Thoughts from Culhwch

So I’m writing a literary theory paper analyzing Hildegard’s theory of the cosmos in Scivias. I seem to be reaching the conclusion that literary theory itself is on some questionable moral ground, so long as it involves a stage of critique which attempts to assert authority. It seems like all attempts within the Hildegard text to ground the authority of the text involve some sort of a turn away from the transcendent, something which attempts to subvert God as ultimate authority…

All this basically means is that this branch of literary theory is highly suspect (as is might be my attempt to analyze it)

~david

You know what really stinks? Getting the flu the day of Spring Fling and staying inside all day and not getting to see anyone. But I guess it happens. The good thing is that I’m feeling much better today. I might even be able to eat solid food by the end of the day. One can only hope, right? Maybe I’ll take the top off my car and go cruising.

In other news, it turns out I have a good amount of work to do, but don’t really feel like doing any of it. Between now and May 7, I need to write two essays, and study for two finals. One final and one paper should be fairly easy, the other final and the other paper will be tough.

Essay 1: History Paper… 5 pages
Essay 2: Literary Theory… 20 pages
Final 1: History Final
Final 2: Dante

I’ve also been wondering how we as Christians should treat those in authority over us (within the church). I was reading 1 Thessalonians, and Paul makes a point about how we should appreciate them. But I also wonder how much we put people on a pedestal. How do we make real relationships available between clergy and laity. If every time pastors and congregations interact they view each other in some sort of a councilor / councilee way, when to real friendships develop. I think we need to be careful that we provide times a places for pastors and congregations to meet in a more peer-to-peer sort of way. But how do we do that, while still recognizing the charge that pastors have to support their congregations?

So, I’m writing a paper on the response of the community to people who fail at romantic relationships. This is particularly strange, since I haven’t actually managed to figure out what a “successful” romantic relationship looks like -except that, since this is a paper on Dante, I’m really just trying to follow my impression of his lead. In Dante, it looks like romantic relationships begin and end in communal love. Hmm. Is it weird that I’m writing this essay? I mean I could have chosen pretty much anything in all of Paradiso and I choose Venus, mainly because I like this one 6 line simile. And then it turns out that I start writing about the one thing that I think I have absolutely no clue how to write about. Crazy.

And this whole paper just brings up how our society values being in romantic relationships, so much so that being single seems like the problem. Or maybe I’m just stuck in some 1950′s dream world. But this is really something which we need to address. How do adult singles get along in society, how does society support them? How does that happen in a way which doesn’t negatively impact singles?

Finally, how does the church, as the basis of communal love on earth, provide for those who are not in relationship without pressuring them into it? Sure I think relationships are great, but I detest the crazy amounts of social pressure to be in one. And luckily that pressure isn’t coming from my friends. Still it’s there, and maybe more so for those of us who grew up in more conservative parts of this country, where it seems like something is wrong if you’re not married by the time you leave high school, or college at the latest. Heck, I can’t visit my grandparents without being inundated with questions as to why I haven’t found a wife yet.

Of course all this is complicated again by the bifurcating social norms which put my own religious convictions into some sort of spotlight of scorn.

Oh well… no answers tonight.

If yesterday was such a long one, perhaps the next morning was one of the shortest. But maybe it was long in its own way. Maybe it was just so filled with so much running around, so many messages that must have seemed more like rumors to them, that the day was completely outside of time. They must have been incredibly confused. First He was dead, now he’s alive.

One moment your walking into Jerusalem, thinking, now we have a new king, now we have somebody who knows us, who listens, whom God has incredibly blessed. The next moment, our hope is gone, raptured away. Then this morning, we hear that He’s not in the grave anymore. My heart just leaps within me. The doubt which doubted doubt now ruptures, explodes, and tingles in the arms. Really? He’s alive? But He was dead? Yes! and Yes! When have such things happened before. Not even did Moses do this!

They must have thought that Jesus was now going to continue to take on the thrown. That he was going to march up to Herod, as God’s chosen one, as the next messiah. Instead, He was the Messiah. This week was going to be different.

How do I imagine what they felt? Barely rested. hardly awake. Their savior dead. Was it all a lie? They must have wondered. They must have felt dejected, maybe like a lover rejected. They must have longed to see his face, to see their savior again. But could they bring themselves to confront a very real death? Could they confront the loss of their hopes and dreams? What would they do now? What would they try next? Maybe they should rebel, throw off the Roman oppression. Maybe they should just get on with their lives, start fishing again. Maybe it was all wrong anyway. They were just testing fate to see if Rome was the big bad giant they imagined. But where did this courage come from? This tiny bit of courage that felt like nothing. But it wasn’t nothing. It was there; they could just barely feel it. What tempted them to believe that it wasn’t over yet? Why didn’t they just all leave? Why was it that their hearts burned within when they were near him? Why did it seem like Christ was so much more than they could ever comprehend? Why, when he was dead, did this nagging hope keep percolating through their thoughts? This is it. It’s time to decide what we are doing here. How do we continue His ministry? What do make of his promises?