Elliot Ritzema

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  • Mice

    We’ve had mice in our apartment for the past couple of weeks. It’s a rather cruel situation for the mice, since our apartment is so small that they don’t have many places to hide. But mice are pretty unobtrusive, I find. The last time I lived in a house with a rodent infestation was in 2005, when I lived over at the Vancouver School of Theology in a three-storey house. There, we had rats, which are much more aggressive. My roommate Kendal saw one on the roof once, threw something at it, and it hissed at her. They mostly stayed in the basement, and we had to ask their permission to go down there and do our laundry. Anyway, our landlord found out about the mice, and gave us mousetraps to set around. Our landlord is a gentle soul, and instead of giving us traps that would execute mice swiftly, he gave us glue traps that would catch our guests until we could take them out to a field somewhere and release them to be fruitful and multiply.

    We caught a mouse last Friday. When we were deciding what to do with it, we realized just how ridiculous the live traps were for our situation. The instructions for the traps talk about taking them at least a mile away for release, so the mice will not re-enter. The problem is, a mile away from our apartment in any direction is still metro Vancouver. The second problem is, only one of us has a car, and so if most of us were to dispose of the mouse, we would have to take it on the bus. We were tempted to do this because of the high probability of comedy ensuing, but decided not to. And taking the mouse on the bus wouldn’t solve the problem of not being able to get outside the city. It would be a kind of NIMBY-ism to release a mouse anywhere near where we live, because there are houses everywhere. Even if it doesn’t get back into OUR house, it’ll get into SOMEBODY’S house, which is no good.

    So what did we do? We disposed of it the best way we knew how: by taking it outside and stomping on it. Requiescat in pace, mouse. And I really do mean that.

  • Unused Churches To Become Museums

    I haven’t been posting much lately, and I probably won’t post today or tomorrow. I would like to post on the first chapter of The Way Of the (modern) World, but I’m not likely to get around to that until tomorrow or Thursday. I’ve still got to finish that book review that I didn’t write yesterday. Also, tomorrow evening I have to be at a lecture that philosopher Nicholas Wolterstorff is giving at Regent, on Love and Justice. I have to record it for Regent Audio (and I may blog about it if I can stop worrying about the sound system long enough to pay attention).

    In the meantime, here is something that I wrote for the April Fool’s 2007 edition of the Et Cetera, Regent’s weekly newspaper. It’s a satire on what is going on currently in the Episcopal Church, and I thought I’d let you read it before it becomes too dated. Enjoy!

    Unused Churches to Become Museums

    The Episcopal Church in the USA (ECUSA) has recently decided that it will begin turning some of its older churches into museums.

    This decision comes in light of conservative Episcopal churches splitting away from the ECUSA because of theological differences. Churches such as Truro Church and The Falls Church, both of Northern Virginia, have buildings and land whose worth is estimated at $25 million.

    “That land belongs to the Episcopal Diocese of Virginia,” spokesperson James Hibblethorp said, “and we’re not going to let it go without a fight.”

    But if they do manage to keep the land and the buildings, why does the ECUSA want to turn these churches into museums, rather than have them function as places of worship?

    As the Presiding Bishop of the ECUSA said in an interview last fall, membership is not what it used to be: “It used to be larger percentagewise, but Episcopalians tend to be better-educated and tend to reproduce at lower rates than some other denominations. Roman Catholics and Mormons both have theological reasons for producing lots of children.”

    Since being well-educated and not wanting to go forth or multiply is part of what it means to be an Episcopalian these days, turning historic churches into museums seems like the next logical step.

    “If we’re able to win the fight and get these buildings and lands away from those who have broken away, we’ve got a nice collection of paintings that would fit quite nicely on the sides of the sanctuaries,” Hibblethorp said.

    “If we kept them as places of worship, we would probably run into trouble on a couple of counts,” he continued. “First, not many people would be likely to attend. And those are some big sanctuaries that currently hold lots of people who would probably not be interested in attending anymore if the ECUSA won this battle.

    “Second, if we continued to use them as places of worship, we would have to add minarets to the buildings and Japanese gardens with shrines on the grounds to be inclusive of people from other faith traditions. We’d likely run into a lot of construction costs if that happened.”

    Much better, then, to take advantage of the strong architectural tradition of the Episcopal church by charging people money to enter churches and browse around.

    But that’s not all: Hibblethorp also has plans to use the spaces for more than just marvels for visitors to ogle at.

    “Churches are also great concert venues,” says Hibblethorp. “Even if there is no worship going on, people will still be able to enjoy some nice music that will hopefully get them in touch with the divine in a very general and non-exclusive way.

    “Of course, many of the standard hymns and other works that have been played and sung throughout the centuries would be inappropriate to have in such a setting. But have you ever heard ‘We Are Family’ or ‘Over the Rainbow’ on a pipe organ?” Hibblethorp chuckles. “I’m a bit of a musician myself, and I’ve been working on an arrangement of Norman Greenbaum’s ‘Spirit in the Sky’ that will give you goosebumps.”

    Plans for using the ECUSA’s museum churches as dance clubs on weekend nights are also in the works. “You’ve never boogied until you’ve boogied in a church,” Hibblethorp notes.

  • A “B” (probably) for Well-Being

    I realized at about 4:30 this morning that life had become unbearably ironic.

    The reason why I was up that early/late is that I was working on a book review for a class of Thomas Morris’ Our Idea of God: An Introduction to Philosophical Theology. The reason why I came to think that life had become ironic is because I was depriving myself of sleep and general health and well-being in order to write a review of a book about God. Also, I had just spent three days spending a lot of my time reading that same book in order to get it done before the due date, and I had slipped severely in my daily Bible reading. So, I was depriving myself of relationship with God in order to read a book about God.

    I then remembered something that Prof. John Stackhouse said once: every year, he is convinced, there are many people who get A’s in classes at Regent against the will of God. That is, they neglect their other obligations to God, family, friends and church in order to put that extra effort in to get a good grade. Since Dr. Stackhouse is the professor for whom I was writing this book review, the choice was obvious. I went to bed. And I’ll turn it in tomorrow for a slightly reduced grade.

    In other news, I changed the look of the site. I’m not sure whether I like it or not; I mostly changed away from the old look because none of the widgets on the side worked anymore. We shall see if that was just a glitch on that particular theme, or if WordPress as a whole is having issues with widgets.

  • The Way of the (Modern) World: Introduction

    Golly!  Apologies!  It’s been a busy last few days in the life of Elliot.  What with grading hermeneutics papers, and reading for class, and drinking lots of egg nog (’tis the season. . .), the days have been plumb full.

    But speaking of reading for class, I’ve just started to read a book by Craig Gay called The Way of the (Modern) World: Or, Why It’s Tempting to Live As If God Doesn’t Exist.  Snappy, eh?  Here is a quote from the Introduction: “We are concerned to discover how and why it is that the practically atheistic outlook has become so uniquely plausible even for Christians in the modern context.  Along this line, our focus will not be on traditions of explicit philosophical secularity as such, but rather on the secularity that is carried out implicitly – one is tempted to say innocently – in institutional arrangements that we probably take largely for granted” (14).

    Basically, Gay is arguing that all people in modern society – Christians, atheists, followers of any religion or none – live in an environment of practical atheism.  Even for those who believe that God exists, he is irrelevant to the business of real life.  The purpose of the book is to examine the roots of that phenomenon.

    Gay is writing from an explicitly Christian standpoint, and he is well aware that Christians are called to be “in but not of the world” (John 17:13ff).  I’ve been a Christian for several years, and just about all the times I’ve heard other Christians use this phrase, they have been referring to resisting temptation of some kind.  Gay, to his credit, defines “worldliness” in a different way: “What if the essence of ‘the world’ – and hence of ‘worldliness’ – is not personal immorality and/or social injustice as such, but is instead an interpretation of reality that essentially excludes the reality of God from the business of life?” (4)  Especially given the New Testament usage of the word “kosmos,” Gay’s proposal makes a lot of sense.

    So why is this practical atheism such a bad thing?  Well, among other things, it leaves us vulnerable to the “terror of history” – the necessity of “having to create our own meanings and purposes in the world,” and having to “make sense of who we are only on the basis of our own accomplishments” (11).  We can never really understand who we are, or why we are here.  There is another problem as well – one that is less existential but more frightening on a societal level: “[W]hen we lose sight of God, we also lose sight of ourselves.  It is the thought of God, after all, that gives substance to words like ‘truth,’ ‘freedom,’ ‘justice,’ and ‘persons’: words which lend substance and meaning to human life.  Without the thought of God such notions are empty or, at best, only convenient fictions.  A completely secular society is, therefore, not simply ‘godless,’ but impersonal and inhumane as well” (2-3).

    I am personally glad that there is such an interest in human rights at this moment in world history, as evidenced by such organizations as Amnesty International.  But I’ve always wondered what sort of basis thoroughly secular people have for an idea like “human rights.”  It’s easy to insist on a right; anybody can do that.  But one person’s rights imply that another person has a duty to them.  I don’t hear a lot of talk about that side of the coin.  One of the tactics of organizations like Amnesty International is to shame people and governments committing human rights abuses into shaping up.  This only works as long as the rest of the world is outraged by what is going on.  I wonder what will happen if that is no longer the case?

    I’ll be reading the rest of this book over the next few weeks, and I’ll post the rest of my reflections on it periodically.

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  • Gang of Monkeys Kills Politician

    Seriously.

    This is what happens, eventually, when people let the monkey population in their city get out of control because they regard monkeys as sacred. I’m not saying this is some sort of divine judgment; I won’t speak for God. I’m just saying that if your religious beliefs keep you from controlling an animal that has become a menace to humans, there is no doubt in my mind that those beliefs have to be changed.

    And yes, this means I’m going on record as saying that humans are more important than monkeys.

  • “Nation” Schmation

    After watching the Red Sox defeat the Colorado Rockies Sunday night to become World Series champs, I came to this realization: I can’t stand it when people refer to a team’s fan base as “_________ Nation.” I must have heard the phrase “Red Sox Nation” a dozen times during the celebration after the game.

    I know that the phrase “Red Sox Nation” has been around for a long time (according to an article about it on the always-reliable Wikipedia, it was coined by a Boston Globe reporter in 1986). I also believe that “Raider Nation” – fans of the Oakland-Los Angeles-Oakland Raiders – has been around for a long time, maybe longer. But lately, things have just gotten ridiculous. Every team has their own nation now.

    Why do I hate it when people refer to a team’s fans as “_____ Nation”? Well, here are a few reasons:

    1. First, I hate it simply because it is so widespread. If only one or two teams did it, perhaps it would be tolerable. But a few quick Google searches today have turned up the following:

    A. “Hokie Nation” – a documentary about fans of Virginia Tech.
    B. “Volunteer Nation” – a phrase found in a book title about Tennessee football
    C. “Packers Nation” – a blog about the Green Bay Packers
    D. “Tiger Nation” a phrase that could refer to the fans of, among others: LSU,
    Clemson, Massillon High School or Fort Hays State University.

    2. In my experience, teams whose fans like to use this phrase the most often have the most obnoxious fans. The Boston Red Sox, to take the most obvious example, are the biggest road attraction in baseball. That is, more fans go to see the Red Sox play outside of Boston than any other team, even the Yankees. This is probably in large part because it is so hard to get tickets for their home games. I saw the Red Sox play the Mariners in Seattle this summer, and a few Boston fans (who had flown out from New England) were seated right behind me. It’s OK, if you grew up in Boston but have since moved to a new city, to go to the park when the Red Sox are in town to cheer them on. But flying across the country from Boston for the series, and in some cases outnumbering the hometown fans is, in my opinion, obnoxious. The only exception to this rule of calling yourself “nation” and being obnoxious is the Yankees, whose fans (though still obnoxious) don’t refer to themselves as “Yankee Nation,” but instead as “Yankee Universe.” I think this helps make my point.

    3. Finally, Why the need to be part of a nation? Isn’t the United States good enough? And why define yourself against others in such an absolute-sounding way? Isn’t the United Stated divided enough on more political issues? On the one hand, this complaint might seem kind of silly. But on the other hand, I think that there has to be something more fundamental lurking behind this tendency, since it is both so recent and so widespread. Are people just looking for a place to belong? Something to be part of that is larger than themselves? If this is so, is “Burnt Orange Nation” really the best they can do when it comes to shaping their identity?

    I was watching a little college football this past weekend and was particularly struck, when watching the Georgia-Florida game, by how similar college football is to a religion – the rituals, the reverence for coaches and players who have reached godlike status, the codes of conduct, etc. Now, with every fan base calling itself “Nation,” it is starting to appear like not just a religion, but a civil religion.

  • Dumbledore

    . . . is gay, huh?  I must admit that 1) it’s not all that shocking, and 2) this doesn’t change anything about the books themselves (especially since this doesn’t feature in the plot).  I recommend John Granger’s post that explains why it’s not all that shocking, and why the Harry Potter books are no more an invitation to homosexuality than they are an invitation to the occult, here at hogwartsprofessor.com (be ye warned; it’s long).

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  • Blast from Budapest

    I was fortunate enough to be able to hang out with some old friends from my Educational Services International (ESI) days this past weekend in Seattle. I took the train down from Vancouver on Friday night and stayed with Abi, who is now a 3rd grade teacher in Bellevue. The next morning, we had blueberry pancakes and talked about old and new times, and in the afternoon met up with Vangie (who now attends Mars Hill Graduate School in downtown Seattle), Tracy (who was visiting from Minnesota), Annika (who works as a clerk for the Washington Supreme Court) and her husband Jerry (who is also a lawyer in Olympia).

    We spent the afternoon hanging around downtown, visiting Pike Place, the Olde Curiosity Shop and Pioneer Square – what tourists like to do in Seattle. Then we got coffee at Tully’s and reminisced. It had been a while since I had talked about living and teaching in Budapest. It seems so long ago, even though it was what I was doing right before coming to Regent. But it is kind of like a different world.

    Tracy and Abi, the teachers among us, compared teaching in the States to teaching in Hungary, and there really is no comparison. In the states, you don’t have:

    – Parent-teacher conferences where the students translate for you (“Your son needs to turn in his homework.” “I am an excellent student!”);

    – Random half-days and holidays without warning (I was teaching during first period one day, and the bell rang at 8:25 instead of 8:50. Who knew?);

    – Liquor stores right outside the front door of the school (as they did at Trefort);

    – Times where you can’t find the key to the classroom because the previous teacher didn’t turn it in at the front desk, and then you are required to have class out in the hall with the assistant principal walking by and giving you dirty looks (as happened to me once);

    – Teacher meetings which are all in Hungarian, where your Hungarian colleagues are supposed to translate for you but instead periodically say, “What we’re talking about is not that important.” (On the positive side, those meetings were a great time to get caught up on grading);

    – Teacher trips where you all got onto a bus, drank, sang songs and headed to Slovakia (not that I’m complaining; it was really quite fun and a good way for teachers to bond with one another. This is actually one thing that schools could learn from in the United States);

    – Parties in the large teacher’s office upstairs that sometimes you (in the small teachers’ office downstairs, with all the English teachers) were told about, and sometimes you weren’t;

    – Times where you are feeling a bit sick, and so the principal has you drink palinka (traditional brandy) in his office at school so you will feel better (this happened to Abi);

    – An interview with the local newspaper merely because you are a foreigner living in the town (as happened to Amy and Laura, two teachers in Dunaujvaros);

    – Meetings with your Hungarian colleagues to determine the grades for your students in which, even though a particular student rarely shows up for class and fails everything when he/she does, he/she gets a passing mark because he/she is “very nice and tries sometimes.” (It is actually quite hard to fail a student in Hungary, and involves a lot of paperwork, so it is something to be avoided at all costs, apparently.”

    Well, I’ve got to get this post wrapped up. I’ll just say that it’s good to reminisce with old friends. Here are a couple of pictures from Hungary:

    tracy-team-hungary-1.jpg

    This is Abi, me, Laura, Amy and Annika at Buda Castle in August 2003.

    img_5083.jpg

    This is a group of American and Hungarian English teachers outside my old school. Front Row: Kriszta, Tracy, Andi, Annika. Back row: me, Balazs, Neal

    tracy-trefort-agoston-12.jpg

    Building one of Trefort Agoston bilingual secondary school, where I taught for a year.

  • “Enjoy your Halo!”

    Today I was sitting in a certain fast-food restaurant that may or may not have its roots in the Scottish immigrant community of the United States, and I heard a parting phrase that I had never heard before. One employee of this establishment was leaving at the end of his shift, and another employee, who was still working behind the counter, did not say to him, “Goodbye,” or “Later,” or even “Take it easy, bro” or “Peace out Homey,” but instead said:

    “Enjoy your Halo!”

    Now, I am “hip” and “with it” enough (even in my late 20s, having been born during the Carter administration) to understand what he meant, even though I’ve only ever played the original Halo. And haven’t found it to be terribly addictive since whenever I’ve played, I’ve usually played with people who are much more experienced at it than I am, and who blow my brains out an average of 20 seconds after beginning. Given this state of affairs, I could spend more time playing Halo and improve my skills. . . but I guess we all make choices in life.

    I just thought that it was funny that Halo is such a big part of our culture that people can say something as ridiculous-sounding as “Enjoy your Halo,” and people who don’t know them at all can still know what they are talking about.

    Enjoy all of your Halos, everybody!

  • The Relevance of Reinhold

    Paul Elie has written an interesting article on the influence of Reinhold Niebuhr in the November issue of Atlantic Monthly. I thought that it was a good introduction to Niebuhr’s thought for those who had no idea who he was. I must admit, though, that I was surprised to learn that interest in Niebuhr was experiencing a renaissance (when John Stackhouse, from whom I took a class two years ago called “Theology of Culture,” informed me in this lecture that interest in Neibuhr had waned in recent years).

    Also, the article has been criticized at GetReligion for its simplistic criticisms of Christians involved in politics, and for misrepresenting a source with whom Elie appears to disagree. These criticisms are, I think, fair.

    I do happen to agree with the conclusion expressed in the last few paragraphs of the article and the application of Niebuhr’s thought to the war in Iraq — although I believe that this very conclusion is proof that Neibuhr was a person with a long public career over which he modified his thought many times, and it is easy for people with widely divergent opinions and agendas to enlist Niebuhr’s support for those opinions. I wish that the article had been guided a bit less by the author’s biases and contained a bit more on the breadth of opinions that tend to appropriate Niebuhr – and what that tells us about what Niebuhr actually thought.