiled ancestors, this is time of growth, of close self-examination, of rebirth of the spirit. I thought that I would come to seminary and life would be a Magical Happy fairy-land of little pink bunnies and elves hip-hopping towards the roads paved with candy. Boy was I wrong! I knew that classes would be tough, but I didn't foresee the existential crises I wrestle with on a daily basis. I am not alone. My brothers and sisters struggle as I struggle. My greatest wish is that we will learn to uphold each other, so that if one of us should stumble, the rest of us will be there with gentle outstretched arms.
Had an epiphany in class today. Actually, I have been having several epiphanies in the past 48 hours. A good friend my said this morning, "How is that I will have several epiphanies in a short span, and the rest of the time is a desert of pertinent thought?" If life were fair, then brilliant thoughts would surely be evenly spaced. But I digress.
In Old Testament, we have been studying the exile of the Jewish people. For those non-Old Testament scholars out there, the Exile occurred when a succession of several empires (Neo-Assyrians, Babylonians, Persians) overthrew the kingdoms of Israel and Judah and forced the Jewish people into exile. The major theme of the Old Testament is the cycle of losing and gaining the "Promise Land." God's people are given "the promise land" as part of God's covenant with Abraham and Moses, but as soon as the Israelites sin and turn away from God, their homeland is taken away.
Here is where the epiphany comes in. Many of the Old Testament prophets lament Israel's wickedness that led them into the exiled condition. But a few view the exile and oppression as a time of renewal, that God is using this time of harship to enable God's people to learn, reflect and grow. Is this not a universal truth of pain and suffering? A fire may rush through a forest and destroy innumerable trees, but out of the ashes, do not new saplings rise up?
I know that I, along with my brethren and sistren (is that a word?), can identify with our ancestors who once dwelled in exiled. All of us are separated from family, friends, and our "homelands." I looked around the room today and I could feel the pain of my colleagues. Due to impending exams and papers, morale is at a low. Our class, once jovial, is now melancholy. The honeymoon phase of seminary is now over; reality has sunk in and we all feel as if we are drowning in a whirlpool of stress, crises of faith, and academic pressures.
It occured to me that though I can identify with our exiled ancestors, this is time of growth, of close self-examination, of rebirth of the spirit. I thought that I would come to seminary and life would be a Magical Happy fairy-land of little pink bunnies and elves hip-hopping towards the roads paved with candy. Boy was I wrong! I knew that classes would be tough, but I didn't foresee the existential crises I wrestle with on a daily basis. I am not alone. My brothers and sisters struggle as I struggle. My greatest wish is that we will learn to uphold each other, so that if one of us should stumble, the rest of us will be there with gentle outstretched arms.
Saturday, November 05, 2005
Lonely Pancakes
What music I am listening to: Grateful Dead "American Beauty." Today is a mellow kind of a day...
I attempted to make pumpkin pancakes this morning. After my first few attempts which resulted in mutated, burned, and otherwise fucked-up pancakes, I managed to produced three good specimens.
My mother mother used to make us breakfast on Saturday mornings. I don't know if it was the smell or the sound of cooking bacon that used to wake me up, but the impending breakfast-y goodness would always arouse me out of my bed. Now that I am grown, big homemade breakfasts are but a memory. My former roommate and I used to make breakfast several times a week and I miss our early morning community over bacon eggs. You can make breakfast for yourself, but it's not the same when you do not have anyone to share your breakfast with.
Breakfast this morning reminded me of my perpetual state of loneliness. It is true that here, I am surrounded by numerous friends. I am never truly alone, and, for that matter, it is impossible to be alone at this school where I see and interact with my classmates on a daily basis. But my loneliness is deeper than the actual, physical state of being alone: I desire compansionship. I have not been involved in a serious romantic relationship for almost 4 years. And yes, I have had dates, one night stands, etc. during these past four years, but nothing substantial. Very little of it healthy.
Here at the seminary, I am surrounded by married couples, engaged couples, and couples involved in serious romantic relationships. While I realize that it is wrong to covet what they have, I cannot help but be jealous of their love. I'm past wanting a boyfriend just to have a boyfriend--I long for a mature adult relationship. Maybe the time is not right, but I still want someone to make pancakes for, someone to laugh with, to cry with; someone to hold and someone to hold me; someone who will love me unconditionally and someone I can love without bound.
I attempted to make pumpkin pancakes this morning. After my first few attempts which resulted in mutated, burned, and otherwise fucked-up pancakes, I managed to produced three good specimens.
My mother mother used to make us breakfast on Saturday mornings. I don't know if it was the smell or the sound of cooking bacon that used to wake me up, but the impending breakfast-y goodness would always arouse me out of my bed. Now that I am grown, big homemade breakfasts are but a memory. My former roommate and I used to make breakfast several times a week and I miss our early morning community over bacon eggs. You can make breakfast for yourself, but it's not the same when you do not have anyone to share your breakfast with.
Breakfast this morning reminded me of my perpetual state of loneliness. It is true that here, I am surrounded by numerous friends. I am never truly alone, and, for that matter, it is impossible to be alone at this school where I see and interact with my classmates on a daily basis. But my loneliness is deeper than the actual, physical state of being alone: I desire compansionship. I have not been involved in a serious romantic relationship for almost 4 years. And yes, I have had dates, one night stands, etc. during these past four years, but nothing substantial. Very little of it healthy.
Here at the seminary, I am surrounded by married couples, engaged couples, and couples involved in serious romantic relationships. While I realize that it is wrong to covet what they have, I cannot help but be jealous of their love. I'm past wanting a boyfriend just to have a boyfriend--I long for a mature adult relationship. Maybe the time is not right, but I still want someone to make pancakes for, someone to laugh with, to cry with; someone to hold and someone to hold me; someone who will love me unconditionally and someone I can love without bound.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
A quote from Thomas Merton
What music I am listening to: Beethoven, Symphony No. 7. My favorite Beethoven symphony, next to the 9th (because, let's face it- the 9th Symphony is one of the greatest artistic achievements of humankind.)
The following is a quote from Thomas Merton, a Trappist monk who is one of my favorite spiritual writers. I found it today, amongst my ever-growing stack of papers. It sums up everything I am feeling right now. I want so desperately to know God, to worship at God's feet, to worship among the mighty cloud of witnesses. I know I fall short of this goal; I know that my sins and general shortcomings make me unworthy of God's love. But God loves me, all the same. Perhaps someday I will be willing to accept it.
"My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from your desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore, I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you you are ever with me and you will never leave me to face my peril alone."
-- Thomas Merton
The following is a quote from Thomas Merton, a Trappist monk who is one of my favorite spiritual writers. I found it today, amongst my ever-growing stack of papers. It sums up everything I am feeling right now. I want so desperately to know God, to worship at God's feet, to worship among the mighty cloud of witnesses. I know I fall short of this goal; I know that my sins and general shortcomings make me unworthy of God's love. But God loves me, all the same. Perhaps someday I will be willing to accept it.
"My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from your desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore, I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you you are ever with me and you will never leave me to face my peril alone."
-- Thomas Merton
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
For All the Saints
What Music I am listening to: The Best of Arlo Guthrie. Specifically, I am listening to his version of "City of New Orleans." What an amazing song! The words- so beautiful, the melody- so meloncholy.
Today's chapel service was one of the most profound religious experiences I have encountered in my entire life. For one reason, today is All-Saint's Day, which, in the Christian tradition, is the day to remember all the "saints" who have gone before us. I am always overcome with joy and grief when I remember my ancestors who are part of my religious heritage but who I will never meet until we are reunited in Heaven. We tend to think of Saints as religious titans- men and women of such faith in God that they withstood and ultimately triumphed over adversity. Even the martyrs went peacefully, even joyfully to their death. But the "Saints of God" were not just famous martyrs and champions of the faith. One of my favorite hymns sums it up perfectly:
"I sing a song of the saints of God, patient and brave and true,
Who toiled and fought and lived and died for the Lord they loved and knew.
And one was a doctor, and one was a queen, and one was a shepherdess on the green,
They were all of them saints of God, and I mean, God helping, to be one too."
The verses go on, and OK, the words are a little quirky. But the point of the song is that Saints of God are all around--these are the quiet, simple people who love their Lord and who love Jesus and the Holy Spirit. They lived their lives as a testimony to God's love.
I always think of my great-grandmother when I hear this song. I never knew her; she died before I was born. But my mother and grandmother have often told me how wonderful a lady my great-grandmother was, how she was a devout Presbyterian who devoted much of her life to the service of her church. And then (this part always makes me cry) my mother/grandmother tells me how Granny would be so proud of me. Proud of me! I always feel so humbled when I hear this. My granny, who walked closely with God, would have been proud of me. I am certainly not very proud of myself sometimes. Most of the time, I feel like a pretty lousy Christian. Although I am in seminary, I often do not feel that I am worthy of studying theology and the Word of God. And what right do I have to tell people about how God loves them when I have spiritual and emotional baggage? I don't have my own shit together; how can I possibly help others with their own shit? I want desperately to be a Saint of God, but I feel I am too depraved, to unworthy to receive God's mercy.
Today's chapel service was one of the most profound religious experiences I have encountered in my entire life. For one reason, today is All-Saint's Day, which, in the Christian tradition, is the day to remember all the "saints" who have gone before us. I am always overcome with joy and grief when I remember my ancestors who are part of my religious heritage but who I will never meet until we are reunited in Heaven. We tend to think of Saints as religious titans- men and women of such faith in God that they withstood and ultimately triumphed over adversity. Even the martyrs went peacefully, even joyfully to their death. But the "Saints of God" were not just famous martyrs and champions of the faith. One of my favorite hymns sums it up perfectly:
"I sing a song of the saints of God, patient and brave and true,
Who toiled and fought and lived and died for the Lord they loved and knew.
And one was a doctor, and one was a queen, and one was a shepherdess on the green,
They were all of them saints of God, and I mean, God helping, to be one too."
The verses go on, and OK, the words are a little quirky. But the point of the song is that Saints of God are all around--these are the quiet, simple people who love their Lord and who love Jesus and the Holy Spirit. They lived their lives as a testimony to God's love.
I always think of my great-grandmother when I hear this song. I never knew her; she died before I was born. But my mother and grandmother have often told me how wonderful a lady my great-grandmother was, how she was a devout Presbyterian who devoted much of her life to the service of her church. And then (this part always makes me cry) my mother/grandmother tells me how Granny would be so proud of me. Proud of me! I always feel so humbled when I hear this. My granny, who walked closely with God, would have been proud of me. I am certainly not very proud of myself sometimes. Most of the time, I feel like a pretty lousy Christian. Although I am in seminary, I often do not feel that I am worthy of studying theology and the Word of God. And what right do I have to tell people about how God loves them when I have spiritual and emotional baggage? I don't have my own shit together; how can I possibly help others with their own shit? I want desperately to be a Saint of God, but I feel I am too depraved, to unworthy to receive God's mercy.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Happy All Hallow's Eve!
What music I am listening to: Me First and the Gimme Gimmes: Are a Drag. Great CD- their cover of the song, "Rainbow Connection" is fucking awesome!
I have had a lot of beers this evening, so I apologize if this posting is somewhat incoherant.
Man, Halloween sucks when you are older! I remember the Halloweens of years past, when I would dress up in my costume and trick-or-treat with my father and brother. I was always a little scared of the dark, of being out on Halloween night, but the presence of my dad and his trusty flashlight would always assuage any of my fears.
My favorite Halloween candy? Fun-size Three Musketeer bars! Oh, the chocolate enveloping a soft cushion of nougat, whatever the hell nougat is! I used to steal Three Musketeer candy bars from my younger brother's Halloween candy stash.
My favorite Halloween costume? Hmmm... so many cool ones, it is hard to decide. My mother is an expert seamstress and we always had kick-ass costumes. One year I was Annie Oakley and my mother made me a great faux-leather fringed vest and matching skirt. (For those of you who don't know who Annie Oakley was, she was a famous Western sharp-shooter in the late 19th Century) When I was in first grade, I was the tooth fairy. My mother made a wonderful flowy skirt of purple netting. I wore it over a purple leotard. She also made me a wand with a tooth on the end of it.
I know that a lot of Christian conservatives are against the celebration of Halloween--they think it's "Satan's holiday." I know that in the Panhandle, many churches have "Fall Festivals" on Halloween night to discourage folks from trick-or-treating. But I say such festivals are silly. What's the harm in kids having fun? Dressing up as the tooth fairy was never a response to worship Satan but rather an excuse to pretend to be someone else and score some Three Musketeer bars. My problem with fundamentalism is that they (fundamentalists) can't stand it when people are having fun!
I have had a lot of beers this evening, so I apologize if this posting is somewhat incoherant.
Man, Halloween sucks when you are older! I remember the Halloweens of years past, when I would dress up in my costume and trick-or-treat with my father and brother. I was always a little scared of the dark, of being out on Halloween night, but the presence of my dad and his trusty flashlight would always assuage any of my fears.
My favorite Halloween candy? Fun-size Three Musketeer bars! Oh, the chocolate enveloping a soft cushion of nougat, whatever the hell nougat is! I used to steal Three Musketeer candy bars from my younger brother's Halloween candy stash.
My favorite Halloween costume? Hmmm... so many cool ones, it is hard to decide. My mother is an expert seamstress and we always had kick-ass costumes. One year I was Annie Oakley and my mother made me a great faux-leather fringed vest and matching skirt. (For those of you who don't know who Annie Oakley was, she was a famous Western sharp-shooter in the late 19th Century) When I was in first grade, I was the tooth fairy. My mother made a wonderful flowy skirt of purple netting. I wore it over a purple leotard. She also made me a wand with a tooth on the end of it.
I know that a lot of Christian conservatives are against the celebration of Halloween--they think it's "Satan's holiday." I know that in the Panhandle, many churches have "Fall Festivals" on Halloween night to discourage folks from trick-or-treating. But I say such festivals are silly. What's the harm in kids having fun? Dressing up as the tooth fairy was never a response to worship Satan but rather an excuse to pretend to be someone else and score some Three Musketeer bars. My problem with fundamentalism is that they (fundamentalists) can't stand it when people are having fun!
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Homeward Bound(less)
What music I am listening to: The Essential Simon & Garfunkel (yet again)
The refrain of one of my favorite S&G songs, Homeward Bound, goes like this:
"Homeward bound,
I wish I was,
Homeward bound:
Home, where my thoughts escapin'
Home, where my music's playin'
Home, where my Love lies waitin' silently for me."
I was, in fact, "Homeward Bound" this weekend-- my best friend was driving to Amarillo and I agreed to tag along so I could 1) assist with driving 2) see my family and friends. I have felt so terribly homesick for the past two months that I was ready to endure the 8 1/2 hour drive from Austin to Amarillo. We left late Thursday afternoon and arrived in Canyon, Texas (where I lived the past 5 years) around 2:30 A.M. Friday morning. We drove back today, Sunday. So, needless to say, this was a whirlwind of a weekend.
As we passed through the green sign proclaiming "Canyon City Limits," I could already tell that this weekend would be an exercise in surreality. The streets, houses, businesses of Canyon--all so familiar and yet so foreign. The city had not changed in two months. Even the house of my old roommate, where we stayed Thursday night, had not changed. I couldn't sleep. I lay in bed, feeling like a stranger in my own home. Friday morning, I visited the coffee shop where I used to work. How surreal to be an actual customer instead of an employee!
Seeing my family was an absolute joy. Seeing my old friends--that was another matter. With my family, I easily slipped into my familiar role of oldest child and the "big sister." Within moments of my arrival, I was helping my mother hang laundry and load the dishwasher. It was obvious that the parable of the Prodigal Son (Daughter) has been lost on my family. Where was my fatted calf and robe? Where was my party? Alas! Poor Meredith!
Now on to the old friends...if seeing my family was the epitome of Joy, seeing my friends was the epitome of awkwardness, perhaps mixed with a little pain. Here's a typical conversation:
Friend: Hey you! [Hug]
Me: Hey you!
F: It's so great to see you! What are in town for?
Me: It's great to see you, too. I'm in town for the weekend?
F: How's Austin?
Me: Oh, pretty good. It's not the Panhandle, that's for sure [both chuckle]
F: And how's Seminary?
Me: Great! Gotta love reading Calvin and Barth [I chuckle]
F: [stares somewhat blankly] Sounds neat!
Me: Oh, it is. I really love it.
... And so on. The conversation continues in banality and awkwardness. None of my friends from home are into theology and most do not understand my call to Seminary. I think a few still believe that I am going to become a nun, even though I have done all I can to dispel all myths about theological education. But the overall impression I get is that "Meredith is going to school to be a preacher?!?! Where did that come from? Our Meredith? The one who drinks, swears, enjoys a good dirty joke, and can party with the best of them? Why the hell would anyone want to be a preacher? Of course, because I MYSELF DON'T UNDERSTAND MY CALL, I can't possibly explain it to anyone else.
But the biggest problem isn't that my friends do not understand my love for Jesus and the Church. The biggest problem is that my life is going in one direction, my friends life is moving in another, and I no longer know where I "fit in" with any of their lives. I went to a Halloween party Friday night, and I had a terrible time because although I knew most of the people there, I had nothing in common with them anymore. They know nothing of my daily triumphs and struggles and I know nothing of theirs.
I guess the point I am trying to make is, I finally realized that Austin is my home. My seminary classmates are my new friends and I missed my Austin friends desperately this weekend! Seminary is the first place that I feel like I can be myself. These people seem to love me for who I am and are infinitely patient and accepting of my many, many idiosynchrises (spelling?). I never used to feel like I could talk about my Faith with anyone and it is still something I have trouble expressing. But here, I can talk about Jesus, theology, my Faith, and I don't feel like schmaltzy Hallmark card or religious "poser."
My heart is heavy laden with the bittersweet truth that life goes on and friendships evolve. And as flowers grow, blossom, and eventually fade and wither, I believe relationships also follow this pattern. We are left with memories of growth and blossoming and I believe these memories to be a gift and blessing from God.
I will no longer be as homesick for the Panhandle. My life is here. My home is here. Thanks and Glory be to God!
The refrain of one of my favorite S&G songs, Homeward Bound, goes like this:
"Homeward bound,
I wish I was,
Homeward bound:
Home, where my thoughts escapin'
Home, where my music's playin'
Home, where my Love lies waitin' silently for me."
I was, in fact, "Homeward Bound" this weekend-- my best friend was driving to Amarillo and I agreed to tag along so I could 1) assist with driving 2) see my family and friends. I have felt so terribly homesick for the past two months that I was ready to endure the 8 1/2 hour drive from Austin to Amarillo. We left late Thursday afternoon and arrived in Canyon, Texas (where I lived the past 5 years) around 2:30 A.M. Friday morning. We drove back today, Sunday. So, needless to say, this was a whirlwind of a weekend.
As we passed through the green sign proclaiming "Canyon City Limits," I could already tell that this weekend would be an exercise in surreality. The streets, houses, businesses of Canyon--all so familiar and yet so foreign. The city had not changed in two months. Even the house of my old roommate, where we stayed Thursday night, had not changed. I couldn't sleep. I lay in bed, feeling like a stranger in my own home. Friday morning, I visited the coffee shop where I used to work. How surreal to be an actual customer instead of an employee!
Seeing my family was an absolute joy. Seeing my old friends--that was another matter. With my family, I easily slipped into my familiar role of oldest child and the "big sister." Within moments of my arrival, I was helping my mother hang laundry and load the dishwasher. It was obvious that the parable of the Prodigal Son (Daughter) has been lost on my family. Where was my fatted calf and robe? Where was my party? Alas! Poor Meredith!
Now on to the old friends...if seeing my family was the epitome of Joy, seeing my friends was the epitome of awkwardness, perhaps mixed with a little pain. Here's a typical conversation:
Friend: Hey you! [Hug]
Me: Hey you!
F: It's so great to see you! What are in town for?
Me: It's great to see you, too. I'm in town for the weekend?
F: How's Austin?
Me: Oh, pretty good. It's not the Panhandle, that's for sure [both chuckle]
F: And how's Seminary?
Me: Great! Gotta love reading Calvin and Barth [I chuckle]
F: [stares somewhat blankly] Sounds neat!
Me: Oh, it is. I really love it.
... And so on. The conversation continues in banality and awkwardness. None of my friends from home are into theology and most do not understand my call to Seminary. I think a few still believe that I am going to become a nun, even though I have done all I can to dispel all myths about theological education. But the overall impression I get is that "Meredith is going to school to be a preacher?!?! Where did that come from? Our Meredith? The one who drinks, swears, enjoys a good dirty joke, and can party with the best of them? Why the hell would anyone want to be a preacher? Of course, because I MYSELF DON'T UNDERSTAND MY CALL, I can't possibly explain it to anyone else.
But the biggest problem isn't that my friends do not understand my love for Jesus and the Church. The biggest problem is that my life is going in one direction, my friends life is moving in another, and I no longer know where I "fit in" with any of their lives. I went to a Halloween party Friday night, and I had a terrible time because although I knew most of the people there, I had nothing in common with them anymore. They know nothing of my daily triumphs and struggles and I know nothing of theirs.
I guess the point I am trying to make is, I finally realized that Austin is my home. My seminary classmates are my new friends and I missed my Austin friends desperately this weekend! Seminary is the first place that I feel like I can be myself. These people seem to love me for who I am and are infinitely patient and accepting of my many, many idiosynchrises (spelling?). I never used to feel like I could talk about my Faith with anyone and it is still something I have trouble expressing. But here, I can talk about Jesus, theology, my Faith, and I don't feel like schmaltzy Hallmark card or religious "poser."
My heart is heavy laden with the bittersweet truth that life goes on and friendships evolve. And as flowers grow, blossom, and eventually fade and wither, I believe relationships also follow this pattern. We are left with memories of growth and blossoming and I believe these memories to be a gift and blessing from God.
I will no longer be as homesick for the Panhandle. My life is here. My home is here. Thanks and Glory be to God!
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Let's talk about Sin!
What Music I am listening to : The Essential Simon & Garfunkel; I started listening to S&G during my formative High School years. Whenever I feel broody and introspective, S&G become the soundtrack for my life.
This morning, I am doing something I haven't done since I moved to Austin-- I am skipping my Old Testament Class. Some would say that my absence from class this morning was due to my drinking too much homemade wine last night, but I woke up at my usual time and my hangover is (mostly) non-existent. I needed to read fifty pages of John Calvin this morning in order to prepare for my Theology class this afternoon. Theology is the class where, short of the Eschaton, I will never skip.
Our "unit" this week in Theology has been "Finitude, Sin, and Evil." ( I know what you are thinking: "Wow, that sounds like a laugh riot...") Presbyterians do not like to discuss evil- it makes us uncomfortable. (Come to think of it, just about everything tends to make Presbyterians uncomfortable. Generally speaking, we spend most of our waking hours trying to avoid doing or saying anything that will step on anyone's toes. Well, this seminarian says that maybe we should quit being so damn polite and step on a few toes! If everyone wears steel-toed boots, it won't hurt so much! Do you think Jesus worried about offending anybody? Absolutely not! But I digress...)
Why does sin make us so uncomfortable? Why do we want to avoid talking about evil? And what is sin/evil, anyway? One of my theories is that we, as Christians, do not truly believe that we are sinners. Oh, we know that we "fuck up" now and then, but, at the end of the day, we tend to be self-satisfied. Real sin and evil is reserved for socio-paths, child-molesters, terrorists, etc. A fellow seminarian was asked to define evil and he semi-jokingly replied, "Saddam Hussein." But while I do not agree that Saddam Hussein is the apex of the manifestation of evil, his response is representative of a majority of Christians. Of course we will not think we are sinful and capable of evil if we compare our shortcomings with those of a merciless dictator.
Augustine defines evil as "the absence of good." Since God created everything "good" and "very good" (see Genesis), that which is not good is not part of God's plan for creation and therefore is sin. Thus, it can be argued that evil exists where good does not. Hmmm... a good, point, but raises even more questions. I am finished for now, but this discussion shall continue at a later date.
This morning, I am doing something I haven't done since I moved to Austin-- I am skipping my Old Testament Class. Some would say that my absence from class this morning was due to my drinking too much homemade wine last night, but I woke up at my usual time and my hangover is (mostly) non-existent. I needed to read fifty pages of John Calvin this morning in order to prepare for my Theology class this afternoon. Theology is the class where, short of the Eschaton, I will never skip.
Our "unit" this week in Theology has been "Finitude, Sin, and Evil." ( I know what you are thinking: "Wow, that sounds like a laugh riot...") Presbyterians do not like to discuss evil- it makes us uncomfortable. (Come to think of it, just about everything tends to make Presbyterians uncomfortable. Generally speaking, we spend most of our waking hours trying to avoid doing or saying anything that will step on anyone's toes. Well, this seminarian says that maybe we should quit being so damn polite and step on a few toes! If everyone wears steel-toed boots, it won't hurt so much! Do you think Jesus worried about offending anybody? Absolutely not! But I digress...)
Why does sin make us so uncomfortable? Why do we want to avoid talking about evil? And what is sin/evil, anyway? One of my theories is that we, as Christians, do not truly believe that we are sinners. Oh, we know that we "fuck up" now and then, but, at the end of the day, we tend to be self-satisfied. Real sin and evil is reserved for socio-paths, child-molesters, terrorists, etc. A fellow seminarian was asked to define evil and he semi-jokingly replied, "Saddam Hussein." But while I do not agree that Saddam Hussein is the apex of the manifestation of evil, his response is representative of a majority of Christians. Of course we will not think we are sinful and capable of evil if we compare our shortcomings with those of a merciless dictator.
Augustine defines evil as "the absence of good." Since God created everything "good" and "very good" (see Genesis), that which is not good is not part of God's plan for creation and therefore is sin. Thus, it can be argued that evil exists where good does not. Hmmm... a good, point, but raises even more questions. I am finished for now, but this discussion shall continue at a later date.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
In the beginning...there was Meredith
Wow- my very own blog! Finally, I own a small fragment of the ever-expanding universe that is cyber space. Thanks to my good friend, Ryan Pappan, for all of his help (go to his website if you get a chance- it kicks ass!)
I am a first-year student at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, which I will admit is a long and pretentious name for a "preacher training school." Part of the function of this blog will be to explore what it is like to reconcile humanity with divinity, so I will not wax too poetically about school right now. Seminary is simultaneously fascinating and overwhelming. I tend to wonder if all of us (us=students) are somewhat bipolar as a result; it seems that everyone is either really "up" or really "down" about life and school. We just finished a week-long Fall Break and everyone is still in the process of shaking off the pleasant dream that was a week without classes.
I am glad that classes are back in session. I find that without structure and a daily schedule, I tend to accomplish nothing! Well, I accomplish drinking a lot of beer and fraternizing with my friends, but as for diligently studying- not so much.
I have lived in Austin for exactly 2 months and 2 days and, Oh!, what a tumultuous 2 months it has been! Not only did I have to leave behind family, dear friends, my job (which sucked- leaving that was not bad) and my church, but I also had to forge a new life in Austin while adjusting to the rigorous demands of a seminary education. No wonder I have become somewhat of a heavy drinker! Yet slowly, by the grace of God and the love and support of my new friends, I finally feel settled. But no matter how exciting the culture is here, how lush and vibrant the foliage or temperate the climate, the Panhandle will always be my home. How I long for expansive sky and the majesty of a Panhandle sunset! How my soul yearns for the cold, crisp mornings of Autumn in the Panhandle! Forgive me, for I know that I am romanticizing my homeland. But as all displaced people must do, I yearn for my family and for that which is familiar.
I am a first-year student at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, which I will admit is a long and pretentious name for a "preacher training school." Part of the function of this blog will be to explore what it is like to reconcile humanity with divinity, so I will not wax too poetically about school right now. Seminary is simultaneously fascinating and overwhelming. I tend to wonder if all of us (us=students) are somewhat bipolar as a result; it seems that everyone is either really "up" or really "down" about life and school. We just finished a week-long Fall Break and everyone is still in the process of shaking off the pleasant dream that was a week without classes.
I am glad that classes are back in session. I find that without structure and a daily schedule, I tend to accomplish nothing! Well, I accomplish drinking a lot of beer and fraternizing with my friends, but as for diligently studying- not so much.
I have lived in Austin for exactly 2 months and 2 days and, Oh!, what a tumultuous 2 months it has been! Not only did I have to leave behind family, dear friends, my job (which sucked- leaving that was not bad) and my church, but I also had to forge a new life in Austin while adjusting to the rigorous demands of a seminary education. No wonder I have become somewhat of a heavy drinker! Yet slowly, by the grace of God and the love and support of my new friends, I finally feel settled. But no matter how exciting the culture is here, how lush and vibrant the foliage or temperate the climate, the Panhandle will always be my home. How I long for expansive sky and the majesty of a Panhandle sunset! How my soul yearns for the cold, crisp mornings of Autumn in the Panhandle! Forgive me, for I know that I am romanticizing my homeland. But as all displaced people must do, I yearn for my family and for that which is familiar.
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