Walking out of church today, I overheard a cute blonde girl talking to her mother:
"Why does he speak Spanish?"
"Because that's what his mommy and daddy taught him."
Problem solved.
How much better the world would be if we could all see it that simply! Regardless of questions of documentation, how many immigrants should come to the US, and what they should be doing, the fact remains: learning a foreign language is hard. And while it's impractical to convert everything to Spanish or whatever language area immigrants speak, perhaps we could all be more patient and understanding if we remembered that the reason immigrants speak Spanish (or another language) is the same reason we Anglophones speak English: it's what our mommies and daddies taught us.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Made to Worship
I went to Virginia Beach this weekend with a group of beautiful Catholics. And for this group, a retreat team, that description is accurate, both inside and out. I find myself surprised by glimpses of this beauty because I thought I already knew about it... and then a sideways glance or an offhand comment brings it to light all over again.
Another tidbit about the group that constantly surprises me, though it should not: we all have very different styles of spirituality. We show our love for Christ and others in so many different ways.
Swept up in moments of divine glory, I am a fling-my-arms-to-the-sky, talk-to-the-stars, dance-in-the-rain type of pray-er. I also draw close to God through music. On the way home, one of the guys on the team mentioned that singing (specifically in the context of leading worship music) was not the type of prayer for him. Yet music is a huge part of his life, and this revelation confused me: why do I, whose knowledge of and skill in music are about equal and about nil, pray powerfully through many types of music, while he lives an experience very much the opposite?
2 Corinthians 12:9-10: "He said to me: 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect through weakness.' I will rather boast most gladly of my weakness, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me. Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ; for when I am weak, then I am strong."
Shouldn't this apply to prayer as to anything else? If we pray best through our weaknesses, it completes the glory of God and reminds us that only through His grace can we pray at all. Weaknesses and constraints in prayer, whether a poor singing voice or a feeling of emptiness, can act as God's tools to strengthen us and our dependency on Him.
Another tidbit about the group that constantly surprises me, though it should not: we all have very different styles of spirituality. We show our love for Christ and others in so many different ways.
Swept up in moments of divine glory, I am a fling-my-arms-to-the-sky, talk-to-the-stars, dance-in-the-rain type of pray-er. I also draw close to God through music. On the way home, one of the guys on the team mentioned that singing (specifically in the context of leading worship music) was not the type of prayer for him. Yet music is a huge part of his life, and this revelation confused me: why do I, whose knowledge of and skill in music are about equal and about nil, pray powerfully through many types of music, while he lives an experience very much the opposite?
2 Corinthians 12:9-10: "He said to me: 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect through weakness.' I will rather boast most gladly of my weakness, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me. Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ; for when I am weak, then I am strong."
Shouldn't this apply to prayer as to anything else? If we pray best through our weaknesses, it completes the glory of God and reminds us that only through His grace can we pray at all. Weaknesses and constraints in prayer, whether a poor singing voice or a feeling of emptiness, can act as God's tools to strengthen us and our dependency on Him.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
My Turn
Having read several posts about graduation, I want my turn to put in a few words.
It happened. Right when it should, in the way it was supposed to, with the requisite pomp and joy and tears. Taylor Reveley and Tom Brokaw kept us entertained, as did our Chancellor, Sandra Day O'Connor. She and Reveley made the power of a voice obvious -- we all heard her laugh at our "Royal Charter" as she bestowed an honorary degree, although she did nothing more than read the script. And during the Sociology ceremony, I realized how many things one can do with a soc major, as well as how many creative ways exist to say, "I have no idea what I'm doing next year."
Of course, I realized once again how blessed I am to have attended the College. Clay Clemmons may have accurately describe the social life in his line about two statues staring at each other "and they never get any closer!" and we definitely have a twisted culture of stress, but so much good happens there too. It's the good that makes leaving hard, but at the same time easy. Every now and then, I get this image of all the people at the College as sparks. And we're all bumping around in this hot and sparkly place together -- until we graduate. Then suddenly we're cast to the four winds like dandelion fluff. But because we were made to be sparks, what else can we do but light our world wherever we end up?
Also, I find comfort in the fact that one part of me will never get left behind. After I bid good-bye to my roommates, I went to return the Book of Common Prayer that I borrowed from CCM about a year and a half ago. (I'm missing those prayers...) On arriving, I couldn't just drop the book and run, so I went up to our chapel for one last visit. I walked in with the mindset of saying good-bye... but I found myself talking to the Person there, and it was not a good-bye at all for him. Instead of saying good-bye to the chapel, I ended up saying thank you through my tears and asking for a safe journey -- up 64 to 95 and beyond.
Even my last minutes on campus proved what I had been telling myself about Commencement. The word doesn't mean ending; to commence is to begin.
It happened. Right when it should, in the way it was supposed to, with the requisite pomp and joy and tears. Taylor Reveley and Tom Brokaw kept us entertained, as did our Chancellor, Sandra Day O'Connor. She and Reveley made the power of a voice obvious -- we all heard her laugh at our "Royal Charter" as she bestowed an honorary degree, although she did nothing more than read the script. And during the Sociology ceremony, I realized how many things one can do with a soc major, as well as how many creative ways exist to say, "I have no idea what I'm doing next year."
Of course, I realized once again how blessed I am to have attended the College. Clay Clemmons may have accurately describe the social life in his line about two statues staring at each other "and they never get any closer!" and we definitely have a twisted culture of stress, but so much good happens there too. It's the good that makes leaving hard, but at the same time easy. Every now and then, I get this image of all the people at the College as sparks. And we're all bumping around in this hot and sparkly place together -- until we graduate. Then suddenly we're cast to the four winds like dandelion fluff. But because we were made to be sparks, what else can we do but light our world wherever we end up?
Also, I find comfort in the fact that one part of me will never get left behind. After I bid good-bye to my roommates, I went to return the Book of Common Prayer that I borrowed from CCM about a year and a half ago. (I'm missing those prayers...) On arriving, I couldn't just drop the book and run, so I went up to our chapel for one last visit. I walked in with the mindset of saying good-bye... but I found myself talking to the Person there, and it was not a good-bye at all for him. Instead of saying good-bye to the chapel, I ended up saying thank you through my tears and asking for a safe journey -- up 64 to 95 and beyond.
Even my last minutes on campus proved what I had been telling myself about Commencement. The word doesn't mean ending; to commence is to begin.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
I'm Going to Give You the Theory First....
I don't remember what book or even what class I read it in, but a few years ago, I read an account of managed social deviance. Basically the writer stated that societies have organized mechanisms for acceptable deviance to keep it from getting out of hand, while letting members go a little crazy every now and then. The example that I remember is Marti Gras, which lets those crazy, uptight Catholics have a day of insanity before they settle into the strict penitentiality of Lent. I don't think the author mentioned this one, but Saturnalia for the Romans would have accomplished the same thing: the slaves act as master, the masters as slaves. One day of crazy, the rest of the year you're normal. It makes sense, I guess.
Significance of the theory? Blowout. A little over two weeks ago, I was on campus during my first and only prime-time Blowout. Campus in the late afternoon and evening hours made me glad of my escape freshman year... I think I would have been scared. Now, however, I looked around and thought, "Isn't this fascinating that this happens!"
The College hosts many traditions in addition to the famous Triathlon. Blowout, I have heard, is one of the more recent, but no less beloved for that. The tradition? Get drunk Thursday night. Don't sober up until sometime Saturday. Attend all your classes and a plethora of college-sponsored activities in between. It's a small group that actually accomplishes this feat, but a large number of students walk around campus without full command of their faculties, and the rest of the student body is so relieved by the end of classes, over-joyed by the craziness of the campus, and vicariously drunk that sometimes it's hard to tell who falls into which category.
Returning to campus in time for one of the most enjoyable Shakespeare performances I've seen also allowed me to see the huge block-party-meets-concert which the Sunken Gardens hosts. Between that, the free ice cream, free t-shirts (if you blow an 0.0), free pancakes, free tacos, and free music, one would think that the administration supports this day. Let me be clear: the administration does not support the drunkenness and they do not hide this. However, they allow and even help the free-at-last, party feel of campus. Controlled social deviance, anyone? The one day a bunch of academics-obsessed, compulsively-overachieving students go crazy. During the school day.
Finally, I may not see another Blowout, but in case anyone who reads this will, I repeat what I said about the Shakespeare troupe. They are a new group and perform highly entertaining Shakespeare. Find them next Blowout, or any time in between. Also, I would recommend IV Pancake House and, if you have a group of non-swooning friends, the Gentlemen.
Significance of the theory? Blowout. A little over two weeks ago, I was on campus during my first and only prime-time Blowout. Campus in the late afternoon and evening hours made me glad of my escape freshman year... I think I would have been scared. Now, however, I looked around and thought, "Isn't this fascinating that this happens!"
The College hosts many traditions in addition to the famous Triathlon. Blowout, I have heard, is one of the more recent, but no less beloved for that. The tradition? Get drunk Thursday night. Don't sober up until sometime Saturday. Attend all your classes and a plethora of college-sponsored activities in between. It's a small group that actually accomplishes this feat, but a large number of students walk around campus without full command of their faculties, and the rest of the student body is so relieved by the end of classes, over-joyed by the craziness of the campus, and vicariously drunk that sometimes it's hard to tell who falls into which category.
Returning to campus in time for one of the most enjoyable Shakespeare performances I've seen also allowed me to see the huge block-party-meets-concert which the Sunken Gardens hosts. Between that, the free ice cream, free t-shirts (if you blow an 0.0), free pancakes, free tacos, and free music, one would think that the administration supports this day. Let me be clear: the administration does not support the drunkenness and they do not hide this. However, they allow and even help the free-at-last, party feel of campus. Controlled social deviance, anyone? The one day a bunch of academics-obsessed, compulsively-overachieving students go crazy. During the school day.
Finally, I may not see another Blowout, but in case anyone who reads this will, I repeat what I said about the Shakespeare troupe. They are a new group and perform highly entertaining Shakespeare. Find them next Blowout, or any time in between. Also, I would recommend IV Pancake House and, if you have a group of non-swooning friends, the Gentlemen.
Monday, May 11, 2009
The Borders of Our Lives
Since I started this at school, it only makes sense to include some of the highlights from my last weeks here. Now that I have turned in my final paper as an undergraduate, I have a few spare moments.
Two Wednesdays ago, my favorite class, Latino/a Migration, co-hosted a community forum on immigration and border issues. We've had a sister class all semester who were the other half of the co-host: Life on the Hyphen. They get the cool name, which has made me jealous all semester, but we speak English and are not Literary and Cultural Studies, which gives us infinite points. Both classes had worked in research groups to study some aspect of migration within Williamsburg; a group from both classes had gone to the US-Mexico Border over spring break.
Our professors put together the forum so that the people who had traveled to the border could present the projects they had done based on their experiences. As the other groups interviewed community members, we invited them to the forum.
We hoped to spark dialogue in the Williamsburg community about immigration -- the city does a good job at making people invisible, and while there is some safety in staying hidden, there is also a problem in allowing part of your population to be an invisible people, especially when they are a vulnerable people.
The thing that got me was that only the border groups presented. That placed the focus of the forum far away, in Arizona and Mexico, rather than right here in the 'burg. Maybe I'm too impatient and eventually, if this class happens again, they'll be ready to say what they find about Williamsburg. Maybe this only needs to spark a dialogue, and starting far away can help do just that. Also, I don't know who attended this forum: whether we were speaking to people already knowledgeable in this area, or if we were opening people's minds.
Conclusion of my life: I want to know more and see what happens from here.
Two Wednesdays ago, my favorite class, Latino/a Migration, co-hosted a community forum on immigration and border issues. We've had a sister class all semester who were the other half of the co-host: Life on the Hyphen. They get the cool name, which has made me jealous all semester, but we speak English and are not Literary and Cultural Studies, which gives us infinite points. Both classes had worked in research groups to study some aspect of migration within Williamsburg; a group from both classes had gone to the US-Mexico Border over spring break.
Our professors put together the forum so that the people who had traveled to the border could present the projects they had done based on their experiences. As the other groups interviewed community members, we invited them to the forum.
We hoped to spark dialogue in the Williamsburg community about immigration -- the city does a good job at making people invisible, and while there is some safety in staying hidden, there is also a problem in allowing part of your population to be an invisible people, especially when they are a vulnerable people.
The thing that got me was that only the border groups presented. That placed the focus of the forum far away, in Arizona and Mexico, rather than right here in the 'burg. Maybe I'm too impatient and eventually, if this class happens again, they'll be ready to say what they find about Williamsburg. Maybe this only needs to spark a dialogue, and starting far away can help do just that. Also, I don't know who attended this forum: whether we were speaking to people already knowledgeable in this area, or if we were opening people's minds.
Conclusion of my life: I want to know more and see what happens from here.
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