Interstitiality

U2 Upon Further Review

I had mixed feelings about the U2 concert. Not that I have mixed feelings about the band’s performance or about U2 as a band. I genuinely believe that there are few bands on earth who put on a better live performance. No other band that I can think of has such a rare combination of spirituality, political conscience, and great rocking music. Bono has charisma; there is no doubt about it. The concert itself had a few wrinkles. Bono forgot the words to “Yahweh” and “Who’s Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses,” causing the Edge to start over (both songs started with acoustic guitar). There were also some strange lyrical changes, but nothing that bothered me too much. The sound and lighting was fantastic. My mixed feelings came from the events of the day. Earlier on Sunday, as my last blog entry records, my grandmother passed away. So many of my memories of the concert and some of the better songs in the performance are always going to be laced with a bitter sweetness. In fact, I was hiding my tears from Michelle and the kids when they played “Sometimes You Can’t Make it on Your Own.” I don’t think there was anything particularly resonating about the lyrics, but the song is simply beautiful and beautifully painful.

While I thoroughly respect Bono’s Christian witness--I believe he is the closest thing that we have to modern prophet--I did notice that he was noticeably silent about the war in Iraq. In fact, when the band played “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” I was looking forward to shouting out “No More! No War!” Bono has led such chants during this song at other concerts in previous years. In fact, there were times where Bono was fueling U.S. patriotism--something that was a bit unsettling to me. I got the feeling that Bono was in quite a different place. His thoughts were more turned toward Africa and his home country of Ireland, places about which he was very hopeful. In fact, Bono’s mood was one of gratitude. This grateful attitude probably emerged from the fact that last Sunday night was the 29th anniversary of the band’s initial meeting. His gratitude, however, was always reaching out toward the world through the many humanitarian causes that he represents. Appropriately the concert ended with “40,” a song and psalm that moves from thanksgiving to lament “How long to sing this song?”

I thoroughly enjoyed the concert. I was glad that I got to share it with my entire family. There are a number of things that we all like to do together. Listening to U2 is one of those things. It was great to see Stephen and Adam’s faces light up when U2 came out, to see their awe at a crowd that was so connected to the music that they enjoy. With my grandmother’s presence in her death, it really made the concert a generational affair.

Margaret Rest in Peace

My grandmother died yesterday morning. She was a giving soul and the world's best baker. I will miss her.

U2

U2 is this weekend! U2 is this weekend! Our first all-family concert is this Sunday. We are going to see U2 on their Vertigo Tour at the Bradley Center. Should be a great concert! My mom and dad never took me too a concert, and if they had, it would have probably been to see someone like Barely Manenough, I mean Barry Manilow. Thank God for multigenerational bands like U2. They were cool when I was in high school, and they are still cool now that my oldest son is a freshman.

The Authority of a Dr.

In orientation the other day, the faculty was asked what they prefer to be called in and out of the classroom. It has always struck me as interesting the responses the people give to this question and the rationale or lack of rationale that people supply for their position.

It seems to me that there are basically two positions: 1) to be called by your first name; or 2) to be called by your title, “Dr. Yamada” or “Professor Yamada.”

I prefer the first for reasons that I did not give yesterday. At Seabury, professors who decide to go by their title and last name usually feel the need to provide a rationale for their preference. The rationale makes a lot of sense: certain professors prefer to maintain appropriate boundaries between students and teachers. In an environment where faculty members are very accessible to students, and where community life often blurs role distinctions, this rationale can be an appropriate way to keep clear boundaries. I don’t agree, however, with the characterization that some of my colleagues give about the downside of calling professors by their first name, i.e., that being on a first name basis means that students and faculty are being “chummy” or too “friend-like” or “friend-ly.” This is certainly not why I prefer to be on a first name basis with my students.

For me it has to do with the nature of authority. There are different kinds of authority in the classroom, some given some earned. I am given the authority to shape the course in the ways I see fit. I walk in with that power, and I take that responsibility seriously. I also have the power to evaluate. This is non-negotiable. No matter what students call me, this authority is clear. I believe, however, that one’s authority in the classroom is also earned. My students can respect that fact that I am the professor and they are not, but that does not mean that I have earned their respect as a good, caring, and engaged teacher. I cannot make them be engaged by an act of power. I cannot make them enjoy the class. This aspect of classroom authority is earned. For me, it sets up a different environment for learning when I require students to acknowledge my authoritative status. I choose instead to earn their respect through my engagement with them, through my knowledge of the subject matter, and through my concern for them as students in the learning process. Hopefully, at the end of the course, the student will have walked away with a lived knowledge of my status as a doctor and teacher. That is, I prefer to let my teaching and teaching style dictate my qualifications as “Dr.” If I can’t earn such respect in the classroom, asking my students to call me Dr. Yamada or Prof. Yamada isn’t really worth much.

Now this is not to say that I don’t understand the position of those who prefer to be called Dr. or Prof. So and So. In the case, of many scholars of color and women, establishing this kind of authority in the classroom is vitally important, since it is a researched fact that women and scholars of color often have difficulty establishing their authority with students. Nor do I disagree with the performative aspects of this gesture in an environment where student/faculty relationships can be confusing. This is simply my personal response and rationale for being called “Frank” rather than “Dr. Yamada.” It is not simply tied to a notion that I prefer to be “friendly” with students, but is rooted in my understanding of authority and the ways in which respect is given or earned in the classroom. A rationale does not always accompany such a position. So I figured I should give one.

Katamari Damacy

My kids just rented a Play Station 2 called Katamari Damacy. It is the weirdest game ever. The point of the game is simple. You are to roll everything you see up into a big moving ball. The larger the ball, the bigger the stuff you can roll up. You start small, only being able to add small things like bushes and loose things on the sidewalk into your ball. The ball gets larger as the game progresses, to the point that you can roll up houses, large animals and sea creatures, automobiles, tractors, big trees, you name it. All the while, your ball makes noises—humans screaming and grumbling, animals mooing, neighing and barking, cars honking, etc. It is weird, obscure, and a total riot. Katamari Damacy is “pointless outrageous fun.”

Back on blog with a sermon

I'm back... Here's the sermon that I preached for the first day of orientation:

Text: Matthew 24:42-47

Are You Ready?

It’s here. The time is at hand. Are you ready? It will require of you more than you ever thought. It will push you to your very limits. It will challenge you to be more than you thought you could be; and it will often make you face a side of yourself that you never knew existed. It will ask of you to think beyond your comfortable notions of home and what home should be, to consider a world that is much larger and more complex than you ever thought imaginable—a diverse world that remains in need of God, desperate for love, hungry for compassion and understanding, in need of grace. You will encounter things and entertain thoughts that most people only think about for a fleeting moment during Christmas or Easter. In fact, you will devote countless hours of your brain power, your emotional energy, and yes, your very soul to this purpose; and there will be times when you cry out, “How long, O Lord, how long?” or “Why on earth did you choose me?” “Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore.” It’s time to wake up and smell the coffee. It’s here. The time is at hand. Are you ready? Oh, and, by the way, welcome to orientation and your first “unofficial” week of seminary.

Now, when I say, “It’s here” and “Are you ready?” I want to make clear that I am not talking about orientation or the beginning of your lives as seminarians at Seabury. Trust me, by next Friday you WILL be ready… or at the very least you will be ready for classes to start. The orientation committee has done a fine job of making sure that you will be prepared for the school years ahead. On the other hand, you will never be ready. We as the faculty will find some way, I’m sure of it, to throw you something that will keep you off balance. That’s our job. Learning always comes with some form of disorientation. New knowledge always shifts your equilibrium. That is why all schools start with “ORIENTATION.”

The “IT” to which I was referring, is not the commencement of the academic year, it’s not your own call to ministry, it’s not about the next three years of your life, though all of these things are related to “IT,” at least ideally. The “IT” that will require so much of your resources, that will require your complete devotion and attention, is the “IT” that we find in today’s gospel. Are you ready for, are you working for, are you waiting for the kingdom of heaven and the end of the age. Are you ready for Jesus to come back? Are you ready? My evangelical brothers and sisters have it all wrong. The primary question that the gospels make us ponder is not “What would Jesus do?” We know what Jesus would do. Duh! Jesus lived God’s righteousness as a human, died on a cross, was raised from the dead, ascended into heaven, and will come again to judge the living and the dead. We know what Jesus WOULD do because we know what Jesus DID. The heart of the matter, and what today’s gospel makes clear is that Jesus’ coming is soon. SO the primary question is: "What are YOU going to do?” OR better, "How are you going to be?"

Our gospel lesson makes the answer to this question very clear: BE READY. We as Christians are to be ready. But how can we be ready? Readiness is like knowing that a thief is coming in the night, and so you stay awake so that your house can’t be broken into. It means that we must be alert and focused on what is important. Being ready is like knowing that the master of the house could arrive at anytime for a surprise inspection, and so you do the work that you were called to do, and you do it with the energy and thoroughness that you would as if the boss was looking over your shoulder. Being ready requires that we focus our energies, thoughts, and commitments toward the things that matter. It requires us to faithfully apply ourselves with all of our heart, soul, mind, and strength to those things that God has entrusted to us. So that when God comes—and God comes at the times that we least expect—we will be ready and be found doing the things that God has given us to do.

There are many worries and anxieties that will seek to distract you from such purposes. Fear is not only the source of most human neuroses, it is also what derails us in that it gets us to concentrate our energies and commitments toward things that often don’t matter much in the large scheme of things. What is your fear? Fear of failure? Fear of being exposed as inadequate? Fear of being taken advantage of by systems and people more powerful than you? Fear of being alone? Whatever your fear, chances are it has the potential to distract you from the good things that God has in store for you.

As the school year begins, and soon as you find yourself increasingly busy and potentially distracted, I encourage you to remember to be ready and to apply yourselves to what God has called you to do. Don’t get caught up in the trap of thinking of seminary as a set of hoops through which you have to jump to get to your ultimate prize. Your studies ARE a spiritual discipline. Your worship and community life here IS preparation and formation for your future work in God’s ministry. Apply yourselves. Work, study, and pray as if God could return at any minute. Focus your energies on what matters—God’s love, justice, and peace. Don’t give into fear and anxiety “for God has not given us a spirit of fear, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline” (2 Tim 3:7). Remember the words of our LORD: “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and God’s righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you” (Matt 6:33). It’s here. The time is at hand. Are you ready?