Christmas Eve--Faith is a Verb

 En El Principio era El Verbo, y El Verbo era con Dios, y El Verbo era Dios. 

                                                    --San Juan 1:1

Faith is a verb. As is God, as is eternity.

Short story: When I taught writing at UCO, I'd use John 1:1 to emphasize the critical importance of verbs.

At a state university, I could usually count on a few students to quote John 1:1, in English. Then I'd explain, assuring the class that they didn't have to believe, but I wanted them to understand the theology behind it, that the "Word" was the agent of Creation ("Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life...."),  the pre-existent Christ.

Then I'd ask for the Spanish word of "word," and a few could answer "palabra." Then I'd put the  Spanish version up on the board, which is closer to the original Latin, and thus Greek: "En El Principio, era El Verbo...!"

Lesson: if you want to  "create" writing, sentences, pay attention to the verbs!

As I painted today's Christmas Eve card, I thought of people around the world gathering in churches, and homes, especially the poor, the paisanos and pueblo people of northern New Mexico. They  gather, walking through snow, to their adobe churches, expressing faith in their actions, seeking peace and sustenance in their humble lives.  Their faith is not something fancy or elaborate or have, but who they are and do.

Those were my thoughts last night as I was considering how to write this today. But then...

My mornings start with a reading from the journals of Thomas Merton. Today's selection, from Dec. 15, 1962,  had to be more than coincidence.

Consider these excerpts (italics are his):

• " The interior surrender of faith... (is)...an act of obedience, ie., self-commitment... (submitting) to God's truth in its power to give life, and to command one to live.
• "...Faith is not simply an act of choice, and option for a certain solution to the problem of existence, etc....To believe is to consent  to a creative command that raises us from the dead."

Tonight many of the faithful (those full of faith, a verb) gather to celebrate  the Verb who became flesh, "Y el Verbo se hizo carne...." San Juan 1:14 

No wonder faith  is a verb!

(P.S. I know, two sermons in one post today. Also consider that faith is different than belief. )

  

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Color in action

"Verb," 5 by 7 #watercolor, 140 lb. Fabriano Artistico cold press paper

Perhaps the most moving force in creation and the universe is the verb. Consider this Spanish translation of John 1:1, more accurate than the English, but you have to know your theology to fully comprende:
"En El Principio, era El Verbo, y El Verbo...."
On a gray rainy day, color stands out, the product of light, of light. Thus yesterday's unicorn, full of color and action and creation.

Journeys resume

Journeys, 5 by 7 watercolor

Every day, every year, is a journey. This card was by request two years ago for two very special friends in Santa Fe.
After pausing for Christmas, we head out again, down paths we know not what nor where.
It's taken me too long to realize that life is about  journey, not the destination.
To me,  "journey" is a verb--that way destination does not loom so large.
I don't want to "arrive," but to live each step.

Booth is a Verb, Chapter 8, Farsooth! redux

From August, 2009

A gospel of friends and special students
(Note, Farzie is still in New York, and regales us of her adventures there).

Chapter 8

The Clark presenting an award to The Farsooth years ago.
(She is still trim, young and svelte. The Clark not so much so.)

"Much of the lore and legend of The Booth came not from the faculty, but from the 'chillen' as The Illidge would refer to them, his students. While he had little use for those who didn’t take their educations seriously—'I’ve got a tip for you, change majors!,' he became a favorite teacher and mentor to many. He is still credited, almost with awe, by students for leading them to success. Even last year, one returning student, a survivor of some rough times and tattoos, said The Illidge was why he was going into advertising.

"Indeed, The Illidge’s teaching was always passionate, and whether a freshman class or a senior class, presented with fervor and humor, as was his wont. For three straight years, his influence helped three minority advertising majors be ranked in the top 25 minority students in the nation, and he accompanied them to ceremonies in The Big Apple, where all got jobs. His colleagues held him in the highest esteem for his reputation for being a demanding, effective and well-liked professor, especially since his experiences with students led to many humorous stories when they 'Boothed.'

"the kindred spirits of inquiry, stories and good times"

"Few students visited The Booth, because of the backward Baptist belaborments of the buckle on the Bible Belt which blindly banished booze by the university, which frowned on students, even of legal age, being recognized as adults, and ignored the long established practices of students and professors learning best when they gather informally, watered by the kindred spirits of inquiry, stories and good times.

"Perhaps the first student to sample the spirit of Boothing was the Department Sweetheart, Farsooth the Malay. Her official name is Farzana Abdul Razak, known to us all as 'Farzie,' though always adddressed by The Clark as 'Farsooth,'A tiny woman with gigantic spirit, humor, talent and smile, and perfect English, better than Okies, The Farsooth distinguished herself in all things computer and writing, and served as editor for the student newspaper and yearbook, winning top faculty awards, including outstanding service to the department. Yea, she returned to complete her masters’ degree. She has since moved to the Big Apple, where she’s survived 9/11 and much more, but still doth correspond, by facebook, email and phone, with the department, especially the Queen Bee, and The Clark.

"Reading this account recently, she wrote that she 'teared up,' and The Clark asked her about The Illidge.

"Herewith her response is relayed, because her views are so typical of so many students:

"Forsooth, Farsooth, Farzana!"

“'I think I've been to the Booth once. All I remember is I got drunk from the margaritas. Mr. Illidge was very special to me. He was the reason Carmen and I moved to NY. I remember coming in to The Vista/Bronze Book office every morning and greeted by him with a Shakespearean quote and coffee. I got him a book of Shakespeare quotes one year, and we would pick out an appropriate quote that reflected our day. I often helped him format his emails...God forbid there were any misspellings or grammatical errors.'

“'He always asked about my family, knew each one by name and personality. And he often told me he wished I could see my family as often as he did. I miss him and think of him often when I get bummed out in this big city. Thanks for keeping his memories alive.'

"Forsooth, Farsooth! Merci mon ami."

To be continued…

Booth is a verb, Chapter 2, redux

From August, 2009

Hear Ye, hear ye...

Booth is a verb...a love story, chapter 2

Chapter 2

"And on the second day, after enduring students who couldn’t spell, fuming about students who thought assignments were optional, and ruminating about students who thought average work was excellent, the duo gathered in the afternoon near the hive of the Queen bee to recuperate. They dropped into their chairs, with greatest of sighs and moans, seeking to wash away the greasy taste of the lunch and mediocre students with the bitter dregs of that morning’s coffee.

"Alas, even after much commiserating, and exchanging understanding jocularity with the Queen, still persisted the sourness in their mouths. Whereupon, the Clark, because as chair he was supposed to have great ideas, suggested another trip to the booth, even though he knew he would probably again lose the battle of the cribbage board, but he knew the frivolity and ferment of the drinks would offset it. Up perked the ears of other equally frustrated faculty members—especially the German complainer, the public relations princess, and Friar John, the photographic monk--who happened to come into the office to kill time and postpone grading papers or avoid attending meaningless committee meetings.

“'Booth?' they asked—because they had already heard intimations of immortality from the Illidge’s boasting, and the Queen’s complicity--and when once explained and located, they affirmed that such an pedagogical concept had transformational possibilities, because, lo, all were as thirsty as the Ancient Mariner for more than the dregs of everyday life. Whereas, it was only 3 p.m., and early perhaps for liquid refreshment, the Clark, because he was chair and was experienced in scheduling meetings and wished atonement for his sins, proposed a 4 p.m. rendezvous with reality, and the bosomy bartender. The frustrated trio immediately departed the hive, heading to their offices to finish grading, turn off computers, clear desks, or otherwise waste time.

"Then it was that the Illidge said, in his great and superior wisdom, “It’s five o’clock somewhere. Let’s go.” And with much insult, he did challenge the Clark to another embarrassing loss on the higher ed metaphorical circular cribbage board. And lo, forth they did sally to the booth, and the evening’s debauchery began.

"To be continued…."

"Booth" is a verb, a story and reverie

"We need to booth," said a colleague the other day, and we knew what she meant. End of semester. Time to get together for a little adult beverage and toasts and stories and jokes and release from  higher education's tensions, rules and nonsense.
But "Booth" has a long history for us in our department, I'd guess about 14 years. I've told this story before on this blog, but realized it has been a decade since my friend Bob Illidge retired, and nine years since he died, most of us attending his funeral in Wichita, Kansas.
After all these years, at this week's booth, here was the first toast: "To Bob." Such is the power of a friendship and a gathering.
So, in his honor, here is the first of about 16 chapters in the story of "The Booth," first written in 2009. I'll post one each day.

From Aug. 9, 2009

"Booth is a verb...a love story, prologue"

"Once upon a time long ago in a university department, two friends needed to get off campus one afternoon, to get away from the inanity of higher ed, from students who didn’t care, from stupid rules and useless meetings and endless paperwork, from administrators who didn’t care about teaching.

"Major universities worth their salt have neighborhood pubs around them for the students, and select ones for the faculty. But not so for where they labored against ignorance, a commuter-oriented university in the midst of a rich religious-right Republican suburb of a government-welfare capital city in a somewhat backward, if friendly, state. And this was grievous indeed for the Irish Catholic, veteran advertising professor whose sense of humor offset the injustices of life. He knew he needed a “little something” to wash away another day. Forsooth, the younger professor and chairman, a recovering tee-totaling fundamentalist, had become an expert over the years in the nonsense of administration, and knew he also needed respite of a liquid kind to keep his sanity.

"Yeah verily, they escaped the halls of mediocrity one day, a cribbage board and cards in hand, and ventured down to a franchise bar and restaurant no more than a half-mile from the austere campus, and found in the back, a booth paneled in dark-stained wood, cushioned with fake green leather, and set off from the rest of the restaurant by fake dark greenery. Then they saw the bartender, a cheerful, bosomy young woman who both knew because she was a student, as with most of theirs, paying her way through college by working long hours in fooderies and drinkeries for cheap pay in hope of good tips.

"To be continued…  "