Kyle Sorkness

Kyle Sorkness

Dr. Paul Hillmer

Honors

September 3, 2010

Directed Writing 1

In this paper, I will summarize two authors' philosophies on the study of history, including the authors' views on the conflicts and challenges faced when trying to use evidence to reconstruct the past and their suggestions regarding the most appropriate way to address these challenges to produce something useful and true. I will close with some of my personal comments.

At the risk of oversimplifying the authors' arguments, I see a fundamental difference in the way these two men approach the issue. Thomas Spencer Jerome, in an excerpt from his Aspects of the Study of Roman History, says that the historian should focus on correctly sorting out falsities from the truth, while Robin G. Collingwood, in his "Who Killed John Doe?" excerpt, says the historian should focus on asking the right types of questions.

Since I feel that Jerome's argument is simpler, I will address his first. Jerome is concerned with the ability to be confident in historical data. In this writing of his, he presents the reader with tales of research experiments related to the reliability of people's memories. The results of these studies show that individuals unintentionally falsify their own memories or records of the past, even in very short amounts of time. Jerome says that "defects of observation, imagination, and memory" are to blame (183). His thoughts on this phenomenon are probably best summarized when he says, "In conclusion, the matter comes down to this, that the human mind is not primarily an organ by which man determines the real objective truth of things and gives utterance to it, but is rather a tool by which one accomplishes one's desires" (190). In addition, he stresses the importance of correctly understanding and interpreting the language of historical records. The definitions of words and phrases change over time, so a responsible historian must be aware of the language's meaning within the context of its writing.

Collingwood's perception of the major challenge faced by historians as they study evidence in an effort to learn and write about the past are a little more complex, I believe. While Collingwood would no doubt agree with Jerome that the truth is important, Collingwood is much more concerned with how truth is found. Throughout "Who Killed John Doe?" Collingwood uses two labels for the two ways in which a historian could act. The "scissors-and-paste" historian collects all evidence that he thinks might be true, then "cuts" what he thinks is true from what he thinks is false and "pastes" the information he favors together into a "collage" of sorts made up only of "pieces" other historians have already used (52). A "scientific historian," on the other hand, works more like a detective (hence the title of the article and the murder mystery scene Collingwood uses to illustrate his point), intentionally asking the correct questions and like a scientist, by creating those questions through predictions and making sure the questions asked have the potential of being answered (53). In Collingwood's murder scenario, he makes the point that one will not get very far by only asking, "Who killed John Doe?" Instead, one must take in all of the evidence, then ask questions based on the state of those pieces of evidence. For example, the investigating character in Collingwood's story asks himself questions about footprints through mud outside the victim's home. For a scientific historian, there are no "ready-made" statements because rather than simply asking whether such a statement is true or false, one must ask what the statement means, knowing only that it was indeed said. Among other things, this leads to an understanding of studying specific problems in the past, not periods.

The end goal is the same for both authors: a true representation of history. However, the approaches proposed for arriving at that goal are different. In fact, they may even seem contradictory. I say this because Jerome's approach appears similar to the "scissors-and-paste" method condemned by Collingwood. That being said, one could also argue, I think that the two stresses of these authors can be compatible. This might work if one were to view Jerome's advice as one component in Collingwood's more encompassing philosophy. In other words, a responsible historian will ask himself the correct questions based on everything he sees, while being extra cautious of any personal testimonies (yes, one might argue that Collingwood already includes this element without any help from Jerome).

In all honesty, my ideas about the process of recording history were much closer to Jerome's simpler view than Collingwood's. I thought the goal was almost entirely to find true statements and collect those into chronological volumes. Collingwood's article, along with our discussions in class, have broadened (and deepened) must understanding of the field of history. At this point in time, I still like when Jerome says that "the basis of all right knowledge about anything is accuracy and completeness of observation" (187), but I also see the point that Collingwood is trying to make, that being that we should have informed, answerable questions ready as we approach an infinite amount of evidence. Embracing concepts from both authors, I would think, and using them in harmony would help take a person a few steps closer to accurately honoring the past with useful and true historical records.

Dear readers, this is my last required blog post for the semester. I might write some kind of overall reflection post later; we'll see. Anyway, thanks for reading along.

All year we've been blogging about readings from a book titled Callings: Twenty Centuries of Christian Wisdom on Vocation. For this final post, I read selected writings from Dorothy Day. According to Placher, Day dropped out of college to pursue protesting and writing radical newspapers and such things. She joined the Catholic Church and, along with Peter Maurin, founded the Catholic Worker Movement. One of these selected writings is from the first issue of The Catholic Worker newspaper that she helped start, a couple are from books of her writings, and the last is a postscript. These selections center on Day's thoughts on love and poverty. Again, these writings are grouped into a time period called "Christian Callings in a Post-Christian World (1800-Present)." The first question for this time is, "How do I simply live as a Christian?" According to Day, it's all about poverty, community, charity, and love. The second question of the time was/is, "Is my life's work a 'calling' or a 'job'?" I think that Day would view work as a calling. She says, "Father Tompkins of Nova Scotia says that everyone should be able to place his job in the category of the works of mercy" (p. 418). Regarding work, she also says, "If we examine our conscience in this way, we would soon be driven into manual labor, into humble work, and so would become more like our Lord and our Blessed Mother" (p. 418).

Toward the beginning of this collection of writings, I really liked what Dorothy Day had to say about love. "When you love people, you see all the good in them, all the Christ in them. God sees Christ, His Son, in us and loves us. And so we should see Christ in others, and nothing else, and love them" (p. 416). However, as the writings went on, she seemed to get a little more focused on the purpose of poverty in showing love and I was unsure about some of her statements regarding poverty. "Love of brother means voluntary poverty, stripping one's self, putting off the old man, denying one's self, etc" (p. 417). More on this in the next paragraph. She also talks about the folly of love. Retelling a father's comments on the Bible, Day says, "But there is not a page but emphasizes God's folly in ever forgiving and drawing man back to him" (p. 417). After talking about the story of Hosea, she writes, "And God even commanded [alluring Hosea's wife back] so that down through the ages there would be this example of God's love for a faithless people, of the folly of love, a foretaste of the folly of the Cross. ... If we could only learn to be such fools! God give us the strength to persist in trying to learn such folly ... " (p. 417).

If you've been reading this blog from the beginning, you'd know that I first blogged about The Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne (see Part 1 and Part 2). Reading Dorothy Day brought back many memories from Mr. Claiborne. Both of them "favored poverty," specifically voluntary poverty, in ways I don't quite understand. I definitely need to do more reading on the subject. As of right now, I don't understand the economic principles in play. I don't understand how making everyone poor will help...the poor. Claiborne and Day have also cited Biblical support for their thoughts on the poor. Both made something out of Jesus' statement that He had nowhere to lay his head. Both seemed to talk about people donating to the poor, but then said that people should voluntary become poor, so I guess I'm not sure who's supposed to do the donating. Whatever the case, both authors have given me new insights into poverty and have inspired me to learn more.

I'm still not quite sure what to make of this week's Callings reading.

The reading I chose this week from Callings is titled "What Shall I Do with My Life" and was written by Howard Thurman. According to Placher, Thurman served as a pastor for many years and "his commitment to non-violence deeply influenced Martin Luther King, Jr., and other leaders of the civil rights movement" (p. 385).  This reading is a sermon of Thurman's from 1939.  That date places it within the final period of time we study this semester in Callings: Christian Callings in a Post-Christian World (1800-Present). The two questions we focus on during this time period are, "How do I simply live as a Christian?" and "Is my life's work a 'calling' or a 'job'?" As you'll read below, Thurman talks about some important concepts to keep in mind while understanding how to live as a Christian. And, simply because he talks about Jesus so much and our imitation of his life, I would assume that Thurman would call one's life's work a calling rather than a job.

In Thurman's sermon (rhyme intended), he talks about the temptation of Jesus by Satan in the wilderness. In the third temptation, Thurman says that "the tempter strikes at the center of Jesus' dominant passion, to bring society under the acknowledged judgment of God and thereby insure its purification" (p. 387). Satan says that the kingdoms of the world are currently under his control and he uses those kingdoms to tempt Jesus. I find it to be somewhat odd, but Thurman plays out conversation-like dialogues or thoughts that could have occurred between Jesus and Satan. In doing so, Thurman has Jesus conclude that God creates the relationships between people. To this, Thurman has Satan correct Jesus and say that he (Satan) created the relationships between people. Based on this experience, according to Thurman, Jesus tells his disciples to be glad when they are persecuted for God's sake. Thurman says that two half-truths can be drawn from all of this. One of the half-truths is that if all people became good, society (the relationships between people) would also become good. The other half-truth is that if society was made good, the people in the society would become good. Thurman says that these two ideas must go together.

This argument by Thurman paints some small picture of his view on the role of Christianity in the public square. Combining those two half-truths, he says, "We must, therefore, even as we purify our hearts and live our individual lives under the divine scrutiny, so order the framework of our relationships that good men can function in it to the glory of God" (p. 388). So, from this exclusively, I would draw that Thurman sees Christianity playing a large role in the public square. Good men need good public positions in which to work. However, just creating those public positions for the good men is not enough to produce the good men. These two things must work hand-in-hand. So to answer the question of which comes first, the good society or the good individual, Thurman may give that almost annoying Lutheran-like answer, "Yes." It is useful for me to keep this viewpoint in mind as I study sociology through our reading of Habits of the Heart and the related discussion board posts and papers. A very thought-provoking semester of Honors this semester is becoming.

First of all, let me say that this has been one of my favorite readings from Callings. As a freshman, I haven't yet declared a major here at Concordia. Generally, when people ask what I'm going to school for, I tell them that I think I'm headed toward something in church work, but that I'm not sure beyond that. These people then usually ask if I'm considering the pastoral ministry (because it seems to be the only church position these people attach any value to) and I tell them that I am. Basically, I'm weary of "signing on" to a position with such responsibility, a position that I still don't fully understand. So, I've spent a good deal of time this year trying to understand exactly what the pastoral ministry is supposed to be about and what it means to be called to something like it.

This reading is an excerpt from a work by Richard Baxter titled "Directions about Our Labors and Callings." The brief biographical information provided in Callings says that Baxter "tried to find grounds for cooperation and mutual respect" during "conflicts among Episcopalians, Presbyterians, and Independents" (Placher, 2005, p. 278-279). Placher also says that "this excerpt shows [Baxter's] characteristic moderation and common sense" (p. 279). Baxter lived in the fifteenth century, a time period that our Honors class is studying under the title "Vocations after the Reformation." One of the questions attached to this time period asks, "To what particular work is God calling me?" Baxter's entire writing is in reply to this question, so you'll see this explained below. The other question for the period asks, "How can I serve God through family life?" In this portion of his writing anyway, I don't see an answer from Baxter. He does write, at least, about parents helping their children find their callings, which is part of the answer to that question.

This excerpt gives 12 "directions" from Baxter to help make the "right choice for our calling and ordinary labor" (p. 279). Here are my summaries/paraphrases.

Direction 1: Labor is necessary for all who are able. Church workers don't have a free pass from labor. Rich people don't have that free pass, either. Labor is necessary because 1) God has commanded it, 2) we are given gifts, talents, and abilities for the purpose of using them in labor, 3) "God is most served and honored by" action (p. 280), 4) it works toward the good of all, 5) it is needed to keep our minds and bodies healthy, 6) it helps in keeping us from temptation and sin, 7) it is the means God has given us to provide for ourselves.

Direction 2: "A calling is a stated, ordinary course of labor" (p. 281), so basically a synonym for words like "occupation." Callings are necessary because 1) a person is more idle when not working in a specific calling, 2) a person should do what he/she is good at. A person can have a multi-dimensional calling or multiple callings, but "great variety will be a great inconvenience to him" (p. 282).

Direction 3: You should not have an unlawful/sinful calling.

Direction 4: Some things are okay to do occasionally (like act and play cards), but you shouldn't make a calling out of them (you shouldn't be an actor or a professional poker player).

Direction 5: Your calling shouldn't be dangerous to your soul.

Direction 6: "The principal thing to be intended in the choice of a trade or calling for yourselves or children, is the service of God, and the public good" (p. 283). Try to find a calling in which you can do the most good possible.

Direction 7: If two callings are equal in their contribution to the public good, choose the calling more advantageous to your soul over the one with better pay. In other words, as he says, be a pastor, not a lawyer.

Direction 8: Choose a calling that allows you to exercise your body and mind. To me, this seems like a very modern statement for Baxter to make.

Direction 9: It's okay to become rich as long as you're becoming rich to better serve God, not to satisfy yourself.

Direction 10: Do what you're fit for. He makes the point that there are such things as natural talents that can't really be learned very well.

Direction 11: In considering a particular calling, talk to wise people in that calling. This is why I appreciate the number of CSP theology professors who have served as parish pastors.

Direction 12: If you've gone through the first 11 steps and find yourself at a cruddy job, don't complain, but "make it the matter of thy pleasure and joy that thou art still in thy heavenly Master's service" (p. 285).

I may not agree with all of those points, but I like a lot of them. However, I usually try to be weary anytime I find myself feeling comfortable, and Baxter's reasoning here makes me very comfortable about the idea of entering the pastoral ministry. To summarize in one sentence, I'd say Baxter says, "Choose a calling based on where can do the most good, based on your abilities, and based on what will be the best for your soul."

All through this reading, Baxter places a large amount of emphasis on the public good. If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know about my project at Trinity First Lutheran School. There is a very nice tie-in here because Trinity First also emphasizes the public good in its methods of educating productive, Christian members of society. Trinity First does not exist only for the benefit of Lutheran Church--Missouri Synod members or even exclusively for Lutherans. In fact, it doesn't even exist only for the benefit of Christians in general. Trinity First hopes that the students that graduate from their school take with them a strong academic foundation, a grounding in the Christian faith, and a disposition to love and service.

Speaking on the writing again, some of his word choices make the Lutheran inside of me cringe a little, but overall, I really enjoyed this work from Baxter. More than a couple lines literally made me chuckle. I had a half-semester long class that ended a few weeks ago that aimed to help us explore church work callings. That class required that we read a book on the topic, Cure for the Common Life by Max Lucado. Not to be mean to Mr. Lucado, but I think we could've saved a bunch of time and had some more in-depth conversations had we just read this eight-page excerpt.

But the question remains for me. What does it mean to be called, specifically to a church work vocation such as pastor? Baxter gave me a very logical, reasonable, and practical answer that makes me feel relieved and comforted. However, for all the logic, reason, and practicality, I didn't see a whole lot of God in Baxter's answer. As I look back over the 12 directions, I notice that all of them require action solely on the part of the confused college student seeking his calling. Where's the Direction 13 that says that God will appear to me in a dream and tell me my major, minor, and future calling? I think Baxter must've forgotten to put that one on paper.

This past Tuesday night, I, along with the other Honors students and many other students, faculty members, and friends of Concordia University, attended the much-anticipated Poehler Lecture, an annual event in which a distinguished professor speaks on the integration of faith and learning at Concordia. This year's speaker was Dr. (Dr.) Loma Meyer.

Dr. Meyer served at Concordia in many roles, including professor, dean, Vice President for Academic Affairs, and Executive Vice President. She even held some of these positions simultaneously, which as she remarked, required her to "consult herself." Her list of accomplishments continues with local and national academic administration and governance roles. And yes, the "classroom building" at Concordia, Meyer Hall, is named after her.

Dr. Meyer's address was titled "Change: Integrating faith and learning." She divided the presentation into three sections: autobiographical, historical, and futuristic. A main area of focus of the autobiographical portion was related to the recent death of her husband, a man who also gave many years of dedicated Christian service to the church and to Concordia. Her faith in the saving work of Jesus and the peace that that faith brings her was more than evident in the way she discussed this recent personal history. Because Concordia has been such a large part of her life and she in its, it's easy to see how her autobiography lead so well into Concordia's history. Dr. Meyer spoke about some of the major changes at Concordia, university president by university president, since she was first involved. Her reflections and insights carry with them her four decades of connection with Concordia, as she witnessed the school become what it is today. Her comments/observations/predictions during the futuristic portion of the address dealt largely with the role of technology in education, especially online schooling. One point that struck me was her comment that in our present age, our question isn't so much about how to make communication work technically, but how to effectively use all the tools of communication that we already have. Throughout all she said regarding her life and the past, present, and future of Concordia, she noted the importance of and the questions related to integration of faith and learning.

Much of what Dr. Meyer talked about related very closely to the Honors program. If you weren't already aware of this, the full title of the program is University Honors Program in litteris fideque. That Latin is translated as "in learning and faith." As the Honors webpage reads, the program "anchors learning in a constant conversation with the Christian gospel, which is at the heart of the institution." So Honors is a great living example of this very thing Dr. Meyer discussed. She said that such integration "involves heart, soul, and mind."

While I learned a great deal from Dr. Meyer's words, I also found some of the questions and comments that followed her address to be thought-provoking. One comment in particular, from Dr. Bunkowske, related to this issue and caused me to reconsider some of my thoughts. Dr. Bunkowske first said that he feels that Dr. Meyer's faith has been evident in all her work. He then asked whether faith and learning should be seen as separate things to be integrated. At that moment, I realized how much I have separated faith and learning in my mind. As some of the Honors students could probably tell you based on our Monday night sessions, I like to define the terms I'm working with, so the New Oxford American Dictionary defines faith as "strong belief in God or in the doctrines of a religion, based on spiritual apprehension rather than proof." It defines learning as "acquisition of knowledge or skills through experience, practice, or study, or by being taught." So can these two go together? Of course. Can you have one without the other? I'm still not sure.

The closest I think I can come to answering this question is as follows (feel free to agree or disagree in the comments area below). There might be such a thing as "secular" learning, but I think that it is unavoidable to have faith involved in application of that learned knowledge. Even if you're a Christian working in a "secular field," let's say something in business, the way you conduct yourself and use your "secular" business knowledge should reflect your faith. So yes, while faith and learning might be able to be separated to a degree, they can also be pretty hard to pull apart. I believe Dr. Meyer said something about how faith and the world of learning should be "held in creative tension." She also said that it is our faith that allows us to connect disciplines.

At the very beginning of the year, Dr. M. Schuler took the delta class to the St. Paul Cathedral. Before even entering the church, Dr. Schuler used the art and architecture of the entrance (seen below) to teach us something about the purpose of the Honors program.

As you can see, there are two large pillars with angels sitting on them. One angel holds a cross, while the other holds the flame of knowledge. At the top of the entrance is an image of the Great Commission. So there we have it, folks, faith and learning, side by side, distinct yet composing the same structure, both under Jesus and the call to make disciples of all nations.

I took a good deal of notes during Dr. Meyer's address and I gathered new insights as well as questions relating to Concordia and the relationship between faith and learning, so I could write much more, but every blog post must end sometime (and every college student needs to sleep at some point), so I'll end with this last thought from Dr. Meyer. Amidst all of the changes that have occurred at Concordia, whether it's the student demographics or the methods of education, our "oneness in Christ is the one thing which must not change."

Last week, I had the opportunity to attend a convocation by Dr. Mitri Raheb, a Palestinian Lutheran pastor. This opening paragraph could never do justice to Rev. Dr. Raheb's biographical information. Besides serving as pastor of Evangelical Lutheran Christmas Church in Bethlehem, he has authored many articles and numerous books, taught as a college professor, served as a journal editor, speaks internationally, and is the founder and president of the Diyar Consortium, a combination of organizations so intertwined, that this author can't make sense of it all (just look at this section of Raheb's Wikipedia entry). His work focuses on the past, present, and future state of Christianity in Palestine. For even more information on Rev. Raheb than the previous links will provide, visit his website.

Some of the main points Raheb made in the convocation (which he also makes in the first couple chapters of his book I am a Palestinian Christian) aim to reshape/repair our image of Christianity's heritage and Western Christianity's relationship to Christianity in Palestine. One of the first remarks Raheb made during the convocation was something to the tune of, "You know what they say, Christianity was started in Texas." As Westerners, Raheb says, we tend to forget that Christianity started in his homeland. Raheb said something about how he lived across the street from where Jesus was born. On a second level, Protestant Christians might tend to see the Reformation as the first major schism in the Christian church, while Raheb makes the point that major divisions were happening long before that in the Middle East.

On a slightly different note, Raheb also talked about what life is like as a Christian in Palestine. This, of course, fits in very nicely with our current Honors discussions on civil religion and "Christianity in the public square." Some of my fellow Honors students who did a better job of remembering exact percentages than I did (thanks, Anna, Carrie, Philip, Erin) recalled Raheb saying that although Christians make up only about 2% of the population, they run/fund 1/3 of the health care system and 45.5% of the Non-Governmental Organizations. Besides the activeness of this minority group of Christians, Raheb addresses the intercultural and interfaith relationships that they have, especially with Muslims and with the West. He stresses the fact that Christians in Palestine serve as a "bridge" between Western Christianity and the "religious components" of the Middle East.

I will admit that I was not as educated as I would like to be on the religious/political history of the Holy Land as I read portions of Raheb's book and attended the convocation. I feel like I have a much better understanding after just this small amount of reading and listening, and Raheb has certainly caused me to be more interested and more driven to learn more on this topic. One of the bigger new concepts that all of this has helped me to begin to understand is how a group's social position affects its ideaologies and therefore its practices. One example of this can be seen in these lines from I am a Palestinian Christian: "To [Arab Christians], the cross was the reality of a suffering church rather than the inheritance of a triumphant church. Western churches, on the other hand, related the sign of the cross to power, vested interests, and expansion" (Raheb, 1995, p. 10). Just before that, Raheb writes about the contrast between Western Christianity's "conservative" stance and Arabian Christianity's "progressive" one. Secondly, although it isn't necessarily a new concept for me, Raheb has helped me realize the importance of the Arab origin of Christianity. Too often, I find myself and others cutting "church history" short, going back to Luther and the Reformation, but maybe not spending as much time on the earlier history. It's almost like we want to skip from Acts to Luther.

All in all, I am very grateful to have had the chance to hear from and eat and meet with Pastor Raheb. He has nicely supplemented our current studies in Honors, he has sparked an interest in me to learn more about early church history and the current state of the Holy Land, he has helped me as I continue to challenge my own biases and understand the historical viewpoint I  was raised under and am now being educated from, and if nothing else, his personal drive and dedication and his incredible, growing list of accomplishments in service to the Church and the world have brought to mind the old cliche that one person really can make a difference.

This week's reading is a compilation of excerpts called Chronicle of the Crusade of St. Louis, which was written by John de Joinville, one of King Louis IX's nobles. Joinville writes about Louis's devout Christian life and portrays him as a model Christian leader. As I stated in my last blog post, the main question for this time period asks how a Christian should live his/her life. Joinville records that Louis lived an almost monastic life. From his regular worship and prayer schedule, to his self denial with food and clothing, and his overall peaceful demeanor, the king's lifestyle was somewhat similar to that of a monk or nun.

I will humbly admit that I had never made the connection between King Louis IX and St. Louis. As I read the text aloud, David Edwards and I were amazed to hear of this "good king;" so often, it seemed that our history classes focused on the bad/greedy/insane kings instead.

Once, a Franciscan friar gave a sermon, for the sake of teaching the king, in which he said that "he had never found in the history of either heathen or Christian peoples, that a kingdom had been lost or had changed its ruler, except where justice had been ignored" (Placher, p. 140). Louis worked to maintain such justice, but he did so with mercy. Joinville writes about Louis feeding the hungry, settling disputes between warring people, giving to the poor, and so on. All of this he did, according to this text, humbly. (Dare I say he was a servant leader?)

It's tough for me to compare Louis's leadership style with that of our heads of government today. Currently, during our Monday night Honors classes, we are discussing the issue of civil religion. As part of that discussion last week, we talked about established religions (especially those in some of the original US state constitutions). Because Louis is spoken of as being a Christian king, and because we seem to emphasize the separation of church and state in modern day America, it's almost like comparing apples to oranges. Yes, I would like to tell Governor Pawlenty or President Obama that they should follow Louis's example and live more devout Christian lives, but that wouldn't necessarily "work" the same way today as it could in the past. Having said that, I still would encourage our leaders to do that and, even if the Holy Spirit hasn't worked faith in their hearts in Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior, I would hope that they could at least embrace the servant attitude of King Louis IX. I would want to remind them that government is not all about systems; it's about people.

The reading I selected this week is a portion of The Flowing Light of the Godhead by Mechthild of Magdeburg. According to Placher, Mechthild joined a Beguine community, where she lived a "more or less" monastic life. She wrote The Flowing Light of the Godhead when her confessor told her to write down the visions she had experienced. She lived from about 1210-1280 (p. 150).

The writings from Callings during this time period seek to answer a new question: "What kind of Christian should I be?" As Mechthild writes about monastic life, one could infer that a life of monasticism is her answer to that question.

While reading these portions of her book, I was looking for a quote that I could apply to my service project. She writes, "Thus shall you speak to each of your brothers in the deep humility of your pure heart: 'Alas, my dear fellow, I, though unworthy of anything good, am your servant in all the ways I can be and not your master. Unfortunately, however, I have authority over you and send you forth with the heartfelt love of God. The difficulty of your task moves me deeply, and yet I make the decisions. I rejoice in the sublime honor the heavenly Father has prepared for you'" (p. 152).

At long last, I have begun working at Trinity First Lutheran School on a regular basis. I help with their Tiger Club after-school program on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, and I am helping with the kindergarten class before Tiger Club on Thursdays. This past week, I've begun to understand the leadership role that I play. In the kindergarten class, the teacher told the students that they had to respect me as they respect her and that I get to "boss them around," as she said. The room grew quiet for a moment as the kids seemed to reflect on this new relationship I would have with them. They were being told to respect me as an adult. (Of course, only moments later, they were hugging and clinging to me like I was one of them. Herein lies the complexity of this relationship.)

These lines from Mechthild remind me that I must be a servant-like leader. I can relate when she writes, "The difficulty of your task moves me deeply." The difficulties that these students face academically, socially, economically, etc. really do move me. I hope that I can play a small part in "send[ing] [them] forth with the heartfelt love of God."

This post is the first of ten that will focus on selections from a collection of writings called Callings: Twenty Centuries of Christian Wisdom on Vocation (edited by William C. Placher).

The selected reading for this post is a portion of "The Life of Antony" by Athanasius. I am not very familiar with either of these men, so the background information I'll supply here is from Placher. Placher says that, while in exile, Athanasius met Antony, who was then an old man. Athanasius's account of Antony's devote Christian life has had a large impact and caused many people to imitate Antony's way of life. This reading addresses one of our questions for this section of Callings that asks if being a Christian can/should be easy. At a time and place when many Christians' lives appeared to be too easy, Antony's life of self discipline and endurance of attacks from Satan was far from it.

Early on in this reading, Athanasius writes about Antony's role models. First, his parents raised him in a Christian home. Then, he heard about the early Christians who had given their belongings to the poor, encouraging him to do the same. Later, we read that "if he heard of a good man anywhere, like the prudent bee he went forth and sought him, nor turned back to his own place until he had seen him; and he returned, having got from the good man as it were supplies for his journey in the way of virtue" (p. 60). As mentioned in the previous paragraph, Antony himself then became a role model for those who would read his story.

Although I feel like my life is so far removed from Antony's, I think that I can also draw out some parallels in regard to role models. Just as the first influences on Antony were his parents, I also know that my parents played/play an immeasurable role in modeling my life. Antony found role models in the early Christians and in Scripture. While my response is less "literally mirrored" than Antony's, again, it's undeniable that the early Christians have influenced my life, personally and in the way I interact with(in) the Church. Finally, when reading this, I immediately drew connections between Antony's seeking of "good men" for wisdom to my learning from professors here at Concordia. I realize that life's path is not as linear or segmented as this, and that we learn from and act as role models at the same time, but in the same way that Antony grew from one end of the spectrum to the other, I hope that I can also use the wisdom that I receive from the role models in my life and that I can pass it on to those around or after me.