Confessional Lutherans, NT Greek, and Gemütlichkeit

You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you. (John 15:16 ESV)

I'm certain that a Lutheran-- Missouri Synod-- seminary is quite unlike any other Christian seminary, for more reasons than Martin Luther (which reminds me, speaking of, that I still want a Luther bobblehead)... Honestly, I'm feeling more and more at home here (by comparison to my first two visits-- perhaps an anecdote for another post another time).

I mentioned in an earlier post how much I really like the daily chapel service. There is something about the liturgical ebb and flow, combined with the hymns that's very moving. Yes, we hear God's word, of course, but occasionally we get an excerpt from the Confessions, a short exposition of a point from Luther's Large and/or Small Catechisms. This morning was Luther's explanation of the second petition of the Lord's Prayer (Matthew 6):

Thy kingdom come.

What does this mean?--Answer.

The kingdom of God comes indeed without our prayer, of itself; but we pray in this petition that it may come unto us also.

How is this done?--Answer.

When our heavenly Father gives us His Holy Spirit, so that by His grace we believe His holy Word and lead a godly life here in time and yonder in eternity.

There are a group of high school- to college-age kids at a camp here and I often see them in their camp shirts, which has the VDMA symbol of the Reformation (Verbum Domini Manet in Aeternum -The Word of the Lord Endures Forever) on their backs... I walk out of the chapel each morning grateful for my faith...and this opportunity to learn and experience more in a place where...

...on Friday afternoons the Dean of Students himself (a pastor-- they're all pastors here, though it's hard to tell sometimes because many of the students wear clerical shirts) unlocks two beer taps after 4pm in the Student Commons area for the weekly gemutlichkeit (hospitality time, from German Gemütlichkeit). I went last Friday for a couple of beers and a cigar on the patio with some of the other summer Greek guys. It was nice (and the weather was unbelievably beautiful!)... And so, so Lutheran that I just have to smile about it.

Another aspect of taking Koine (or biblical) Greek in a Lutheran seminary is the Lutheran theology and culture that fills every crack and crevice. I enjoy hearing our Greek professor's take on the world around him/us as seen from a faith perspective! Even more elucidating is to be able to see some of the Greek grammar at work in the New Testament, such as this morning in class when we were looking at John 15:16, which reads You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you. (ESV) That Jesus says "but I chose you" (not the other way around, as some other Christians teach) is very encouraging, but even more powerful when the Greek reveals the "you" to be plural-- He is speaking to all of us. We are commanded (verse 17) to go and "bear fruit"-- the strong are help the weak, the rich are to help the poor, etc., in love.

Then the Greek word baptize showed up in our lesson for today and we had an aside to talk about the varying beliefs on how much water is necessary for Baptism (the verb we have is the same as used in the Greek at the beginning of Mark 7-- to wash, as hands, or to wash, as in a ritual)...

It's things like all of this that make this journey so interesting to me!

I gotta tell ya. I REALLY like it here!  :)

Another factoid about Ft. Wayne, the Miami tribe, and baseball...

If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. (John 15:7 ESV)

I heard on the news this morning that Ft. Wayne was the venue of the first professional baseball game played in 145 years ago. The National Association Ft. Wayne Kekiongas (see previous post) beat the Cleveland Forest Cities 2-0 on May 4, 1871. Until a few weeks ago, all I knew about Ft. Wayne was that it was the home to an LCMS seminary...

Check out this short (1:51) YouTube video!

And this Kekiongas trading card from 1871 sold for $43,500...

I may have to get a Kekiongas ballcap or shirt. I'm a fan!

(A closing thought for the day heard this on the local Christian rock station: When we pray, God always shows up; sometimes, though, He shows off!)

Heeeeeeeeere's Johnny!!

I can do all things through him who strengthens me. (Philippians 4:13 ESV)

We set out this morning around 6:30 and walked from the IPFW campus back through Johnny Appleseed Park and after some ziggin' and a-zaggin', we found ol' Johnny's grave on a hill among some apple trees. (We discovered that it would have been easier to get to him from the Ft. Wayne Coliseum parking lot.) Mystery solved (see June 18 post), among the many in the Whose-yer-daddy state...

A more local mystery is that of the name of the street on which we live. The U.S. Postal Service and our lease agreement call it Paccanne Ct. (two c's). The sign has one. Google Earth and all of it's GPS spiderlings have Pacanne Ct. (one c). Who's correct?

Well, yesterday evening while out on the patio decompressing from the end of my 2nd week as a Greek student, I looked up the name on the street sign. It seems that all of the street names in this complex have something to do with the Miami Nation that occupied territory that is now Indiana, southwest Michigan, and western Ohio. Pacanne was an 18th century Miami chief. The first street, Kinzie, must be named for John Kinzie, a late 18th century fur trader and liaison with the Miami people centered in the village of Kekionga. The next street beyond ours is Pickawillany, which was a prominent Miami trading post on the Miami river (to the southeast of Ft. Wayne), and the last beyond that is Vicennes, which is probably misspelled (betcha the post office and the lease office both gave it an third n) because...

The connector street that runs through the complex is Bissot, named most likely for Jean Baptiste Bissot, Sieur de Vincennes, for whom the city of Vincennes (on the Wabash River bordering Illinois) is named; Vincennes, according to Wikipedia, was a Canadian soldier, explorer, and friend to the Miami Nation, to whom Ft. Wayne owes its existence because...

Kekionga (meaning "blackberry bush") or Pacan(ne)'s Village, was the capital of the Miami tribe. It was located at the confluence of the Saint Joseph, Saint Marys and Maumee rivers on the western edge of the Great Black Swamp, an important portage connecting Lake Erie to the Wabash and Mississippi rivers. Ft. Wayne was founded here in 1794.

By 1841 the Wabash-Erie Canal was in operation between Ft. Wayne and Logansport. In 1853 the Canal was completed southwestward from Ft. Wayne to the Ohio River. By that time its need had vanished because railroad building had begun.

Our Saturday walks take us along a section of the now barely recognizable 7-mile feeder that brought water from the St. Joseph River down to the Wabash-Erie Canal, laid out to run from near present-day Shoaff Park (the starting point for our first two walks) to the summit of the main canal, 198 feet above the level of Lake Erie (790 feet above sea level), the high point of the great geological depression or trough formed in the last ice age marking the Continental Divide between the rivers that eventually run to the Atlantic (the Maumee) and those (the Wabash) that empty at last into the Gulf of Mexico. Ft. Wayne is nicknamed "The Summit City" because of this (it's also known as "The City of Churches"-- there are more than 350 in the city limits!). The feeder was begun in 1832 and was dug along the length of the western bank of the St. Joseph River (the trench can be seen clearly today in Johnny Appleseed Park).

It's all very interesting...and very confusing at the same time! (Like Greek!)

And the mysteries keep coming... (Just like Greek assignments...)

(Speaking of Greek, at the end of two weeks I have a 91 average. Not bad, but could be better.)

(Philippians 4:13)

οἱ πρῶτοι ἁπόστολοι καὶ...

 Ἐν  ἀρχῇ  ἦν  ὁ  Λόγος,  καὶ  ὁ  Λόγος  ἦν  πρὸς  τὸν  Θεόν,  καὶ  Θεὸς  ἦν  ὁ  Λόγος. (John 1:1)

...έ̓σχατοι προφῆται κηρύσσουσι τὸ εὐανγγέλιον τῷ κόσμῳ. This used to be Greek to me! We started Chapter 6 of the textbook, which is adjectives and articles and when I turned to the Greek-to-English practice sentences in the homework assignment, Lo and Behold! I could read them!

So this is actually the first full sentence I've ever read in Koine Greek in my life without a dictionary:

οἱ πρῶτοι ἁπόστολοι καὶ έ̓σχατοι προφῆται κηρύσσουσι τὸ εὐανγγέλιον τῷ κόσμῳ.  (The first apostles and the last prophets proclaim the Gospel to the world.)

I'm starting to get the hang of the pesky accenting rules, long or short syllables, verb paradigms, noun declensions, and diphthongs (particularly those "improper" ones)... 

However. I've been a Greek student for less than two weeks. Better restrain myself, since this textbook has 42 chapters-- meaning there are still 36 left over the next 8½ weeks!

We've already had three quizzes and I'm on a downward trend... 100, 98, 89 (that was because of two stupid errors-- I mixed up two Present Indicative Middle verb forms and left the little doohickey off the letter omega in a word...omega is that last letter in the last word in the Greek above). We had a quiz on verbs today that I think I did well on, so maybe I can reverse the trend.

So things are moving along at a pretty good clip in my Greek class. As I mentioned in an earlier post, my professor is a trip, so really, there's rarely a dull moment. And half the battle STILL is just keeping up with the concepts and workload each day.

Oh yeah, the professor's English from Greek word of the day today was one with three Greek roots: xenoglossophobia. As in, foreign language anxiety (or xenoglossophobia) is the feeling of unease, worry, nervousness and apprehension experienced when learning or using a second or foreign language. I wonder why he chose that particular word?

I suffer from a wholly unrelated malady that's been bothersome since I took one look at the Greek alphabet. The Russian alphabet has Greek letters, English letters that sound like English, and English letters that sound different than their English counterparts. Greek has the same letters as some Russian ones, as well as some that sound look and sound like English. So I have had a melange of letters swirling about in my head; the other day I found myself writing a "C" (s sound in Russian) for the Greek Σ (sigma - s sound, which has a lower case equivalent that looks sort of like an s in English). It's crazy!

(I really don't know how God does it with every language ever spoken...but He's God. As for me, I can add one more language that I'm illiterate in.)

I'm enjoying it, though. And am still excited about being able to read a whole sentence in Greek all by myself!

Woo-hoo! 

Where’s Wal...er...Colby?

“A lie is like a cat: You need to stop it before it gets out the door or it’s really hard to catch.” —Charles M. Blow (NY Times columnist)

The night before last we went to a ballgame and when we returned we let in our cat, Colby, who had been outside all day. He went right to the food bowl and then back to the patio door, so I let him back out before we went to bed around 10pm. In the morning when we got up, he was nowhere to be found (sort of like Johnny Appleseed-- see previous post). When we returned from our Death March (see previous post), still no Colby, so we wandered along the walking path that skirts a good-sized wooded area about 20 yards from our patio door and couldn't find him. I went back outside to look again before we left to run errands and I heard a squirrel chattering down the path a ways-- sure enough, Colby was the object of the chatter, sitting on a fallen tree out of arm's reach just looking at me (so I snapped the pic shown and texted it back to Carole so she would know a wolverine didn't get him-- he's in there, look closely). I stepped into the tangle brush, vines, tree limbs, and other assorted flora (along with some assorted fauna...mostly bugs like these annoying little white-ish moths that are everywhere and a few daddy long legs, as well as something ground level that screeched at me; not a glimpse of the much ballyhooed wolf spider*-- we have an uber-arachnophobic neighbor who swears that they come out of the forest, attracted to the porch lights which she advised we keep turned off) then realized he was too far away, so I retreated... I figured he'd eventually make his way back to his food bowl.
*since we moved in, I've only seen one wolf spider that was making his way across out patio while we were sitting out one evening (it was still light out); when I stood up to go look at him, he stopped an looked at me as wolf spiders do, then continued on without so much as a how-ya-doin'...

At dusk last night we went back to the same place and there he was-- I had a failing flashlight and tried to light the way as Carole went in after him, but he moved and was getting too dark...

We decided to leave the patio door open enough for him to slip through when we went off to bed last night. When we got up this morning, no Colby, nor any sign he'd been inside. I was up first so I put on some clothes and went back to the same place, and there he was, curled up on the same tree trunk. He didn't react much (as is his nature) as I clambered in to get him. When I reached for the nape of his neck he looked almost relieved (for a cat, I mean) and didn't wriggle at all when I carried him out through the brush and back to the house, where he is now. Personally, I don't think he had an exit strategy... (Or perhaps he forgot where he lives... Who knows?)

Many residents of the compound walk dogs on the path along the woods, so I wonder if he got spooked by one and found a secure place to wait it out (which could be days in cat time)... One occasion we kept my mother's large golden retriever at our house in Texas for an extended stay and Colby went up a tree and just stayed there for quite awhile-- when we tried to entice him down he'd look at us most stoically, as though he'd damned-well never seen us before.

Anyway. There's calm again on the homefront. I haven't heard "But he's just a little guy!" in the last 12 hours...

Amen.

A most elusive American legend...

"Pray as you can, not as you can't." (quote attributed to John Chapman aka Johnny Appleseed)

We went looking for Johnny Appleseed this morning during our Saturday 6-mile Volksmarsch (or Death March, as I've come to refer to it). We made it beyond our the hotel were we stayed when we arrived, a little farther south along the St. Joseph river, to Johnny Appleseed Memorial Park where the man himself is said to be buried... We looked around but couldn't find him. I did an Internet search which revealed that we were close when we were in the park, but it's a grave site not easily found. I guess we'll have to try again next week!

The Internet also revealed that Johnny was a Swedenborgianist, a neo-Christian. From Wikipedia: According to Harper's New Monthly Magazine [in 1871], toward the end of his career, he was present when an itinerant missionary was exhorting an open-air congregation in Mansfield, Ohio. The sermon was long and severe on the topic of extravagance, because the pioneers were buying such indulgences as calico and imported tea. "Where now is there a man who, like the primitive Christians, is traveling to heaven barefooted and clad in coarse raiment?" the preacher repeatedly asked until Johnny Appleseed, his endurance worn out, walked up to the preacher, put his bare foot on the stump that had served as a podium, and said, "Here's your primitive Christian!" The flummoxed sermonizer dismissed the congregation...

He would tell stories to children and spread The New Church gospel to the adults, receiving a floor to sleep on for the night, and sometimes supper, in return. "We can hear him read now, just as he did that summer day, when we were busy quilting upstairs, and he lay near the door, his voice rising denunciatory and thrillin—strong and loud as the roar of wind and waves, then soft and soothing as the balmy airs that quivered the morning-glory leaves about his gray beard. His was a strange eloquence at times, and he was undoubtedly a man of genius," reported a lady who knew him in his later years.

The legends about Johnny Appleseed are many, including where he's actually buried. Oh well. The closest thing to the man, the myth, the Tincaps' mascot we've seen, so far, is, well, Johnny, the Tincaps' mascot, at the ballgame last night (by the way, Single A baseball is not too far removed from high school baseball, $7 draft beers excepted).

So the search continues...

We'll find him yet.

Week 1 of 10 weeks in the Attic...

Whew! I've made it through Week 1 of the seminary's "Greek Boot Camp"!

We've already had two quizzes-- the first on the Koine Greek (also known as Alexandrian dialect, common Attic or Hellenistic Greek) alphabet and English parts of speech, the second, today, on verb conjugations ("paradigms," as they're called in Greek instruction). I got a 100 on the first, waiting on the second (but I think that one should be a 100, too, or very close). We left class today with noun declensions... Holy moly! That's 4 chapters of the text book in about as many days.

The back story to my very presence in a Lutheran Church - Missouri Synod seminary Greek class would take too long to parse out, really (as colorfully unorthodox-- pun sort of intended-- as it is), but if you know me and the story, you know also that God has made all the necessary arrangements; some of the bridges I crossed were not always pleasant, and many I could not understand at the time.

Today another one of those "God things" happened again-- seriously; maybe they've been happening all along and I'm becoming more aware...

My professor (I'm hesitant to mention names in this blog for privacy reasons, but...well, read on), who I have already mentioned previously, is the next character in this Ft. Wayne chapter of my life. Today he passed out a copy of a paper he wrote that was published (every seminary professor is "published") in LOGIA (an "American Medical Journal" of Lutheran articles) in 2012 entitled Teaching Greek at the Seminary. I read it at lunch (there's actually a quiz on it next week). For me it was an epiphany! If you'd like a closer look at what I'm going through (and why), please read it (it's somewhat verbiforous, to use one of his classroom words...) (I caught "nugatory" the other day...). Here's the intro:

I have had the privilege of leaching beginning Greek at Concordia Theological Seminary since fall 2006 — most often, though not always, to men who have not studied Greek before, and quite often have not studied a foreign language before. Compared to undergraduate Greek learners, seminary students are more highly motivated to learn and typically do everything within their powers to learn and master Greek. Many students have given up earlier careers in lucrative professions, sold houses, cars, or entire businesses (sometimes at a loss) to come to seminary, and will now subsist at a lower standard of living than previously. Now they are here, with all their strengths and weaknesses, and the only thing standing between them and formal theological study is the ten-week Greek class.

The entire situation is fraught with danger. For example, what if the student sells his house in good faith, moves with his wife and family to Fort Wayne, tries to begin a new life here —but just cannot learn Greek? This has happened...

He regularly cracks me up in class, but he's as serious about teaching Greek as I was about teaching Russian; however, he has a slightly different ulterior motive as relates to the vocation of ministry.

He's also famous (or, perhaps, infamous) around campus for another published article called A Lutheran Goes to Rome about a trip he made to Rome some years ago to study Latin where it was spoken. He regaled us in class this morning with an abridged tale of a Catholic monk he studied under while he was there... No matter how much of either article you read, you have to meet him face to face for full effect.

I'm really enjoying studying Greek, but, brother, the professor moves at a frequency only dogs can hear!

Anyway. It's Friday! No Greek until Sunday, just like my DLI days when I was learning Russian... Tonight we're headed downtown to see the Ft. Wayne Tincaps do battle with the Bowling Green Hot Rods-- a little Single A baseball action to decompress! Sunday I'll pick up where I left off; we were promised another quiz (this time noun declensions) on Monday...

It's Friday!! Go Tincaps!!

So, who died and made YOU judge?

One of the Pharisees asked him to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee's house and reclined at the table. And behold, a woman of the city, who was a sinner, when she learned that he was reclining at table in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabaster flask of ointment, and standing behind him at his feet, weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears and wiped them with the hair of her head and kissed his feet and anointed them with the ointment. Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what sort of woman this is who is touching him, for she is a sinner.” And Jesus answering said to him, “Simon, I have something to say to you.” And he answered, “Say it, Teacher.” 

“A certain moneylender had two debtors. One owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. When they could not pay, he cancelled the debt of both. Now which of them will love him more?” Simon answered, “The one, I suppose, for whom he cancelled the larger debt.” And he said to him, “You have judged rightly.” Then turning toward the woman he said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not ceased to kiss my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little.” And he said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.” Then those who were at table with him began to say among themselves, “Who is this, who even forgives sins?” And he said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.” 

Soon afterward he went on through cities and villages, proclaiming and bringing the good news of the kingdom of God. And the twelve were with him, and also some women who had been healed of evil spirits and infirmities: Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out, and Joanna, the wife of Chuza, Herod's household manager, and Susanna, and many others, who provided for them out of their means. (Luke 7:36-8:3 ESV)

(No, Jesus is not the right answer, Caiaphas.)

This post is dedicated to those sanctimonious, self-aggrandizing "Christians" who spit fire and brimstone in a world full (FULL, I tell you) of scoffLaws (upper case L intentional).

I got up this morning, padded to the front door, picked up the newspaper, stopped by the coffee pot, then sat down in front of the news on tv and started to thumb through the first section. On page 3 the following headline gave me a spiritual sucker punch: Pastor praises killing of 'sodomites' Here's an excerpt from this story carried by the Washington Post...

Following the deadliest shooting in U.S. history, a preacher stood at his pulpit Sunday night in Northern California and delivered an impassioned sermon praising the brutal massacre at a gay nightclub in Florida.

Pastor Roger Jimenez from Verity Baptist Church in Sacramento told his congregation that Christians “shouldn’t be mourning the death of 50 sodomites.”

“People say, like: ‘Well, aren’t you sad that 50 sodomites died?’ ” Jimenez said, referencing the initial death toll in Orlando, which authorities later clarified included 49 victims plus the gunman. “Here’s the problem with that. It’s like the equivalent of asking me — what if you asked me: ​’Hey, are you sad that 50 pedophiles were killed today?’

“Um, no, I think that’s great. I think that helps society. You know, I think Orlando, Fla., is a little safer tonight.”

He added: “The tragedy is that more of them didn’t die. The tragedy is — I’m kind of upset that he didn’t finish the job!”

The sermon has drawn scorn from faith leaders, gay rights activists and others who have called it “hateful propaganda” and “bigotry.”

“I condemn his entire presentation,” the Rev. Samuel Rodriguez, a leading Christian conservative and president of the National Hispanic Christian Leadership Conference, told Sacramento Bee columnist Marcos Breton.

Jay Brown, spokesman for the Human Rights Campaign, told The Washington Post that there is “nothing whatsoever Christian” in the pastor’s sermon.

“He’s preaching hate from the pulpit,” Brown said in a statement. “His words offer no comfort to the survivors of the attack, to the family and friends whose loved ones they’ll never see again.

“And to think of the LGBTQ youth in his own church, it’s simply heartbreaking.”

Members of the LGBT community are not allowed to join Verity Baptist or attend its services, according to the church’s “What We Believe” page. It states the church believes “sodomy” — referring to homosexuality — is “a sin and an abomination before God​ which God punishes with the death penalty.”

“I wish the government would round them all up, put them up against a firing wall, put a firing squad in front of them, and blow their brains out,” Jimenez said during his Sunday sermon, which Verity Baptist posted on its website under the title “the Christian response to the Orlando murders.”

There's plenty more (if that excerpt isn't enough), including mention of a pastor in Arizona with the same message...

I drove to seminary in a pouring rain this morning with a heavy heart over the mess we've made of the Christian Church. It's one thing to be a firebrand for the Lord, but a true Christian spreads a Gospel message of love, not hate; of hope and forgiveness, not despair and judgment. And before any self-proclaimed Christian preaches wrath for another's sin, he ought to look in the mirror. There was only one sinless human to ever walk this earth and He walked as a humble and obedient servant, not a finger-pointing judge (see Matthew 7:1-2). When I read that article in the paper, it made my stomach turn.

I thanked God that I'm in seminary today; the world just wears me down sometimes. But this Post article is just another reminder that apologetics is so important-- I feel for the people who have no church connection and learn about Christ and Christians from media outlets.

We attend chapel every morning and today's message was wrapped around those verses above from Luke's Gospel. We were reminded of our proclivity to judge at times-- and God knows this, which is why He sent us Jesus. Within each of us is a Pharisee just waiting for an opening...you know, when the compass turns south from G(od) to M(e). When our spiritual/moral compass fails us (as it does from time to time) the only reliable navigational aid is Christ. And the path back to God is Love.

It's that simple. Love.

Sin is God's business and the Cross took care of it...

I feel better when I leave a chapel service, re-reminded that God's in control. And that at the seminary there is strength in numbers...

It's such a good place to be!  :)

We are the Pod people (Epilogue)...

"Whoever thinks that he can find one error in Holy Scripture does not believe in Holy Scripture but in himself; for even if he accepted everything else as true, he would believe it not because Scripture says so but because it agrees with his reason or with his sentiments." (1868 quote from CFW Walther, “The Martin Luther of America” andfirst president of the LCMS)

This morning the Pod returned to the mothership... I guess we can say we are officially moved-in now!

Well, Day 1 at the sem wasn't too bad. We met my Greek professor yesterday evening at the ice cream social, so I sort of had an idea of what to expect. The guy's a hoot-- and he's been at it for a while (he said we're his 20th Basic Greek class). There are 25 students altogether, one of which is female. Most of the students are young guys who took pre-seminary courses in college, including Greek. I'm not really sure why they are taking it again (unless they couldn't pass the Greek entrance exam, which is why I'm taking it-- but I've never studied the language before...). There are a few old guys like me. The first classmate I met this morning turned out to be about my age, from Tennessee, married 29 years (with 5 grandkids already!), and is already ordained under a similar program I began back in 2005. (And the first church they visited here was the same one we did; the second one was the one we'll visit on Sunday...)

I guess I over-prepared myself for this course. Today we started at ground zero-- the Greek alphabet and English parts of speech. Oh well. Better than being under-prepared, eh?

One of the more meaningful parts of the seminary day is the morning chapel service ("Morning Hours") at 9:35. The pointed, pyramid-shaped building in the pic above is the chapel, designed by Finn Eero Saarinen (who also designed the St. Louis Arch, among other projects), and is second on the list of Wired.com's Divine Photos of America's Most Epic Churches. It's an acoustic masterpiece-- to be part of the nearly all-male voices singing during the service is very moving! The pointy object to the left is the bell tower.

[click to enlarge]

The campus is not large by comparison to most major college campuses, but it's a very idyllic place in most respects (designed, I believe, by the architect to resemble a pseudo-Scandinavian village). It opened for business in 1957, but has been training men and women for ministry in its present form since 1976 (one of two LCMS seminaries-- the other in St. Louis) . The St. Joseph river runs along the east side of the campus (behind the line of trees near the top of the aerial photo).

So I'm officially ID-ed now and processed in and am excited to have finally set the wheels in motion... I'm not much into academia (some folks make a lifetime of it); however, I really feel like I belong here!

Time for homework now. Maybe after I finish my wife will let me go outside and play before dinner...

A Worship Service 180

"...there should be proper lenity on the part of bishops to bear with us by reason of the Confession which we have now reviewed; because even the Canons are not so severe as to demand the same rites everywhere, neither, at any time, have the rites of all churches been the same*; although, among us, in large part, the ancient rites are diligently observed." (Augsburg Confession, Art. XXI, 1530)

Well, I can't believe we've been here in Ft. Wayne for a week already!  (Where does the time go?)

We visited a new church for worship this morning, an 8 o'clock service (the start of which was tolled on a large brass bell in the narthex), chatted with an usher for a few minutes, met the pastor, then found a pew (honestly, I didn't see the kneelers when we sat down). After being a part of a growing and vibrant 500+ congregation back in Texas, we felt as though we had made a 180° turn in worship style; the first thing I noticed when we entered the sanctuary was the hymn boards. I love the Lutheran liturgy (I'm ambivalent about some of those loooong hymns, though); however, I find using the LSB (Lutheran Service Book) to be distracting with all the page-turning. Beyond the pastor's mic, I noticed no use of technology-- I guess some Lutherans are for it or against it. The pastor led the service from start to finish, moving from altar to lectern to a pulpit situated squarely in the center of the altar area, nearly a floor above pews. I don't know if there's any theological or ecumenical significance to its particular location (I may run that by my Greek professor this evening), but a pastor shouldn't appear to be sitting in judgment (like in a courtroom). It was a genuinely authentic Missouri Synod-style worship service, no doubt, but for me that worship style is too formatted. (And the pastor used the archaic thee instead of you during the benediction...for effect?)

All in all, it was just a style of service we're not used to. The last time I had to use a pew kneeler was, I believe, before I became a confirmed member. (And once, when our eldest daughter who's now 27 was a toddler, we were sitting in the back row of a huge Lutheran church in Maryland...my wife brought the kneeler down on my ingrown toenail-- I remember the pain was so great that I nearly started speaking in tongues...I think I may have cried out the name of the Lord, as well...) A love for kneelers must also reside in the no-to-technology camp.

We found another close-by congregation to visit, this one a come-as-you-are, contemporary worship church that one would not deduce to be in any way Lutheran from their website. In fact, the only use of "Lutheran" and ties with the LCMS are in this blurb from the About page, on which states that they are a Christian church. We have been established for 20 years. The church is a member of the Lutheran Church Missouri Synod. This link will take you to the LCMS Beliefs and Practice page of their website. Here you can find great detail what the church declares it believes and its structure. Had I not looked around, I would have categorized this congregation as a Seeker Church. [a quick aside to Pastor Jon, who may or may not read this: this church website reminds me of our conversations before we left Texas]

But I'm looking forward to another new worship experience! Who knows? (Well, besides God, but that question is rhetorical anyway...) Looks like the pendulum will swing back the other way (and then some)...and I figure that at least I'll be much more familiar with the music! (And, I look forward to meeting the pastor, who is a Ft. Wayne seminary graduate himself, though one would be hard-pressed to deduce that, as well, from his hipster website-- where his book is for sale-- and blog.) (I feel like I'm going to church to meet a celebrity next Sunday!)

Another worship 180! Another character in the saga maybe? You'll have to stay tuned to find out!

*At the heart of Martin Luther’s reformation of the Church were his reforms in worship. Although the specific dogmas we associate with Roman Catholicism today were not officially canonized until the Counsel of Trent in 1554-1563, many of the Roman Church’s heresy was already developed by the early 1500s. For example, the doctrine of purgatory came in 593, prayer to Mary, saints, and angels in 600, kissing the pope’s foot in 709, the canonization of dead saints in 995, the celibacy of the priesthood in 1079, the rosary in 1090, transubstantiation and confessing sins to a priest in 1215, and the seven sacraments in 1439. Thus was the ecclesiastical culture into which Martin Luther was born. (from religiousaffections.org)

St. Joe

"Atheism is the vice of a few intelligent persons, and superstition is the vice of fools." --Voltaire

This morning I was wrenched out of the rack at dawn's early light to go check out a park near the seminary, about 2 or 3 miles away. We drove over, parked, and started walking along a trail-- 2 hours later we made it back. This particular park is situated along the St. Joseph river (St. Joe to the Hoosiers), and we walked along it, through the campus of Indiana-Purdue U. Fort Wayne, a good 2+ miles each way. It was scenic and we ended up at the Holiday Inn where we stayed last Sunday night. (We purt near made it to Johnny Appleseed Memorial Park, but the 6-lane highway in front of the hotel was too daunting...)

Later on, after the washer and dryer had been delivered and hooked up (I'm getting clean BVDs as I write this), we ventured out for a bite at a restaurant around the corner named Casa Grille, which we thought was Mexican-- turned out to be Italian... Nice place, confusing name notwithstanding.

Anyway, back to St. Joe. From Wikipedia:

The St. Joseph River is an 86.1-mile-long tributary of the Maumee River in northwestern Ohio, and northeastern Indiana in the United States, with headwater tributaries rising in southern Michigan. It drains a primarily rural farming region in the watershed of Lake Erie. It shares its name with the St. Joseph River of Lake Michigan, but the two rivers flow in generally opposite directions.

Everything around here has a "3 River" twist to it (yet we've only seen one, so far). The St. Joe, St. Marys, and Maumee rivers converge in Ft. Wayne. (see pic)

And my wife has a place to run now. There are plenty of paths in and near that park-- she can even get onto the seminary grounds pretty easily from the path we were on this morning.

As for the packing, we're making good progress. The place looks more and more like home with every emptied box!

Tomorrow we try a new church and then head over to the seminary after dinner for a Summer Greek ice cream social... Then Monday class begins... Woo-hoo!

James the Wine Steward, Mitch the MMOTY, & Rod the Recycling Guy...or...

Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. (Galatians 6:2 ESV)

...We are the Pod people (Part 3)...

Yesterday was a pretty good day-- in our travels about running errands, we found habañero cheese (one of my staples) and crossed paths with James the Wine Steward at the inexplicably ginormous Kroger around the corner. James is in charge of all the beers (great selection!) and wines-- he's the first grocery store wine/beer guy I've ever met. (Once upon a time, boys and girls, I too was a wine guy, but part-time and at a liquor store, a position through which a Russian language Bible study came about, but that's a story for another post, another day).  Anyway, James is yet another character on this side of the looking glass...

I was also able to get my bird feeder up yesterday evening (pictured, though I hate to post a pic of me-- but it is a way cool feeder!; see No more pencils, no more books...) and we grilled steaks for dinner.

Today we found a church to try on Sunday (that, according to their website, supports a Siberian ministry-- the church building itself looks sort of post-modern neo-Orthodox-- we couldn't go inside to look around, but I can't help but wonder if this is another one of those "God things"...).

When we went to the compound office to get our keys on Monday, we met Mitch the Maintenance Man of the Year (no joke or hyperbole-- he's up for State MMOTY!) who patrols the grounds in his Kawaski Mule (souped-up golf cart). What a nice guy! He helped me manhandle a heavy and uncooperative armoire from the Pod to our living room. This morning we were chatting (our front light isn't working) and I learned that while he was separated from his wife (geographically and matrimonially), she overdosed on heroine. The week after her burial, his 21-year old daughter was killed in a car accident. But what faith he exudes in spite (or because) of it all! Seems I'm not the only guy who scratches his head over God's business from time to time... Mitch lives here in the compound with his 12-year old daughter (and he also has two married sons in another state). Very positive guy, considering his past...

Then...we drove by a recycling outpost (trailer and some bins) about two blocks away, so I hauled off some empty boxes and met the sole attendant sitting peacefully in what appeared to be a large cubbie, Rod the Recycling Guy. Rod and I brought God into our conversation on my last haul. Rod told me he had been a pastor at Calvary Chapel Ministries (non-denominational, pre-tribulational rapture church) in Florida, but had to resign because of divorce. He had to move up here because his mother is in hospice care. He said his job is lonely, but it's 40 hours a week. I found out he grew up a few minutes south of here and has two brothers in the area. Anyway. He sort of unburdened himself on me and I told him I could totally relate to that feeling of not knowing where you are supposed to be/go, what you are supposed to do, and why whatever is happening to you is happening to you. I've been there.

I asked Rod if I could pray for him and there we were, two old dudes in an abandoned department store parking lot, hand-on-shoulder-- it was awesome! Honestly, like Mitch and James, Rod is another character in my ongoing saga, but meeting him was the best thing that happened to me all day! (Yeah, another "God thing"...I'm starting to feel as though my cup runneth over...)

Who will be the next character in the next scene?  Stay tuned!

I don't know whom tomorrow holds, but I do know what-- washer and dryer delivery. And not a moment too soon, as we're running out of clean clothes!

I just have to say it again: Yea, God!

We are the Pod people (Part 2)...

Giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ; (Ephesians 5:20 ESV)

Well, we (wife, cat, and I) made it to Ft. Wayne, got our keys to the new place about 3 miles from the seminary, and have been getting the lay of the land for the last 3 days... Today the Pod will return and we will have a couch and a few chairs to sit on. Our community (hereinafter referred to as the compound) has 4 or 5 cul-de-sac streets of single level, attached "apartment homes" opened in 2015; ours is a 2 bedroom, 2 bath, 2-car garage unit that reminds me of base housing in the Navy (but newer). It's quite a contrast to the 4-bedroom house we left in Texas! But we wanted to downsize, and downsize we did...

As we (wife and I) wandered around the area, more than once a local responded to our disclosure that we'd just moved here with "Why?" (One girl kept calling Ft. Wayne "Ft. Weird.") I don't know how weird this city is, but it is very Midwest in appearance, from the highway designs to the architecture. (And in this part of the state everything is either Hoosier-- duh-- or Lutheran...hospitals, healthcare, plumbers, you name it.)

Yesterday we ventured into downtown Ft. Wayne to visit Parkview Field where the Single A Tincaps play-- it's quite the nice ballpark! Sort of reminds me of a single level Camden Yards. We ate lunch on the patio of a pub that backs up to the open concourse and picked up a few fan items at the team store (see pic). It was a beautiful day, sunny and cool-- very comfortable, indeed! (The downtown area is kind of Ft. Worth-esque.)

We also stopped by a few offices at the seminary to say hello and then popped into the bookstore (I wanted to get a shirt, but ended up with a ballcap)... My wife pointed out the Martin Luther bobbleheads but then vetoed my purchase requisition (on the spot). Maybe Santa Claus will put one in my stocking. ;) ;)

So today we will unload the Pod, tomorrow and Saturday continue to sort out whatever it was we put into it two weeks ago, then Sunday we'll head out to church (we're going to visit a congregation about 2 miles north of us) and finish out the day at an ice cream social at the seminary for my Greek class. Then Monday I begin again as a bona fide student (I haven't been a full-time student since I was at the Defense Language Institute in 1990...26 years ago!), most likely the oldest in the class. But I'm excited and ready to get busy!

As the dust settles here in the compound, I will try to post more frequently.

So far, so good. Yea, God!

From acorns to walnuts...

Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them: if prophecy, in proportion to our faith; if service, in our serving; the one who teaches, in his teaching; (Romans 12:6-7 ESV)

Left - 2001, right - 2016

Today is the 2nd day of June. As I begin this post, I'm sitting at my desk in my classroom at school at 6am, Never Alone by BarlowGirl blasting from my speakers, contemplating the day ahead... I'm here WAY earlier than I have to be on an in-service day, but my trusty pickup truck is getting a pre-1,000-miles-to-Ft. Wayne check-up, so I caught a ride with my friend and colleague, Karl, who arrives every day-- in-service or any other-- way earlier than he has to.

I'm dedicating this post to Karl, who has been a true friend and confidant over the last few years of my now defunct teaching career. I'll never forget the morning I broke down in his office because we couldn't find my youngest daughter after her wrecked car had been found by the police early one morning (perhaps the longest 10 hours of my life). It seems like a lifetime ago now; a lot of life (and at least two knee replacement surgeries) has happened between then and now. I have been truly blessed to have such a friend and Christian brother to work with...

While we were driving in this morning, I was thinking back over my 15 years as a teacher, starting as the sole English as a Second Language teacher at the sole high school in our district (we've since grown to eight high school campuses). During that time I've taught freshman and junior English, junior and senior AP English, pre-college accelerated English, creative writing, Russian 1-4 + AP, and surveys of Russian history and 19th century Russian authors. I've coached a high school spelling team for academic competition, sponsored a multicultural club, Russian club, literary magazine, Scrabble club, and NOOMA videos Christian club. And for the last three years I've been a high school bowling coach. And I haven't aged a bit! (see picture...okay, maybe just a wee bit...)

If you read my post from yesterday you might remember the acorns metaphor (I used the preposterous and precocious $5 adjective balaniferous...). Any teachers you talk to will inevitably use the word nuts to describe themselves, other teachers, students, administration, the system, etc. In keeping with the nuts motif, I've decided that a teaching career is like a walnut.

(a walnut, you say? hmm. peculiar...)

Yes, a walnut.

Walnuts are good eatin', but it takes determination, drive, and, well, some skill to get into one. The anticipation (or hunger) of what's inside kind of makes it all worth the effort. Such is the cycle of teaching year after year-- new students and a fresh outlook every August, the anticipation of what awaits inside the shell, so to speak. Each shell contains an uncountable number of opportunities to impact a young life. When the year is over...no, when 15 years of teaching high school kids of all shapes, sizes, colors, ethnicity, religions, and ability is over, all that's left are the shards of a broken shell that held the promise of new school years, new faces, and new goals...

The time has come. I'm out of walnuts... At least for the time being.

My wife has assures me that my bowl won't stay empty long. There are (hahahaha) enough nuts to go around in every vocation...

Lastly, you should know that the Greek word for walnut, I've discovered, is καρυδιά (kari-dee-AH), which is interesting because this word is supposedly derived from a word meaning "causing headache" (providing even more walnuts-teaching metaphor fodder.) This cool new vocab word καρυδιά (#34, I think) reminds me that I've still go a few chapters of Greek to go through before beginning my first class (as a walnut, I suppose; however, my professor's going to need one honkin' large-caliber, industrial-size nutcracker).

By this time the day after tomorrow, we should be somewhere in Arkansas. Can't wait!

No more pencils, no more books...

On hearing this, they were baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus. And when Paul had laid his hands on them, the Holy Spirit came on them, and they began speaking in tongues and prophesying. (Acts 19:5-6 ESV)

...no more students' dirty looks...

Yes, brothas an' sistas, today is not only the last day of school on the academic calendar, it's The Last Day of School for yours truly, the end of my day job (that everyone's been telling me all my life not to give up). Two more (well, one and some change) contract days and the teacher becomes the student (I'm pretty sure, though, that's it's supposed to be the other way around)...

I'd be remiss if I didn't share an end-of-year email that almost brought me to tears, the cool bird feeder pictured, the hug I got this morning from a struggling senior I helped across the finish line-- an 18-year old otherwise very reserved Hispanic boy (took me totally by surprise!), and the parting tract from a well-meaning kid on "the baptism of the Holy Ghost."  I must liken this vocation and my relationship with the students to having a pet-- today has the same pall about it as the day you act on the decision to euthanize a four-legged family member (not that I'm implying euthanasia for high school students...no, wait...maybe for a few...). It's sad, but I know that leaving is still the right thing to do... I don't regret my decision to resign at all, but, damn. They grow on you...

I don't really know what to say...thanks for everything. You've done a lot for me, more than you know. I remember my first year of Russian. I made a whole bunch of Russian greetings and spread them around my house, trying so hard to remember each word I think I made my parents go insane. I remember when you first started talking to me. You told me you thought I hated you because I made my Twitter name MyRussianTeacherIsEvil. I also remember our first dialogue and how "well" that went, but instead of telling me how bad I was you told me to have confidence in myself. And then, at the end of the year, out of all the talented students you could have picked, you picked me. Honestly, I still have a hard time understanding why. Even still I have a hard time understanding why you love me so much as a student. My confidence is still something to laugh at, but recently I've notice something. I have something to look forward to. My whole life I've never had something I've in passionate about, or interested in that wasn't a screen. For the first time I have something I want to do, something to think about in the future. I've never went as far as planning something for tomorrow and now I think that maybe, just maybe, I can do something with my life. I'm not sure whether it will be Russian or not, but that tiny bit of hope has gotten me so far. I've made friends, actual friends that are willing to help me through anything. I've been able to think beyond what I've always been told I just was. I'm even getting a job this summer in plan for college. I know that all of this seems to be a stretch, but just having one thing that I can wake up to and say "I can't wait to do this today" is all that I ever needed. So really all I can say is thank you. And l'm really going to miss you. I know this is a huge jumble of words but I hope you get what I'm trying to say. Best wishes...

When I read that email, I was dumbfounded. See what I mean? They grow on you!

The students who pooled their shekels to buy me the bird feeder also totally surprised me. Most of them were on my high school bowling team. Yes, Z*, my students always find out more about me than I would like, but they feed on ferreting out the face behind the mask of the superhero... Any little nugget of a teacher's personal life that lends itself to street cred (okay, so bird watching isn't the best example...) can help bridge a relationship with a kid. Anyway, I think it's one of the most thoughtful gifts I've ever been given as a teacher (and it's practical, too-- I left my two feeders hanging in the backyard of our house...oh yeah, we're homeless now...transient...looking for a bridge to live under until Saturday...see? street cred! okay, so we're really staying at my mother's house...).
*you know who you are

The little booklet on the Holy Ghost (the last section of which contains the "Romans Road" approach to claiming salvation and how to get baptized in the Spirit, including a primer on speaking in tongues) came with a DVD and was given to me by a mild-mannered, pensive, pious, and courteous young man who is a walking, talking by-product of a devout Pentecostal family. One day a couple of months ago he came into my classroom and walked right past my desk-- no hello or anything, very unlike him-- then sat down and stared at his desk (dark cloud visible over his head). When I asked him what was wrong he snapped at me (again, unlike him) and said he had just had a discussion with another teacher but that it was his problem and not to worry about it. After class I stopped him as he was leaving and we talked about good days, bad days, and those days you wish you could have slept through-- he was still obviously stressed. He strained a smile and out popped the very cliché and o-so-wrong one-breath homily: "God never gives more than we can handle, right?"

A teachin'/preachin'/out-reachin'! moment ensued... Then a prayer... (sniff! see how they grow on you?!)

What a day. What a year. What a balaniferous (look it up) gift (now momentarily contemplate the metaphor) I've held in my hands for the past 15 years.

(reverent sigh)

Two days to go, but, honestly, the count's gone out of me...