How To Learn Greek And Latin

Every once in a while friends and acquaintances approach me and ask what books they should use to learn Greek or Latin. Oddly not many ask me how to learn the language, which to me misses probably the more important issue. I decided to do something I don’t do anymore, blog, in order to lay out a thorough answer to this question that will be all in one place for convenience. My hope is that these will be useful to anyone wondering about Greek or Latin, whether that’s Classical or Ecclesial/Theological, though I will mostly be addressing students of theology and pastors directly.

I studied Greek and Latin at the University of Minnesota. Before that I did some work in biblical languages at North Central University. In addition I’ve done a semester of German and a summer intensive in theological German. None of which is to say I’m an expert, but it is to say I’ve been taught languages in different ways from different establishments with different books. At North Central I learned Koine through induction with a textbook composed by the professor. At the U of M I learned from Classical scholars educated in traditional methods, which is to say more deductive, yet the textbooks for each language were quite different. While I admit there are a variety of learning styles, as there are merits to different pedagogical approaches, I will say off the bat that I found the systematic and brutal method of the U of M far more effective for retaining what I learned, even to this day when I am not currently as active working in the languages.

For the first two semesters we were in class five days a week and at least two hours of homework were expected of us every night. We learned all the nuts and bolts of fundamental morphology and syntax which was then progressively expanded in later semesters. The third semester jumped right into unaltered primary source texts in prose. In Latin Cicero and Caesar, in Greek Plato and Lysius. Class met three times a week but there was still a great deal of homework expected. Fourth semester was poetry: Virgil and Homer (The Odyssey, thank the gods). Classes after this varied according to the desires of the teachers but were graduate-level. I was lucky enough to have a class reading The Venerable Bede and unlucky enough to have one on Tacitus. Plato’s Republic, pseudo-homeric hymns, and byzantine poetry filled in my major on the Greek side. Classes still met thrice weekly and pretty much only majors and grad students were left at this level.

What did I learn from this?

To learn an ancient language you must take the time, over and again, for several years in order to become proficient at reading.

You’ll always need access to lexicons, especially in Greek, but if you are gonna look at a word and be able to tell that it’s part of an articular infinitive you can’t get by with a semester or two, doing as little homework as possible, and meeting but a couple times a week.

It is for this reason that I am sympathetic with seminaries that struggle with how to teach or if to require, Greek and Hebrew. It’s been my experience that a little bit of knowledge in a language is a dangerous thing, leading to ridiculous and untenable interpretations. For many, therefore, it may be best to stick to a translation and regularly refer to commentaries of many kinds in order to inform their work.

And yet – but first a story. My best friend is a Hebrew Bible Phd student at Harvard. We were recently chatting and he told me about his experience taking a NT course. “It’s interesting to see the differences between the OT and NT students”, he said. “How do you mean?”, I replied. “Well, the NT students don’t really know that much about the NT and barely know the languages. They know plenty about French philosophers but not much about the Bible.”

“Theology” surely is an extraordinarily large umbrella that can include a nearly endless assortment of methods approaching an equally infinite number of topics, but I still believe that Scripture is the primary source from which theologians and pastors ought to draw. If your task is to preach from it every week, or if it’s yours to compose books and essays that draw out its implications, I can’t imagine why the study of its texts should be viewed with such skepticism. And if Scripture is entirely dispensable for your work, then we probably have different views on many things. Though scholars who don’t approach Scripture from faith arguably take the original languages far more seriously than anti-intellectual pastors. Maybe instead of cutting Hebrew, seminaries ought to drop a couple of those four required homiletics courses?

Next post we’ll move to books and specifics.


Favorite Albums of 2013: There Are Many Lists, But This One Is Mine

I am still working through other people’s end of year lists, and so this can only be considered provisional. (Check some out –David CongdonNPR, Pitchfork, Metacritic, MPR)  Nevertheless, here is the next in what is probably my longest running blog series. Links are to exemplary tunes. (* Marks an album especially worth checking out)

Best Albums in the tradition of 90s Awesomeness:
My Bloody Valentine, M.B.V.*
No JoyWait To Pleasure*
Fury Things, Fury Things*
Owel, Owel 
Appleseed Cast, Illumination Ritual

Best Atmospheric: 
Hammock, Oblivion Hymns*
Juliana Barwick, Nepenthe
Olafur Arnalds, For Now I Am Winter

Albums I Wanted To Like:
Deerhunter, Monomaniac
Savages, Silence Yourself

Albums I Did Not Expect to Like But Did:
Kanye West, Yeezus*
Phoenix, Bankrupt!

Best Album By a Former Member of N’Sync:
Justin Timberlake, The 20/20 Experience, 1 of 2

Best Electronica – Dance, Pop, Instrumental, w/ Singing, Dark, Mixed, and Otherwise:
Chvrches, The Bones of What You Believe*
Polica, Shulamith
Tegan And Sarah, Heartthrob
Daft Punk, Random Access Memories*
Disclosure, Settle*
Gold Panda, Half of Where You Live
Jon Hopkins, Immunity*
Classixx, Hanging Gardens
Daniel Avery, Drone Logic
Oneohtrix Point Never, R Plus Seven
The Knife, Shaking the Habitual

Best Mix of Surfy Dream Pop and Black Metal That Reminds Me of Zao’s Where Blood and Fire Bring Rest:
Deafheaven, Sunbather*

Best Old-Timey New Music:
The Bryan Ferry Orchestra, The Jazz Age*
– Also winner of sexiest song
Preservation Hall Jazz Band, That’s It!
Mavis Staples, One True Vine
Anais Mitchell & Jefferson Hamer, Child Ballads
Glen Jones, My Garden State

Best, uuuhhhh, Indie Stuff(?):
Local Natives, Hummingbird
Low, The Invisible Way
Iron & Wine, Ghost on Ghost
Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Mosquito
The National, Trouble Will Find Me
Keaton Henson, Birthdays
Little Green Cars, Absolute Zero
Beach Fossils, Clash the Truth
Neko Case, The Worse Things Get, The Harder I Fight, The Harder I Fight, The                                  More I Love You
Volcano Choir, Repave*
Owen, L’Ami du Peuple
Arcade Fire, Reflektor*
Parquet Courts, Light Up Gold + All The Things That You Broke
Dawn of Midi, Dysnomia
Washed Out, Paracosm
Vampire Weekend, Modern Vampires of the City*
Marnie Stern, The Chronicles of Marnia

Best Sacred:
Caleb Burhans, Evensong
Bifrost Arts, He Will Not Cry Out

Best Album By a Trio of Sisters Rockin Guitars and Harmonies:
Haim, Days Are Gone*

Best Guilty Pleasure:
Lissie, Back To Forever

Best Folk & Country:
Kacey Musgraves, Same Trailer Different Park
Jason Isbell, Southeastern*
The Civil Wars, The Civil Wars
Laura Marling, Once I Was an Eagle
Mutual BenefitLove’s Crushing Diamond*

Best Hip-Hop, R&B:
Caroline Smith, Half About Being a Woman
Rhye, Woman*
Mayer Hawthorne, Where Does This Door Go
London Grammar, If You Wait
James Blake, Overgrown
Aby Wolf, Wolf Lords
Blood Orange, Cupid Deluxe

Most Heartbreaking And Cathartic Album:
Daughter, If You Leave

Most Trailblazing Album For an Established Band:
Sigur Ros, Kveikur*

No Explanation Needed:
Chris Thile, Bach Sonatas and Partitas, Vol. I*

Favorite Record of the Year:

Youth Lagoon, Wondrous Bughouse

I’m not under the illusion that this can somehow lay claim, in an objective sense, to the best album of 2013 – it’s far down on most lists if present at all – but there is something about the weirdness of the record, the uncomfortable beauty, the exploration of in-between spaces, that grips me. It’s explicitly a metaphysical record, a making-the-familiar-odd record, and in that sense an analogical record.

Sermon: Proper 5, The Third Sunday after Pentecost (RCL Year C, Track 2)

Preached 9 June 2013, Episcopal Cathedral of St. John, Albuquerque

You may have heard the variation of that old joke about the wife who is trying to get her husband out of bed on Sunday morning.  He’s says, “I don’t want to go church this morning.”  And the wife says, “I really think you should.”  And the husband says, “Why” And the wife says, “Because I really think you need to hear the sermon this morning.” The husband says, “How do you know?” And she says, “You left it open on the computer when you finished writing it last night.”

I can assure you Deborah didn’t have any trouble getting me out of bed this morning.  I am excited to be here, but after reading it over again this morning I realize this sermon is definitely something I need to hear.

When hearing these lessons, the thing that my mind goes to right away is the pain that these mothers, these widows must have felt at the death of the children.  In the reading from 1 Kings, we have a widow, who in the passage just previous to ours was preparing a final meal for her and her son, expecting that after that last meal they would die of starvation.  Elijah comes along, asks her to make him some food. When she does, her supplies are miraculously multiplied and she and her son are saved from starvation.  And, then, just like that, her son dies.  And she turns to Elijah and says, “Is this some cruel joke?  Did God save my son from starvation just to have him die?

As a father of one, with another child on the way, as someone who in the past has felt the pain of miscarriage, as someone who has stood by as people very close to me have dealt with infertility, I can only just begin to understand the devastation of losing a child, or of not being able to have children.  It is a devastation that I couldn’t adequately put into words even if I wanted to.  But it is an important aspect of our Old Testament and Gospel readings this morning.  The biblical writers only hint at the agony these mothers, these two widows, must have felt at the death of their children.

These two readings remind me of another story, found in 2 Kings, in which Elijah’s protégé, Elisha, encounters another woman who extends hospitality toward him, and when he finds out that she and her husband cannot have children, he prays and she conceives and gives birth to a son, only to have that son die several years later.  And there again is that heart-rending question, why?  Why God did you give me this gift only to take it away?  In fact the Bible is full of these stories, having to do with children, of couples who have trouble conceiving, of children nearly dying, or dying, of sometimes getting raised back to life, and sometimes not.  There are literally dozens of stories like this in both the old and new testaments.  What does all this say about us, about children, and about God?

As mentioned earlier, my wife and I are expecting our second child, so I have been brooding about these questions for some time before I began preparing this sermon.  I have been experiencing what is hopefully a normal phenomena; I call it world-nesting, where I not only want to make a place for my unborn daughter in our home, I want to make a place for her in the world, meaning I feel compelled to solve all the world’s problems for her, make everything perfect; you know real quick, I’ll just figure out a way to end violence in our schools in between painting the nursery and buying a new crib.  Ask Deborah, when she is pregnant, I become the recycling Nazi, because I don’t want the world my little girl grows up in to be a dump.  The morning paper becomes my to-do list for things in the world that need fixing before it is safe to bring my daughter into it.  And of course I can’t get past the first headline.  And then a few weeks ago, I ran across an interview with the theologian, Stanley Hauerwas.  Dr. Hauerwas was asked about radical Christianity, radical in the sense of counter the culture of this world, radical in the sense of living into the strange and revolutionary ways of the Kingdom of God.  He was asked, what was the most radical thing a Christian could do?  Here was his answer:

“One of the most radical things that being Christian commits you to is the willingness to have the patience to have children.  It’s very radical.  What it means to have a child is to learn to live without control.  And to learn to live out of control.  We try to become very good at controlling the world, to make the world safe for children.  And as soon as you try to make sure that your children are not at risk, because you want to make sure they can get out of life alive, then you do them a disservice.  This is a dangerous world.  And by being a Christian, it makes it more dangerous.”

The willingness to have the patience to have children, it just hit me like a ton of bricks.  As much as I like to be in control, or more accurately, as much as I enjoy the quaint illusion that I are in control, I cannot hold onto that as a parent, and we cannot hold on to that as followers of Jesus.  We are not in control.  That is the first message of the stories of the two widows who lost their sons.  The world is a dangerous place, and none of us, and none of our loved ones can make it out of life alive.

So why, why does God give us children, why does God give us anyone to love, why does God give us a caring community, only for it all to go away?  It is easy to give in to fear, to become pessimistic, or nihilistic.  It’s easy to wonder what the point of it all is. But then we come to the second message of our two readings. I like how Hauerwas puts it:

“Christians have children, in great part, in order to be able to tell our children the story. Fortunately for us, children love stories. It is our baptismal responsibility to tell this story to our young, to live it before them, to take time to be parents in a world that (although intent on blowing itself to bits) is God’s creation (a fact we could not know without this story). We have children as a witness that the future is not left up to us and that life, even in a threatening world, is worth living—and not because ‘Children are the hope of the future,” but because God is the hope of the future.

Christians do not place their hope in their children, but rather their children are a sign of hope, in spite of the considerable evidence to the contrary, that God has not abandoned this world.  Because we have confidence in God, we find the confidence in ourselves to bring new life into this world.”

That is why children were the most important people to Jesus.  Why he had compassion on the widow and raised her son from the dead. That is why we must have the faith of a child to enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.  That is why our most important job as Christians is to be patient and caring toward our children, and not just our own children, but the children in our church and our wider community.  In fact, it is why we must be patient and caring toward all those who do not have anything to offer in return, because that act bears witness to the grace and compassion of a God who, in our weakness, came among us, became weak with us, and showed us a better way, a way of redemption and reconciliation and peace for all.  When Jesus raised the widow’s son from the dead, the people exclaimed, “God has visited his people.”  God has not abandoned the world, quite to the contrary, Christ on the cross abandoned himself to the world, and for the world.

And so we must be patient.  And that after all is what ordinary time is about.  If Easter is about Resurrection, about Christ conquering death, if Pentecost is about the coming of the Holy Spirit and the establishment of the church, then Ordinary Time, the time after Pentecost, is about patience.  Patience means trusting in the promise of Easter in the face of everyday life, both its mundane parts, and its incredibly painful parts.  Patience belongs to the ones who accept that they are not in control, the ones who know that through patient caring for one another, for the weak and for the vulnerable, we can live into what we are destined to be as the church: a sign that God has not abandoned the world.  Amen.

Easter IV – 2013: John 10:22-30


John 10:22-30

I vividly remember the first time I felt completely unprotected.  In fact, as an adult reflecting back on the event, I am more horrified than I was experiencing it as a child.  It’s one of my earliest memories; I was just three or four years old.  My father, who was then a young man in his twenties, had a friend who was over, showing off a new convertible sports car.  A sports car that my father, in all of his paternal wisdom, had refused to let me near.  They were saying their goodbyes, and I, a willful child that had spent the better part of the day begging for a ride in the two-seater, decided it was time to take matters into my own hands.  My father’s friend had not understood what the big deal about the car was, so when I climbed into the small space between the driver and passenger seats as he was leaving, I remember him saying, “Let’s have a little fun with your old man.”

The engine roared to life, the car jumped forward, and then swayed lithely from side to side as the air around us filled with the screech and stink of spinning tires.  As a child that spent life drifting little matchbox cars around imaginary race tracks in my mother’s yard, I was in ecstasy.  I felt my stomach hug my spine in an awkward embrace as the tires grabbed the asphalt and the car surged forward.  The moment was testosterone fueled bliss until I turned to look over my shoulder at my dad, thinking he would be just as excited as I was.  My father was shrinking quickly, but the look of panic was growing.  Of course, all my little eyes could interpret on my father’s face was anger, so I began immediately to plead with his friend to turn around and take me back.  He said, “Sorry, I’m already on the road, and I have a quick errand to run.  I’ll bring you back later.”  I remember feeling vulnerable, helpless, and completely convinced that the look on my father’s face meant bad things for me.  So, I did what any reasonable terrified child would do.  I lashed out like a cat trying to dodge a bath.  I kicked, screamed, bit, and pulled hair. 

Today, I think back and am amazed that he was able to keep the car on the road with a feral preschooler attacking his face.  Needless to say, I made it home and was not permanently harmed in the incident, though, I never saw my dad with that friend again.  For me, the enduring lesson of that day is that there are circumstances that will leave us feeling unprotected and out-of-control.  It was obviously a powerful moment for me as a person, because it was the day that the childhood illusion of safety was broken.  All things considered, though, it is a nice story to tell because it is also a safe lesson.  There was no lasting harm.  We might even be able to enjoy the humor of visualizing a raging toddler wrapped around the head of a man driving down the road in a convertible.

The unfortunate reality that this world is not a safe place remains, however.  It is harsh, but nonetheless true, that many people learn that they can be made vulnerable in violent and horrific ways.  Some are made vulnerable by having their source of protection snatched away by accident or illness. 

And, of course, we all gather today with a sense of questioning and grief.  We are concerned, and we contemplate the losses that we as a nation have suffered because of recent events.  Around our country this week, (and I assure you around the world,) so many innocent people learned that they can be made vulnerable – that this world can be an unsafe place.

We have the happy coincidence of a Gospel reading that addresses these exact issues this week.

Of particular interest, especially in light of recent tragedies which include the bombings at the Boston Marathon, is the fact that John utilizes an exchange between Jesus and “the Jews” in the Temple at the Feast of Dedication to illuminate a new paradigm.  This feast is probably better known to us as Hanukah.  It is significant that the Jews ask a question about whether Jesus is the Messiah at the Temple during the Feast of Dedication, because this is the very Temple Judah “the Hammer,” or Judas Maccabeus, defeated the Seleucid army, winning back the Jews’ right to worship freely.  It’s an event retold in your Bible in the book of 1 Maccabees.

As a result of his heroics, Judah “the Hammer” earned a spot among other beloved leaders in Jewish history.  He stood out along with the likes of King David as a warrior-leader, and many began to wonder whether he was the promised Messiah.  We know from other passages in the Gospels that some near Jesus expected that he would fulfill their desires for a warrior-king in likeness of King David or Judas Maccabeus.  They waited for a courageous leader that would lead the Jewish faithful in an uprising that would bring down an oppressive Roman occupation and elevate Israel to its former glory.  It’s likely that these Jews in John chapter 10 had a similar hope in mind when they ask Jesus to demonstrate plainly whether he is the Messiah during the Feast of Dedication.

Jesus’ response, then, might have come as somewhat of a shock when he explains that he has already demonstrated clearly that he is the Messiah.  They sought proof of an insurrection, but he calmly explains that one of Yahweh’s other promises has already been fulfilled in their midst.  Jesus recalls imagery of the promised shepherd of Israel in his response.  While many throughout the Jews’ history were intended by God to fulfill the role of protector and nurturer, they all had failed.  Jesus points out that the signs and teaching he provides are proof positive that he is the Good Shepherd of Israel.

It is somehow fitting, during this terrible week that we read a passage where many Jews found themselves under oppression, yearning for the justice and retribution that a military hero would bring, only to find a Messiah that planned to bring about a different reality, a Messiah that promised to fill a different need.

This passage in John provides an opportunity for even deeper reflection, though.  Present in this passage is a demonstration of the early church’s struggle with the person of Christ.    For the first few centuries of Christianity, scholars and church leaders wrestled with the paradox of Jesus’ dual natures.  It was their struggle, and interestingly enough, it remains one of our struggles.  Just how should we understand the person of Jesus Christ?  How does Jesus exist as the eternal God that became truly human?

The answer comes in part from how St. John handles our Gospel reading today.  When Jesus claims to be the Messiah by fulfilling the promise of the Good Shepherd he does so by giving a simple equation with a surprise twist that shocked the Jews.

Jesus tells them, the answer that they seek has been plainly revealed, but they don’t believe, because they do not belong.  Here’s how he says it works: the Father sent Jesus, the works Jesus does in the Father’s name testify about his status as the one being sent.

Jesus’ ability to work signs is God’s ratification of his ministry and status. God’s ratification comes, because Jesus is a righteous, loving, obedient son.  According to Jesus, all of this is possible in the first place, because Jesus the Son, and God the Father are One.

In John, Jesus declares that we can know what God is like by seeing what Jesus does.  In his declaration as Messiah, Jesus drops a bomb and essentially says, “Your promised deliverer isn’t just sent from God, He is God.”  Further, Jesus explains that his purpose in coming is to make the Father known.  And here is an essential lesson in our theology.  If you want to know what God is really like, look at what Jesus does.

Up to this point in Jewish history, God’s chosen people have relied upon the Old Testament to be a demonstration of God’s true nature and will.  This is a difficult thing, even for the Jews, because the Old Testament is comprised of many documents that are in tension with not only each of the other documents but also within themselves.  For centuries, the Jews were left puzzling out what God was like through the way they saw him acting in their own history.  Consequently, as they texts of the Old Testament follow the historical events of the Israelites, you see how the people interpreted their experiences in relation to God.  When they were obedient and victorious, God was a bloody warrior-king or a majestic-mysterious presence right in their midst.  When they suffered oppression for their sinfulness as a nation, God was distant and indifferent to their plight – he was an absentee father or a scorned lover.

Regardless of the ways these texts point to how God was acting in Jewish history, one huge problem remained for the Jews (and remains for us).  God was transcendent.  He was distant and enormous.  He was “out there,” even when he was acting on their behalf or sitting in the holy of holies.  God remained utterly unknowable and totally unassailable.

But in our Gospel reading Jesus promises that God can now be known, because he is here in the flesh.  Working backward through Jesus’ own statements; if he and the Father are one, then the works that demonstrate his Messianic identity are also the works of the Father.  We need Jesus to show us what God is like in terms we can understand.  God, being eternal and transcendent, becomes knowable through his own humanity.  Consequently, we have a clear way to understand what God is like.  We just have to look at Jesus.

It is a powerful declaration, then, that when pressed in the temple at the Feast of Dedication to prove whether he was the Messiah (you should understand this to mean, “If you’re the Messiah we expect, then it’s time to get with the military campaign”) he prefers to be the Good Shepherd and not the Warrior-King.  When faced with the plight of humanity and the oppression of the Israelites, Jesus chose to be a protector, healer, teacher, and priest – a suffering servant.  He did not choose to incite rebellion, to call down angelic armies, or debilitate the regime of the oppressor – he is not, here, a conquering hero.  All of this is particularly significant, because he expects us to receive his actions, miracles, and signs as a direct expression of what God is like.


Many of us will struggle with this, especially in light of recent events.  We want evil to be eradicated criminals to be apprehended, and perpetrators to be punished.  When we are robbed of security and peace, we want the thing that disturbed our lives to be removed, abolished, or controlled.  These are exactly the kinds of things the Jews wanted their Messiah to do for them.  Instead, he taught with patience, healed with compassion, loved with no boundaries…

In the midst of shocking realities like the fact that Jesus represents God in the unity of the Holy Trinity or that his purpose as Messiah would be to deal with the hurt of humanity through love and healing, we might just miss the promise in this morning’s text.  So, let’s read it again…

“My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.  I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand.  What my Father has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand.”

We find that all of this is happening in our own lives within the larger context of Eastertide.  So, what should we do in light of the Resurrection?  Of all the metaphors that Jesus’ uses for his relationship to the world, you’ll find many of them rely heavily on a notion of companionship.  Among others he is the Vine that abides, the Bread that sustains, the Water that quenches, the Light that endures, and (here) the Shepherd that is known by his sheep.  Why do the sheep know his voice?  Because they know him, and because they abide with him.

It is because of this, and because as Christians that intentionally follow the pattern of Christ’s life year in and year out, that we understand that walking with Christ in his suffering, in his death, and in his resurrection means that we ought to do those things that he has done.  By participating in his life, and doing those things he gave us to do by example, we are enacting the will of God in this world.  We become participants in the building of his kingdom, energized and enabled by the power of the resurrection.

Therefore, we could not have hoped for a more clear indication of how to respond to the evil we see in this world.  In being shepherded by the Good Shepherd, we learn what it means to be a shepherd to others – to protect, to guard, to love, and to serve others.  These are the actions of God himself in the face of suffering, pain, and evil.

So, what exactly does shepherding others look like?  I know it has become somewhat kitschy to quote at this point, but as the British wartime adage goes, “Keep Calm and Carry On.”

It’s simple.  It’s succinct.  It points to the fact that many of you have spent lives dedicated to bringing about good.  Just because evil rears its ugly head in horrific ways, it doesn’t mean that your work is in vain.  It means that we must continue to do good work, to continue to train others to do good work, to support and love those that have not yet learned how.  It means that we continue to shepherd in our own small ways, in spite of pain or trouble.  Keep calm and carry on in your good work.

Allow me to suggest that you already know the voice of the shepherd, and in turn know what to do to shepherd others.

First, you should pray.  I learned quickly this week that I did not want to spend a lot of time reading news reports on the internet, especially the comment sections.  One commenter, presumably of some faith or other, stated early that she was praying for all those in Boston.  Another person, presumably of no faith, commented back, “Yeah, sure, pray…great way to make yourself feel like your doing some good without actually doing anything.  What a waste of time.”  I have to admit that my initial reaction was, “well, there might be a point there” and it bothered me – but, the more I reflected on it, I began to realize nothing was further from the truth.  When we engage in genuine prayer, we are not only petitioning action from our God, we are also making a concerted effort to humble ourselves and be changed by the Holy Spirit.  If everyone in this world made a genuine effort to purge their lives of selfish ambition, pride, and all those things that drove us to act only in our own interest and not in the interest of others, this world would indeed be a different place.  WE would be a different people.  Pray.  Pray for yourself and pray for others.

Second, you should give.  I know the immediate thing that jumps to mind is giving economic resources, and it’s logical.  We constitute a physical people in a physical church with physical needs.  We all give in order to continue the ministries of this church.  But, please, do not stop there.  Do not underestimate how much it means to others in this community when you give of yourself.  When you volunteer your time, your talents, and energy, you are giving sacrificially.  It is a personal sacrifice that is meaningful, valuable to the community.  It is a sacrifice that is pleasing to the Lord, and beneficial to your own growth.  Give.  Give out of your resources.  Give out of your time.  Give out of your abilities.  Give of yourself and give to others.

Third, you should worship.  Our personal acts of worship are for the glory of God, but there are beneficial to us personally and to our congregation.  When we bless God and each other with our worship, we both demonstrate and proclaim that the light of the world cannot be overcome.  When violence seeks to silence, we should sing louder.  When despair tries to darken, we should shine brighter.  When evil threatens to steal our hope, we should trust our Savior and throw ourselves at his feet with abandon.  When we come together to worship we encourage and strengthen each other.  I must confess that I was eager to get to church this morning – both to check on you and to connect with you.  Your presence here is valuable.  Your hugs, your smiles, and your interactions make this a wonderful place to be.  Your worship helps the light of Easter to shine more brightly.

In seeing the actions of Jesus we know the character of God; and in sharing the power of his resurrection we are enable to so behave.  Because he is the Good Shepherd, we are able to shepherd others.  These are the basis of our ability to see the weak and the vulnerable protected.  They are the foundation of our confidence that the light of good, that the light of Easter, will continue to overcome the darkness in this fallen world.  Alleluia! Christ is risen!

A Different Kind of List: 2012 Music Favorites

Tony Sig

In years past I have offered a “best of” list for a year’s worth of music, knowing full well that such a list is limited and subjective. But everyone offers these lists, so this year I will be more creative and even more subjective.

Some Favorite Female Artists

First Aid Kit, The Lion’s Roar
Sharon Van Etten, Tramp
Norah Jones, Little Broken Hearts (A mature step forward for this artist)
Best Coast, The Only Place
Favorite Guitar Tone

Mint,” from Kathleen Edwards’ Voyageur
Runner Up: Japandroids, Celebration Rock <— Also winner of Best Record From Canadians
Favorite Local Record, Favorite Record With Two Drummers, & The New Minneapolis Sound

POLICA, Give You The Ghost
Most Culturally Astute Record

Anais Mitchell, Young Man In America
Runner Up: Passion Pit, Gossamer
Favorite Record That’s Actually Pretty Good But Only Famous For One Single

Gotye, Making Mirrors
Record Full Of The Most Beautiful Short Little Pop Ballads You Ever Heard

Perfume Genius, Put Your Back N 2 It
Best Indie Rock LPs That I Rather Like But Probably Won’t Listen To In A Year

The Men, Open Your Heart
Metz, METZ
Spiritualized, Sweet Heart Sweet Light
Best Indie Rock LPs That I Rather Like And Will Listen To In A Year

Cloud Nothings, Attack On Memory
Alt-J, An Awesome Wave
Albums That Were Predictably Fantastic Since They Come From Predictably Fantastic Artists

Andrew Bird, Break It Yourself, & Hands of Glory
Beach House, Bloom
The Tallest Man On Earth, There’s No Leaving Now
The Walkmen, Heaven
Favorite Nostalgic Records

Twin Shadow, Confess
J. D. McPherson, Signs & Signifiers
Records In A Genre I Normally Don’t Listen To, R&B, But Were So Good I Listened To Them Over And Over

Frank Ocean, channel ORANGE
Bobby Womack, The Bravest Man In The Universe
Best Record By A Former Drummer of Fleet Foxes

Father John Misty, Fear Fun
Records That I Wanted To Like More But Was Mostly Bored With

Sigur Ros, Valtari
The xx, Coexist
Records Of Outstanding Quality

Punch Brothers, Who’s Feeling Young Now?
Grizzly Bear, Shields
Jack White, Blunderbuss
Hammock, Departure Songs
Bat For Lashes, The Haunted Man

There are about a dozen or so more records that I recommend, and one could find them on my Spotify List “2012 Worth Your Time.” Do please leave other suggestions in the comments. Until next year, vivat ars musica!

Domain Expiring

Most people probably already know that this blog is done through WordPress. For most of the blog’s history we’ve forked up the $18 a year to keep a “professional” site domain without the customary “” added to “theophiliacs.” But I’m afraid our care about such things has reached its end. In a day or two our site will revert to; or at least I think that’s what will happen. I don’t know if you’ll have to change your RSS feed or whatever, but be aware.


Toward a “Loeb” Patristics Library

Tony SigAt least for me, the Loeb Classical Library is most helpful not for the facing English translation, the introduction, or the notes; helpful as these are. It is the widely available and mostly affordable access to an original language text. The rest is the cream. And despite their reputation among “real” classicists as texts for hacks and grad students, they are inestimably helpful to, for instance, biblical and theological students, or to priests and hobbyists, or indeed to hacks and grad students.

But alas, there is nothing like this for the study of historical theology, excepting those few early fathers found in the Loeb (Whose use is rather negated by the fact that one must purchase half a shelve’s worth of books just to get The City of God or Philo’s works). There are, however, similar works in both German and French; namely the Fontes Christiani and the Sources Chrétiennes. What’s more — and here I mean the Sources Chrétiennes because I don’t know about the FC — these very often are not just a text but a critical text with apparatus and sometimes commentary. This allows for them to be useful for academic citation.

Now English does have a series that produces texts like this, the Oxford Early Christian Texts, but not only are these texts obscenely expensive, the series makes no aims whatsoever at being a patrology.

I would at least like to assert, though, that it would make a great foundation with which to produce a Patrologia Maior. Forget doing an exhaustive patrology, hell, even a hand-held bi-lingual edition of Minge would work even if it is much less than desirable.

I can’t be the only person who thinks this, right? How handy would a “Loeb” Patristics Library be? Indeed something like the whole combination of Loeb Classical Library, Cambridge Commentaries, and Oxford Classical Texts would be pretty sweet. And how could such a thing not but increase interest in studying patristics in the original languages?