For all my fans out there...i live.
And this is what has been going on with me. I am trying to prepare a paper for the Society of Biblical Literature annual conference that is meeting in Philadelphia the weekend before Thanksgiving. The paper is called:
Luke’s Sower: Reading the Parable Synoptically using Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek
When analyzing the Parable of the Sower in Matthew, Mark, and Luke, we find different linguistic choices in each version. These choices reflect lexical and syntactic structures that can be evaluated as to the degree of naturalness within Hebrew, Aramaic and Greek. One may identify lexemes and usage that are 'more Greek' compared with those that are either 'more Hebraic' or 'more Aramaic'. For example, vocabulary built up with prefixes is a Greek feature that does not mimic vocabulary structure in Semitic languages. Likewise, aspectual distinctions and subordinate participial structures in Greek are sometimes more cumbersome to express in Hebrew and Aramaic. Weighing and sifting through these linguistic data opens new avenues for dealing with the literary history of our texts. Specifically, Luke’s Sower differs significantly from Mark and Matthew. Investigating the three Sower accounts within the contextualized languages of the Second Temple Period encourages fresh observations for age-old questions in Synoptic Studies. How do the Semitisms and Grecisms interrelate in the three different accounts in comparison with synoptic theories? The linguistic patterns bring an added complexity to the predictions of standard synoptic theories. Further analysis may suggest that Luke's Sower comes from a source independent of Mark or Matthew.
I am working on a U2 concert review. (I saw U2 at Madison Square Garden a couple of weeks ago.)
I am teaching a class on Acts. This next Monday we will be focusing on the Jerusalem Council (Acts 15). I am also teaching a New Testament class and we will be studying Romans and Galatians this coming Monday. I am doing an independent study with a student on Intertestamental Literature and I meet him today at 12:30pm.
As far as visitors, Sharon's parents arrive this Saturday afternoon and will be here for the weekend. We have a Scottish-Israeli friend, ANne Stanfield also coming that weekend, though she'll be staying at another flat.
We just had a British friend, Helen Bosanquet, who studied Hebrew with us in Israel this past summer, stay with us from Oct. 21-26. Another friend from Tallahassee, Christopher Bennage was with us Oct. 9-13. We also saw an old Israeli friend Leaf Chang on Oct. 11. He actually lives about 20 minutes by foot from us in Brooklyn.
Since I'm new to blogging, I'll start with this. Part Two...later.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Saturday, October 15, 2005
U2 at Madison Square Garden
We got to see U2 at Madison Square Garden at their last show in New York City. We went with the Notleys for a LOUD night out on the town. Below is a long review I wrote of the show. There is also a slimmer more edited version at http://www.thematthewshouseproject.com/
Consuming Crumbs from U2’s Table
U2 (Vertigo Tour), Friday, Oct. 14, 2005
Madison Square Garden, New York City
In New York, freedom looks like too many choices…
The Irish have been coming here for years,
feel like they own the place,
They got the airport, city hall, concrete, asphalt,
they even got the police,
Irish, Italian, Jews and Hispanics,
religious nuts, political fanatics in the stew,
living happily not like me and you,
that’s where I lost you…New York.
I had never seen U2 in concert before. Seeing them for the first time, at their final Vertigo show in New York City might be characterized as serendipitous. For one, my wife and I were offered tickets for $100 a piece the night before the show by a coworker who had purchased them months before for more than that. (The cheapest tickets for the show were being scalped for more than $250 after they were bought up during the thirty minute sale frenzy this past spring.) Another advantageous reason was the location of the concert. U2 has much in common with Manhattan island, maybe even more, now, than they do with their home island of Ireland. See, U2 and New York City are world players: nations tremble and the 21st century pantheon genuflects in the presence of both. Our enlightened hip generation dines at their table. Whatever U2 and NYC serve, we consume (if we can afford it).
U2 and NYC are both focal points for information and ideas that are influencing and changing political-social orders. While Osama bin Laden viewed the World Trade Center Towers as representative of the United States’ stranglehold on international financial markets, U2 recognizes the United States’ ethnic diversity, where citizens of 115 countries lost their lives in the WTC attack. Both U2 and NYC proclaim liberty for the universal individual and promote freedom for the nations.
Yet, in order to attain and sustain their global pole position, both U2 and NYC must be efficient stewards of capitalism which enables their Herculean humanitarian feats. This is a key component of the city and the band’s success. It is not just about NYC’s waterfront location and ethnic restaurants or U2’s good music and philosophical ballads. They both understand globalism and how to play by its rules, even as al-Qaeda is desperately trying to erase these rules.
The price of freedom and choice in the modern world is more than sacrificial blood being shed on Patrick Henry’s 18th century altar. Today, the nations fight economic battles of import-export that will define their international status for generations to come. Whether to Wal-mart or not to Wal-mart. To coddle or cage the Microsoft dragon. To McDonald-ize the food industry. Consumerism is the currency of today’s freedom of choice, as the exchange of ideas has become synonymous with bootlegging Mp3’s and Mpegs, and little to do with trading the ideas of Plato and Locke.
So, U2 and NYC are world-shakers having grappled with and sifted through capitalism’s paradox of gluttony and gauntness, crafting gospels that try and teach us how to balance feast and famine, with the expanding chasm that separates the First and Third Worlds. While U2 and NYC are on the front line of global relief and aid, they still dwell among us, spoiled, slightly obese Westerners. There is good reason why monthly rent for a one bedroom apartment in Manhattan is $3000 and why a Vertigo T-shirt runs for $35. This is capitalism’s supply and demand legacy...success breeds success and everyone wants a piece of the action. And that’s why we pay.
And that’s why I pay an outrageous rent to live in the trash strewn streets of Brooklyn, where trees are endangered species and you tell the time by the hourly rumbling of the overhead rusty subway. And that’s why I consider myself fortunate to have obtained U2 tickets at a third of the cost that others willingly forked out in full. We all want to be a part of the Big Show wherever it is (if we can afford it).
City of Blinding Lights
A Big Show is what it was—loud, blinding, and amazing. I now understand why U2’s concerts are regarded as works of art that engage not only the physical senses, but stretch the intellect, query the soul, and palpitate the heart. I experienced all of this during the 2 ½ hours, from ecstasy to defeat, contemplation to adulation, casual observation to complete participation, distant, removed, and numb but also broken, surrendered, and awed.
As I write this, four days after the concert, my ears are still ringing. We were not sitting anywhere near the speakers, but I guess the sound system was jacked-up. Thirty minutes into their show, due to the growing numbness in my ears I was already having trouble distinguishing Bono’s syllables while he casually talked to the crowd between songs. I am not the only one who became hard of hearing. I have read multiple reviews by fans from the last few shows that have complained about their ears needlessly ringing during and after the show. Ironically, U2’s sound man, Joe O’Herlihy, recently was voted Sound Man of the Year (I guess by the Society of the Deaf).
U2 exploded by opening with “City of Blinding Lights” which was quite appropriate for the Big Apple. The pent up fervor of the fans spew into the air with everyone mouthing the verses and then drowning out Bono on the chorus “Oh-you-look-so-beau-tiful tonight!” The lights were phenomenal as strings of daisy-chained beads were lowered like crystal curtains, enthralling the eyes with gigantic graphics and pulsating colorful images. Each of these plastic-encased MiSPHERE balls contain a 360 degree LED screen and act as one pixel among the thousands of pixels that made up U2’s enormous shimmering backdrop, a virtual gargantuan computer screen.
U2’s set list majored on its most recent How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb album, although it was liberally peppered with past anthems that spanned back to their first album, Boy (1980). U2’s international birth, twenty five years ago, practically coincided with John Lennon’s murder in NYC outside his Central Park apartment building. During U2’s first North American tour, 8 days total, in early December 1980, Lennon was shot by a mentally deranged man. Fast forwarding to the present concert, Bono paid brief homage to Lennon and his Strawberry Fields memorial. In hindsight, one can not help noticing 1980 as the year of rock-n-roll’s changing of the guard. Just as Solomon’s glory grew greater than David’s, so too, (without sounding sacrilegious to Liverpool’s own) U2 has reinvented the meaning of rock legend.
U2 escorted the audience into the heavens with “Gloria”, a very rare occurrence for one of their concerts. We all had our hands in the air like a charismatic mega-church praising: “Gloria, in te domine, Gloria... exultate, Oh Lord, if I had anything, I’d give it to you.” Their show throughout the night would oscillate between heaven and earth, seemingly entering supernatural realms but always descending back to human familiarity.
Regarding band persona, U2 can be described as one extrovert plus three introverts. Bono (Paul Hewson) is clearly the face and voice of U2. He is not shy, and more than confident to give you his thoughts. A true evangelist. I never heard any of the other members-the Edge (Dave Evans), Adam Clayton, or Larry Mullen Jr. let out a peep during the entire show. They seemed to enjoy Bono’s verbosity. They must, because twenty five years later they are going where few to no rock bands have ever gone-four original members alive and still playing together as one (in contrast to the Beatles who barely toured for seven years).
If Bono is the face and voice, then the Edge is the spirit, his emphatic riffs on the guitar and otherworldly back-up vocals help guide and frame Bono’s preaching. Clayton’s bass is the band’s spine and skeleton that holds the heavenly visions together within an earthy thump. Mullen’s drumming is the hands and feet that propel the band’s message forward unabashedly. These three introverts, the Edge, Clayton, and Mullen, while vocally diffident, are noticeably exceptional in their individual performances. Together with Bono, all four members are part of an extraordinary body that breathes and moves. U2 is a living community that has perfected fellowship in a musical sense.
City of Coexistence
However, one might argue, U2 is in many respects a political band. They have been from their beginnings in Ireland. They have taken human sins such as hate, discrimination, and greed, and fearlessly preached against them before the world. They have consistently called for change and reformation of these human weaknesses on personal, communal, and national levels. Consequentially, U2 has been at the forefront for the past three decades in international awareness, whether it be at home with Northern Ireland’s internal struggles, South Africa’s apartheid, political repression, AIDS among the impoverished, or Bono’s latest interest with debt forgiveness for African nations.
As U2 performed their politically-laced offerings of “Pride”, “Sunday Bloody Sunday”, and “Bullet the Blue Sky” many images of current struggles came to mind. Especially on “Bullet the Blue Sky”, as the background displayed huge fighter jets zooming through the air on bombing runs, one could not ignore the allusions to the contemporary media’s obsession with the United States’ involvement in Afghanistan and Iraq, along with Israel’s disengagement from the Palestinians. Bono skillfully weaved in the line from another song, “These are the hands that built America” as “Bullet the Blue Sky” ended, leaving us with a disturbing juxtaposition of fighter jets and the fabled American dream.
In the middle of the show, Bono donned a bandana with the word “CoeXisT” scrawled on it. The “C” was fashioned like the Muslim crescent; the X was actually in the shape of the Jewish Star of David; the “T” was a Christian cross. Bono told us he was going to teach us this new word “coexist”, because without it the future will be a dark place. And then he proceeded to lead the crowd in shouts of “No More! No More!”
The concert’s vicinity, so close to 9/11’s Ground Zero, reinforced in my mind this harangue against religious fundamentalism that has become the whipping horse of the liberal world view. In many ways, Bono was “preaching to the choir,” as NYC is one of the most diverse places on earth. I am amazed everyday by the multiplicity of languages, religions, and cultures that call NYC home. The WTC attack against this “city of coexistence” by young wealthy Saudi fundamentalist Muslims has since spawned a fear of terror that has spread throughout the world during the past four years.
While coexistence might be a key ingredient to soothing hate, it is not the bottom line. Coexistence is too simplistic for war and rage; the issue today is much deeper and greater than a future peace agreement between warring sides. There are terrorist elements in our world who are cold-blooded murderers, not Robin Hoods. This “fundamentalist Islamic war” against the innocent continues in Africa, the Middle East, India, Bali, the Philippines, Russia, (more recently) Europe, and many other unpublicized places. Coexistence is a laudable aim for all of humanity, but I wondered if the real issues, such as repentance and forgiveness were being muted for the catchy bumper sticker of “world peace”.
City on a Hill
Part of what makes U2 larger than life is their ability to articulate emotions and concepts on all levels from the intimate to the universal, the raw visceral to the complex esoteric. They embody spirit navigating within flesh. They challenge standards and yet revere the sacred. Their mix of secular and spiritual, profane and holy, tests the walls we use to demarcate and stereotype. Due to their timeless fluidity, along with their cultural and religious flexibility, they cast a wide net that gathers an enormous fan base from many diverse backgrounds. Yes, they are musicians, but musicians with a message. They connect with the masses because of this moderate melodic gospel.
Bono told the audience that America is a great country. What makes America great he reminded us is the “idea” that we represent. “So hold on to the idea.” He did not expound his thoughts but wisely left it open-ended for each person to define and incarnate.
The band gave two encores. In its final set for NYC, U2 played two last songs-its new anthem, “Yahweh” and a repeat of “Vertigo”. The combination of these two songs brought an appropriate conclusion and summary of NYC and U2’s complex “girl with crimson nails has Jesus round her neck” reality that has spirit spinning within flesh. With “Yahweh”, we were hearkened and hushed into the presence of God and with “Vertigo” we were lambasted with the big city lights and all its prevalent temptation.
Bono brought out a bottle of champagne and U2 toasted New York’s faithful, eye to eye and soul to soul. Both understand living with the daily tension of theodicy where humanity, both gorge and go hungry, murderers claim God’s blessing while their victims suffer, and paradoxical pluralism is the standard. The brusque, claustrophobic New York City is one of the hardest yet greatest places to learn how to love God and our neighbors/enemies while trying to translate redemption out of a guarded selfish world:
Take this city, a city should be shining on a hill,
take this city, if it be your will,
what no man can own, no man can take,
take this heart and make it break.
Consuming Crumbs from U2’s Table
U2 (Vertigo Tour), Friday, Oct. 14, 2005
Madison Square Garden, New York City
In New York, freedom looks like too many choices…
The Irish have been coming here for years,
feel like they own the place,
They got the airport, city hall, concrete, asphalt,
they even got the police,
Irish, Italian, Jews and Hispanics,
religious nuts, political fanatics in the stew,
living happily not like me and you,
that’s where I lost you…New York.
I had never seen U2 in concert before. Seeing them for the first time, at their final Vertigo show in New York City might be characterized as serendipitous. For one, my wife and I were offered tickets for $100 a piece the night before the show by a coworker who had purchased them months before for more than that. (The cheapest tickets for the show were being scalped for more than $250 after they were bought up during the thirty minute sale frenzy this past spring.) Another advantageous reason was the location of the concert. U2 has much in common with Manhattan island, maybe even more, now, than they do with their home island of Ireland. See, U2 and New York City are world players: nations tremble and the 21st century pantheon genuflects in the presence of both. Our enlightened hip generation dines at their table. Whatever U2 and NYC serve, we consume (if we can afford it).
U2 and NYC are both focal points for information and ideas that are influencing and changing political-social orders. While Osama bin Laden viewed the World Trade Center Towers as representative of the United States’ stranglehold on international financial markets, U2 recognizes the United States’ ethnic diversity, where citizens of 115 countries lost their lives in the WTC attack. Both U2 and NYC proclaim liberty for the universal individual and promote freedom for the nations.
Yet, in order to attain and sustain their global pole position, both U2 and NYC must be efficient stewards of capitalism which enables their Herculean humanitarian feats. This is a key component of the city and the band’s success. It is not just about NYC’s waterfront location and ethnic restaurants or U2’s good music and philosophical ballads. They both understand globalism and how to play by its rules, even as al-Qaeda is desperately trying to erase these rules.
The price of freedom and choice in the modern world is more than sacrificial blood being shed on Patrick Henry’s 18th century altar. Today, the nations fight economic battles of import-export that will define their international status for generations to come. Whether to Wal-mart or not to Wal-mart. To coddle or cage the Microsoft dragon. To McDonald-ize the food industry. Consumerism is the currency of today’s freedom of choice, as the exchange of ideas has become synonymous with bootlegging Mp3’s and Mpegs, and little to do with trading the ideas of Plato and Locke.
So, U2 and NYC are world-shakers having grappled with and sifted through capitalism’s paradox of gluttony and gauntness, crafting gospels that try and teach us how to balance feast and famine, with the expanding chasm that separates the First and Third Worlds. While U2 and NYC are on the front line of global relief and aid, they still dwell among us, spoiled, slightly obese Westerners. There is good reason why monthly rent for a one bedroom apartment in Manhattan is $3000 and why a Vertigo T-shirt runs for $35. This is capitalism’s supply and demand legacy...success breeds success and everyone wants a piece of the action. And that’s why we pay.
And that’s why I pay an outrageous rent to live in the trash strewn streets of Brooklyn, where trees are endangered species and you tell the time by the hourly rumbling of the overhead rusty subway. And that’s why I consider myself fortunate to have obtained U2 tickets at a third of the cost that others willingly forked out in full. We all want to be a part of the Big Show wherever it is (if we can afford it).
City of Blinding Lights
A Big Show is what it was—loud, blinding, and amazing. I now understand why U2’s concerts are regarded as works of art that engage not only the physical senses, but stretch the intellect, query the soul, and palpitate the heart. I experienced all of this during the 2 ½ hours, from ecstasy to defeat, contemplation to adulation, casual observation to complete participation, distant, removed, and numb but also broken, surrendered, and awed.
As I write this, four days after the concert, my ears are still ringing. We were not sitting anywhere near the speakers, but I guess the sound system was jacked-up. Thirty minutes into their show, due to the growing numbness in my ears I was already having trouble distinguishing Bono’s syllables while he casually talked to the crowd between songs. I am not the only one who became hard of hearing. I have read multiple reviews by fans from the last few shows that have complained about their ears needlessly ringing during and after the show. Ironically, U2’s sound man, Joe O’Herlihy, recently was voted Sound Man of the Year (I guess by the Society of the Deaf).
U2 exploded by opening with “City of Blinding Lights” which was quite appropriate for the Big Apple. The pent up fervor of the fans spew into the air with everyone mouthing the verses and then drowning out Bono on the chorus “Oh-you-look-so-beau-tiful tonight!” The lights were phenomenal as strings of daisy-chained beads were lowered like crystal curtains, enthralling the eyes with gigantic graphics and pulsating colorful images. Each of these plastic-encased MiSPHERE balls contain a 360 degree LED screen and act as one pixel among the thousands of pixels that made up U2’s enormous shimmering backdrop, a virtual gargantuan computer screen.
U2’s set list majored on its most recent How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb album, although it was liberally peppered with past anthems that spanned back to their first album, Boy (1980). U2’s international birth, twenty five years ago, practically coincided with John Lennon’s murder in NYC outside his Central Park apartment building. During U2’s first North American tour, 8 days total, in early December 1980, Lennon was shot by a mentally deranged man. Fast forwarding to the present concert, Bono paid brief homage to Lennon and his Strawberry Fields memorial. In hindsight, one can not help noticing 1980 as the year of rock-n-roll’s changing of the guard. Just as Solomon’s glory grew greater than David’s, so too, (without sounding sacrilegious to Liverpool’s own) U2 has reinvented the meaning of rock legend.
U2 escorted the audience into the heavens with “Gloria”, a very rare occurrence for one of their concerts. We all had our hands in the air like a charismatic mega-church praising: “Gloria, in te domine, Gloria... exultate, Oh Lord, if I had anything, I’d give it to you.” Their show throughout the night would oscillate between heaven and earth, seemingly entering supernatural realms but always descending back to human familiarity.
Regarding band persona, U2 can be described as one extrovert plus three introverts. Bono (Paul Hewson) is clearly the face and voice of U2. He is not shy, and more than confident to give you his thoughts. A true evangelist. I never heard any of the other members-the Edge (Dave Evans), Adam Clayton, or Larry Mullen Jr. let out a peep during the entire show. They seemed to enjoy Bono’s verbosity. They must, because twenty five years later they are going where few to no rock bands have ever gone-four original members alive and still playing together as one (in contrast to the Beatles who barely toured for seven years).
If Bono is the face and voice, then the Edge is the spirit, his emphatic riffs on the guitar and otherworldly back-up vocals help guide and frame Bono’s preaching. Clayton’s bass is the band’s spine and skeleton that holds the heavenly visions together within an earthy thump. Mullen’s drumming is the hands and feet that propel the band’s message forward unabashedly. These three introverts, the Edge, Clayton, and Mullen, while vocally diffident, are noticeably exceptional in their individual performances. Together with Bono, all four members are part of an extraordinary body that breathes and moves. U2 is a living community that has perfected fellowship in a musical sense.
City of Coexistence
However, one might argue, U2 is in many respects a political band. They have been from their beginnings in Ireland. They have taken human sins such as hate, discrimination, and greed, and fearlessly preached against them before the world. They have consistently called for change and reformation of these human weaknesses on personal, communal, and national levels. Consequentially, U2 has been at the forefront for the past three decades in international awareness, whether it be at home with Northern Ireland’s internal struggles, South Africa’s apartheid, political repression, AIDS among the impoverished, or Bono’s latest interest with debt forgiveness for African nations.
As U2 performed their politically-laced offerings of “Pride”, “Sunday Bloody Sunday”, and “Bullet the Blue Sky” many images of current struggles came to mind. Especially on “Bullet the Blue Sky”, as the background displayed huge fighter jets zooming through the air on bombing runs, one could not ignore the allusions to the contemporary media’s obsession with the United States’ involvement in Afghanistan and Iraq, along with Israel’s disengagement from the Palestinians. Bono skillfully weaved in the line from another song, “These are the hands that built America” as “Bullet the Blue Sky” ended, leaving us with a disturbing juxtaposition of fighter jets and the fabled American dream.
In the middle of the show, Bono donned a bandana with the word “CoeXisT” scrawled on it. The “C” was fashioned like the Muslim crescent; the X was actually in the shape of the Jewish Star of David; the “T” was a Christian cross. Bono told us he was going to teach us this new word “coexist”, because without it the future will be a dark place. And then he proceeded to lead the crowd in shouts of “No More! No More!”
The concert’s vicinity, so close to 9/11’s Ground Zero, reinforced in my mind this harangue against religious fundamentalism that has become the whipping horse of the liberal world view. In many ways, Bono was “preaching to the choir,” as NYC is one of the most diverse places on earth. I am amazed everyday by the multiplicity of languages, religions, and cultures that call NYC home. The WTC attack against this “city of coexistence” by young wealthy Saudi fundamentalist Muslims has since spawned a fear of terror that has spread throughout the world during the past four years.
While coexistence might be a key ingredient to soothing hate, it is not the bottom line. Coexistence is too simplistic for war and rage; the issue today is much deeper and greater than a future peace agreement between warring sides. There are terrorist elements in our world who are cold-blooded murderers, not Robin Hoods. This “fundamentalist Islamic war” against the innocent continues in Africa, the Middle East, India, Bali, the Philippines, Russia, (more recently) Europe, and many other unpublicized places. Coexistence is a laudable aim for all of humanity, but I wondered if the real issues, such as repentance and forgiveness were being muted for the catchy bumper sticker of “world peace”.
City on a Hill
Part of what makes U2 larger than life is their ability to articulate emotions and concepts on all levels from the intimate to the universal, the raw visceral to the complex esoteric. They embody spirit navigating within flesh. They challenge standards and yet revere the sacred. Their mix of secular and spiritual, profane and holy, tests the walls we use to demarcate and stereotype. Due to their timeless fluidity, along with their cultural and religious flexibility, they cast a wide net that gathers an enormous fan base from many diverse backgrounds. Yes, they are musicians, but musicians with a message. They connect with the masses because of this moderate melodic gospel.
Bono told the audience that America is a great country. What makes America great he reminded us is the “idea” that we represent. “So hold on to the idea.” He did not expound his thoughts but wisely left it open-ended for each person to define and incarnate.
The band gave two encores. In its final set for NYC, U2 played two last songs-its new anthem, “Yahweh” and a repeat of “Vertigo”. The combination of these two songs brought an appropriate conclusion and summary of NYC and U2’s complex “girl with crimson nails has Jesus round her neck” reality that has spirit spinning within flesh. With “Yahweh”, we were hearkened and hushed into the presence of God and with “Vertigo” we were lambasted with the big city lights and all its prevalent temptation.
Bono brought out a bottle of champagne and U2 toasted New York’s faithful, eye to eye and soul to soul. Both understand living with the daily tension of theodicy where humanity, both gorge and go hungry, murderers claim God’s blessing while their victims suffer, and paradoxical pluralism is the standard. The brusque, claustrophobic New York City is one of the hardest yet greatest places to learn how to love God and our neighbors/enemies while trying to translate redemption out of a guarded selfish world:
Take this city, a city should be shining on a hill,
take this city, if it be your will,
what no man can own, no man can take,
take this heart and make it break.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Super Size
(This is something that I wrote one night while Chris Bennage was visiting. He forced us to sit and write something...this is what I came up with.)
Sweating and breathing heavily as if the world was soon to end, the young man could only think about one thing—to super size or not to super size. The short and hefty cashier wearing a well-worn, oil-smudged tag bearing “Laura,” stared at the counter and glanced at the slow-speaking male customer. “Sir, would you like to upgrade your combo or not?”
The college age crowd standing around the laggard were joking and laughing about a comedian they had just seen at “The Improv”. Fast food joints were packed on Friday nights here in the big city, where grease and coke were accepted late night indulgences. The young man, dressed in jeans and t-shirt with his large black backpack, fit well in this “American Graffiti” scene.
He was quite thirsty, that’s why he was considering to “super size”. He had come downtown to do his assignment and he had chosen this popular American hangout as an appropriate place for his work. He had been in school for four years and he had had some of the best teachers in the world, but now he was looking forward to finishing. He had grown tired of studying. Just like all students that long to enter the real world, the young man was ready to leave.
Laura started to consciously tap the counter, her chunky little fingers with blood red fingernails tap dancing like contorted circus elephants. She said to herself, “Ok, just a regular combo” and began to total his order.
A desert makes one very thirsty. The young man had been in a wilderness for a long time. His parents had brought him to America when he was five. Though he had assimilated and advanced in everything he did, he always felt different. Other. And he always felt thirsty. That’s why you need an oasis in the wilderness. A watering hole brings people in from far and wide. In a way, this burger joint reminded him of his summer camps watering horses in the desolate mountains. And of thirst.
“Yeah, give…give me a super size.”
The curly-headed cashier looked for the first time into the handsome stranger’s sad dark eyes. “Wha—?” She quickly returned her eyes to the keyboard, hurriedly picked the wax out of her left ear and deleted her previous input with the now correct information.
The restaurant was filling up now. Five lines had formed behind the counter as the crest of life was overflowing with obnoxious jokes, pretentious giggles, and back-slapping antics.
Growing up in America was a desert—all the conveniences of modernity but a desolate row of fulfillment. Still, the now smiling young man had found something to latch onto through his studies. Like the philosophy professor who woos you with his enlightened airs, the young man had found his education to be alluring. Something that gives you hope and passion. No longer listless, the young man devoured life during his last years of classes.
“Your burger and fries, sir, and…your super size coke.” The young man’s perspiration pooled under his sunken eyes. The thirst was killing him. Why had he ordered a meal? He wasn’t hungry.
His backpack was straining like a metal chain that binds its prisoner. One last assignment and then graduation. The young man popped a straw into the ice-filled, overflowing beverage holder and began ingesting the caramel-flavored liquid like a camel reconstituting its lost reserves. As the young man continued sucking past the 32 ounce cup’s half way point, Laura already in the middle of another customer’s order, stole a look at her former indecisive customer.
All the young people jammed in ordering grilled red meat with crimson ketchup and glowing pickles, starchy potatoes fried in canola oil and this sugary sweet drink that had conquered the world over from Chile to China, and Saskatchewan to Saudi Arabia.
The young man’s last slurps signaled his cup’s completion. He started to walk off. “Sir, you forgot your meal!” The young man with his backpack, never looked back in the direction of the gelatinous cashier. All were like hungry sheep without a shepherd; the consumers being consumed as flesh fried.
Sweating and breathing heavily as if the world was soon to end, the young man could only think about one thing—to super size or not to super size. The short and hefty cashier wearing a well-worn, oil-smudged tag bearing “Laura,” stared at the counter and glanced at the slow-speaking male customer. “Sir, would you like to upgrade your combo or not?”
The college age crowd standing around the laggard were joking and laughing about a comedian they had just seen at “The Improv”. Fast food joints were packed on Friday nights here in the big city, where grease and coke were accepted late night indulgences. The young man, dressed in jeans and t-shirt with his large black backpack, fit well in this “American Graffiti” scene.
He was quite thirsty, that’s why he was considering to “super size”. He had come downtown to do his assignment and he had chosen this popular American hangout as an appropriate place for his work. He had been in school for four years and he had had some of the best teachers in the world, but now he was looking forward to finishing. He had grown tired of studying. Just like all students that long to enter the real world, the young man was ready to leave.
Laura started to consciously tap the counter, her chunky little fingers with blood red fingernails tap dancing like contorted circus elephants. She said to herself, “Ok, just a regular combo” and began to total his order.
A desert makes one very thirsty. The young man had been in a wilderness for a long time. His parents had brought him to America when he was five. Though he had assimilated and advanced in everything he did, he always felt different. Other. And he always felt thirsty. That’s why you need an oasis in the wilderness. A watering hole brings people in from far and wide. In a way, this burger joint reminded him of his summer camps watering horses in the desolate mountains. And of thirst.
“Yeah, give…give me a super size.”
The curly-headed cashier looked for the first time into the handsome stranger’s sad dark eyes. “Wha—?” She quickly returned her eyes to the keyboard, hurriedly picked the wax out of her left ear and deleted her previous input with the now correct information.
The restaurant was filling up now. Five lines had formed behind the counter as the crest of life was overflowing with obnoxious jokes, pretentious giggles, and back-slapping antics.
Growing up in America was a desert—all the conveniences of modernity but a desolate row of fulfillment. Still, the now smiling young man had found something to latch onto through his studies. Like the philosophy professor who woos you with his enlightened airs, the young man had found his education to be alluring. Something that gives you hope and passion. No longer listless, the young man devoured life during his last years of classes.
“Your burger and fries, sir, and…your super size coke.” The young man’s perspiration pooled under his sunken eyes. The thirst was killing him. Why had he ordered a meal? He wasn’t hungry.
His backpack was straining like a metal chain that binds its prisoner. One last assignment and then graduation. The young man popped a straw into the ice-filled, overflowing beverage holder and began ingesting the caramel-flavored liquid like a camel reconstituting its lost reserves. As the young man continued sucking past the 32 ounce cup’s half way point, Laura already in the middle of another customer’s order, stole a look at her former indecisive customer.
All the young people jammed in ordering grilled red meat with crimson ketchup and glowing pickles, starchy potatoes fried in canola oil and this sugary sweet drink that had conquered the world over from Chile to China, and Saskatchewan to Saudi Arabia.
The young man’s last slurps signaled his cup’s completion. He started to walk off. “Sir, you forgot your meal!” The young man with his backpack, never looked back in the direction of the gelatinous cashier. All were like hungry sheep without a shepherd; the consumers being consumed as flesh fried.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Blogging from the Big Apple
we've decided to enter the world of "the blog." don't be scared, we haven't joined a cult and our brains have not been sucked out by straw-toting martians. we are just going to blog away. That means we will be posting our updates from New York on the internet so you can access them at your own discretion. in the future we'll send out emails every so often to tell you to checkout this site. you can also just check it out for the relaxation that it will bring to your domicile. we'll also post some photos and other things. maybe we'll digitally catch some rats and roaches. who knows...the world has all of sudden become a "bloggier" place.
gary
gary
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Attack of the Roaches
this is long, but you can print it off and read it to your children for bedtime reading.
FIRST OFF, Mr. Chan sightings: 0
for all those overly curious people out there, we have not yet met or seen our landlord, the mysterious Mr. Chan (though we see his father everyday constantly working in the yard behind our apartment. his current project is laying concrete over the entire "yard". we talk to Mr. Chan on the phone every once in awhile when the roaches try taking our large cutlery and oversized orange spatulas captive, but otherwise we have a very honorable "Forbidden City" relationship with the undetectable Mr. Chan who lives in Fresh Meadows, NY.
we are enjoying the apartment except for the Asian cockroaches that frequent our ONLY kitchen drawer in which we keep our spatulas, knives, serving spoons, etc. we never have food laying out but the roaches are fond of climbing up from the sink drain that connects with the downstairs chinese food joint. these roaches have a vile affection for this drawer containing our big utensils. they congregate in there, sometimes two, three, four...just hanging out and shooting the breeze. when we open the drawer, they know the drill... sharon grabs the butcher's knife, i jump out of the way, the roaches fall to the floor scurrying for blessed dark refuge but usually incurring the dreaded stomp of sharon's sandal.
DESCRIPTION OF OUR NEIGHBORHOOD AND SUCH:
We live in Brooklyn in East Williamsburg. It can be described as a ghetto/barrio...an up and coming neighborhood for hipsters. one of our faculty, a hispanic hailing from the bronx has classified our location as "Boogie Town". where we live is mainly puerto rican, dominican, some orthodox jews, and african american. we definitely enjoy the diversity and feel right at home.
Our neighborhood can be described as "lot's of 99-cent stores and chinese food to go (plus some fried chicken and goat tacos)". also lots of trash and some graffiti. the most popular store down the street is "Fat Albert's". to maneuver in our neighborhood for shopping and washing clothes, everyone (and now we) owns a cart that you push around for anything and everything. our grocery store has bars at its entrance to prevent shopping carts from exiting the store (among other things). because property is so valuable and scarce in the city, all stores have tighter isles and therefore the stores are and feel more crowded. you can get a sense of claustrophobia even in your own apartment (but ours isn't that bad).
our apartment has been pretty good, all except, the city deciding to rip up the streets all over our neighborhood ever since we moved in and working day and night outside our window. besides that we just press the button and acclimate.
PEOPLE WE'VE SEEN:
Late August, Yony Buth came to visit for 6 days. As should be duly noted, we moved into our apartment on Monday and Yony arrived two days later to help us break our couch in. Yony came to see the US Open for tennis and especially Andre Agassi. We had no luck the first day as tickets were sold out for the main stadium. Yony and Sharon eventually were able to finagle their way through the usher saying that Yony was a poor boy from California who only wanted to eat the crumbs from Agassi's table. They got to see almost half of Agassi's match the day before he left. He promises to come back with more freelancing friends in tow to utilize our strategic domain.
We've met with Asha Moorthy, a friend from Hebrew U. a couple of times. One time in particular at Central Park on shabbat. She's doing her doctorate at Columbia on circumcision. so obviously, we've had some good talks.
We saw Joanna Woo, a Canadian friend from Israel, for one day. She was in town visiting her brother with her mother. she, her mother and we took the ferry out to the statue of liberty and ellis island. it was an amazing learning experience about american immigration during the last two hundred years. after catching up with joanna, we bid farewell and sharon and i headed to the empire state building for a late night visit just like in all the romance movies. and of course we had a "disagreement" just like in all the romance movies. and it was just beautiful.
We also met up with Robynne Brookenstein from Jerusalem a Jewish friend that sharon first met back in the mid-90's at Hebrew University . robynne had organized a gathering of church friends at the Bohemian Beer Gardens run by Sudetenland Checks (sharon recognized a type of bread dumpling she had in slovakia on someone's plate). its amazing how many different ethnicities have their stomping grounds around NYC.
We just recently returned from Rockport, Massachusetts (one hour north of Boston) where we had a welcome break from all of our teaching and the intensity of New York urban living. A friend, Anne Davis, invited us up for the weekend and we gladly accepted. Her place was on the coast looking out into the breakers. We had lobster, sword fish, haddock, and so on. We visited Salem where the puritan witch trials happened in 1620 (for more info read Arthur Miller's "The Crucible".) we visited the witch museum, nathaniel hawthorne's "the house of the seven gables" and learned about new england's early settlers and sailors at different places. by the way, salem is the halloween capital of america.
TEACHING:
Yep, that's why we came here, to teach Bible to college students. of course, what exactly defines a college student today in America and especially in urban New York, we had no idea. we have a culturally-diverse student body... i would say 20% asian, 10% white, 30% black, 30% hispanic, and 10% everything else you could imagine. most of our students work. many of them are married with children or single moms. we have some returning senior adults who have never been to college before. so needless to say, none of our students are in a sorority hoping to be homecoming queen this fall. they have many responsibilities in the real world and because of that, sometimes, they have a hard time showing up on time to class with their homework. therefore we as teachers can be challenged.
Our Hebrew class is about 13 students (we lost one). things have been going relatively well. things are going slower than we had hoped for, but we're rolling with the punches.
My New Testament class and Acts class have been OK to pretty good. i teach them back to back on Mondays, 6 straight hours. my biggest struggle is trying to get people to ask the right questions and express themselves in an academic environment which is foreign to many of them. plus there are serious writing deficiencies from a number of students. I am learning as i go to adapt and meet them where they are. Sharon and I have started a tradition of getting this amazing Bangladeshi food after my classes and before Sharon's Esther-Ruth class. $5 a plate.
Sharon's Old Testament class (according to sharon but with my metaphors) can be characterized as:
A) mardi gras (minus the beads and beer)
B) a train out of control careening toward chaos
C) high school 101 detention center
D) endless hamster wheel of "please stop talking in the back!"
Let's put it this way, sharon had ambitious plans to feed the hungry urban youth with biblical knowledge (kind of like the movie "Stand and Deliver" in which an AP Calculus teacher takes some students and pushes them to academic greatness). Yet as Sharon has taught this particular OT class, she has metaphorically gone from teaching the Genesis' Flood on academic level with Gilgamesh to a TV culture of Gilligan (the professor and mary ann, here on gilligan's isle!) as she tries to somehow communicate the bible's ancient context in a modern urban environment. it has been a struggle to get some of them to listen, let alone to learn (and write a complete sentence).
Sharon's Esther and Ruth class on the other hand has been interesting and provocative. Lots of discussion with many vocal student opinions. I get to sit in on the class after teaching my classes that day.
FINALLY, some things we have EXPERIENCED. Some things we have LEARNED. about New York.
- If you go to Times Square Church, make sure you go VERY early if you want to get into the auditorium. we ended up watching the service in an overflow room. it was very interesting because we actually had 5 choir members leading us in the overflow room in worship.
- Rats play tag and carouse on the New York subway rails. Don't believe the hype, the New York rat population is healthy, wealthy, and wise. Yony Buth was a witness.
- Buy your bed sheets on the street for $10 (no tax).
- (From Sharon) There is a distinct dialect of English here where they delete the articles. all "t's" at the end of syllables are glottal stops. (like saying "manha'en" "it's wri'en in a book") New York is still very much a living immigrant city which blends all types of pigeon englishes into a lingua new yorka.
- People are friendly.
- People ask for your money on the subways but you're not suppose to give it. Occasionally they do gymnastics that inspires the crowd to give.
- It's hot in September (especially without air conditioning).
So, sorry, this has been so long, but its a quick glimpse into our life and times. will be talking with you later.
Gary and Sharon Alley
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