This was written and submitted for publication in Luther Seminary's student newspaper, The Concord.
At the time of submission, Halloween is upon us. Hay rides and pumpkin carvings delight children and families. Target tempts our bellies with an impressive variety of candies. The abandoned space once occupied by Circuit City now inhabits numerous goblins, princesses, and spooky props. A variety of fans don the costumes of their particular favorite characters from video games and literary or cinematic works. For those unimpressed by the sparkling day-walking vampires of the Twilight series, costumes of deteriorated corpses and bloody flesh allow children and adults to personify zombies from their favorite movies or video games. The fictional and mythological presence of vampires and zombies is rather prevalent. We find them in the Twilight series, the Resident Evil series, Dracula, Night of the Living Dead, True Blood, etc. Max Brooks wrote a book instructing readers on how to survive in the event of a zombie apocalypse. AMC will soon be televising a show about a zombie infested world entitled, The Walking Dead. If we are to imagine a post-apocalyptic world inhabited by vampires, zombies, or other varieties of the undead, it is hard to believe that their presence could possibly be more unavoidable than it is already.
Beneath the jovial merriment of Halloween’s festivities, beneath the shiny crinkle of delectable treats, this season betrays our cultures preoccupation with death. Vampires and zombies, whether we find them attractive for their shock value or out of mere guilty pleasure, embody our societal and cultural preoccupation with death, eternal life, and the human soul. For the most part, both are classified as undead and are popular particularly because of how they draw us into an imaginative universe of existence that is beyond death. These fictional undead do more than speak of our cultural preoccupation with whether life exists beyond death, they also speak of the nature of that ‘semi-resurrected life.’
In the realm of vampire lore, we can see a preoccupation with consumption. Whether a vampire is of the more ‘noble’ sort and only feeds on wild animals or it ravages local villages biting into the jugular of any passing unfortunate soul, it is impossible to speak of vampires without talk of feeding. More often than not, fictional portrays of these immortal blood-suckers are done in the context of a grand castle or lavish lifestyle. Consumption is not just portrayed in the drinking of platelets but also in the expensive surroundings of Dracula and his ilk. Moreover when vampire fiction attends to relationship (or lack thereof), there is an unspoken message of consuming and owning the life of another. Perhaps what vampire-lore says about our human condition is that, whether in property or relationship, we wish that the finality of death could not prevent our quest to acquire things or people. Perhaps the allure of death in vampire fiction has to do what the things or the people we wish we could hold onto and the tension that arises when that desire is faced with the unavoidable finality of human existence.
Zombie-lore, with its mobs of undead prowling the streets looking to feed on brraainns, would seem to be about consumption as well. For goodness sake, there’s even a Cake Boss episode wherein the bakery constructs a monstrous (no pun intended) zombie cake for a party.
Although we’ve witnessed many a horror movie or pub-crawl with zombies seeking to consume human flesh or alcohol, more often than not the depiction of the zombie ‘life’ is at the end of a shotgun. The whole point of numerous zombie movies or video games is to eradicate the
zombie infestation before the hero is eaten alive. Video games and cinematic representations love to highlight the variety of ways in which this ‘acceptable killing’ can be done; by shotgun, chainsaw, sporting equipment, or even hedge trimmer. Zombie-lore, with its fascination on killing the all-consuming mob, may actually be a critique against capitalistic consumerism. It may perhaps, be a reflection of the human desire to exert will over another, or to fight
the unceasing onslaught of death with everything we have.
So what is the Christian response to this cultural preoccupation with death? We must realize that scripture is not without its similarity to the popularity of undead fiction. Lazarus walks out from the tomb, stinking to high heaven. The resurrected Christ allows for so-called doubting Thomas to place his hands directly into His flesh. But in contrast to popular culture’s portrayal of life after death, the Christian message must be particularly distinct. The resurrected Christ is more than just some sparkling transfigured deity. The resurrected Christ is not solely about the business of consumption. The resurrected Christ is no longer concerned with holding death off at the end of a pitchfork. The theology of the cross informs us to look for the glory of Christ, not in the sparkling glow on the mountain side, but in the suffering, weakness of death itself. The resurrected Christ, having conquered death, is about the business of consumption but only consuming the sin, suffering, and filth of our fallen humanity. The resurrected Christ is in the business of declaring the unworthy righteous and offering His benefits unto humanity. The resurrected Christ needs no shotgun, pitchfork, or garlic to fight off death. He has already conquered the entirety of
death, taking nails and spear into himself.
The resurrected life, although we do not yet see it in our flesh, is one we confess and hope for in faith. This resurrected life, which we have through Christ alone, is not one of consumption or destruction. It does not seek its own ends through the exertion of will over another. Rather it waits in patient hope, willingly receiving daily bread and all that is needed for this life from the gracious hand of God. Death holds sway over our physical and temporal life. Although we may suffer and grieve under its finite realm, we need not retreat into the fictional illusion of ‘undead comfort.’ Instead through water and Word, bread and wine, we are to taste in see that the Lord who has conquered death in order to make us His own, is indeed good.
Sentimentality & Returning
A friend of mine recently posted a video on facebook. By itself, this isn't a big event. It happens all the time as facebook has somehow become the friend-circle bulletin board of the age. For me however, this video was rather meaningful. How it was/is meaningful is something rather difficult to describe. When we talking about something being meaningful or having meaning, it seems that no two definitions are alike. There are entire PhD dissertations on semiotics and I don't recommend you read any unless you need to catch up on your sleep.
Some people talk about something being meaningful to them, as if it were simply a brief interaction between themselves as a subject and the 'something' as an object. They look at the graffiti on the side of a building as they drive by and think to themselves, 'yeah that's meaningful to me, because i share that worldview.' In these instances, meaning is something that describes a brief connection and interaction between one's self and a recognized similarity of worldview, interest, etc. that may be inside or outside of one's 'situation in life.'
There are others however, who speak of meaning in an enveloping way. Meaning, for them, is something that takes hold of their being and envelopes their entirety within itself. In these instances, meaning is a subjective force that takes hold of their objective reality, governing and shaping them into something different (for better or worse).
For me, I think meaning is a combination of the two. Meaning is something of a mutually subjective interaction for me. In it I find an opportunity to identify aspects of my own life, history, and personhood, and to analyze and speak to those aspects in a deconstructive and constructive manner. But at the same time, meaning is something with which I often myself alarmingly out of control. A song lyric, a painting, a theological insight, a chord progression, etc. Any of these things has the distinct possibility of setting me on my rear-end. Meaning uses these and numerous other vehicles to grasp me, envelope my being, and transform me into something new, different, and hopefully better than I was before.
So where is all this going? Well, I suppose it's fitting that I link you up with two videos that seem to prompt the entire discussion. Here's hoping I can quickly figure out the embed-ing. After the embedded videos go through, I'll say more.
Video #1 - Voices of Gotham - Keep the Whole World Singing
Video #2 - Vocal Majority & Ambassadors of Harmony - I'll Walk With God
The first video was posted by a friend of mine from my undergrad years. We've both spent a decent amount of time in vocal ensembles, some of that time together, and have a similar view of music's meaning and significance. Part of that musical meaning and significance will be explored here, but probably not to the extent which it deserves. The first video is basically the theme song for the Barbershop Harmony Society, which (and I'm dating myself here) used to be SPEBSQSA. SPEBSQSA, for all you people who are acronymically (is that a word?) challenged, stands for the Society for the Preservation and Encouragement of BarberShop Quartet Singing in America. Yes, that's a mouthful.
The second video is a response posting by myself back to this friend of mine. It is of two combined barbershop choral ensembles singing in a rehearsal room at the 2010 Barbershop Harmony Society International Convention in Philadelphia. I first heard the song in question on a CD I have wherein one of these aforementioned choral ensembles, The Vocal Majority, sings the song with The Mormon Tabernacle Choir. I've also heard the song performed live by the University of Illinois Varsity Men's Glee Club.
Now where sentimentality, as a carrier of meaning, comes into all of this, is in regard to the memories that both of these songs stir up in my past. I've had a pretty extensive life exposure with barbershop singing. My personal stories on the matter will be left for either a comment inquiry or another time. In any case, I remember the songs and the experience of singing alongside others. My experiences of singing have been extensive as well, whether in church choir, college choir, the shower, etc. In this case, in the examination of the sentimentality of barbershop singing, there seems to be an interesting tension for me. Barbershop singing represents a tension between the things I love about singing and the things I loathe about singing. Some of these things are actually on both lists. Since i'm such a pessimist, we'll start with the loathe-list.
First) I loathe groups that find themselves hindered in their quest for betterment by their willingness to coddle or accept anyone in their ranks. This loathing obviously doesn't represent the Christian or Lutheran side of my sociological beliefs. I understand there's a certain degree of hypocrisy there. In any case, I find myself loathing this sort of 'openness' because too much time is spent helping people with the learning curve and not on the improvement of the cohesive unit that, for the most part, seems to have a larger level of commitment to the group than the learning-curve-newbies tend to have. You have to stop in the middle of working on united vowel formation to help the guy who can't figure out which dot on the page he's supposed to sing. It gets tiring and unless you're a driven vocational educator ... takes all the fun out of the experience.
Second) There's a rather high degree of choreography involved in barbershop singing. None of which is really exemplified in these videos. In any case, I am not a 'mover' or a 'dancer.' I barely have rhythm. I also tend to notice that when ensembles, like those shown in the TV show Glee (since nearly everyone has some idea of what that means), do their little dance numbers alongside their singing, the singing suffers. I participate in and join choral ensembles for the singing, not for the occasional choreographed niceties.
Also, and this goes more along the lines of 'movement hinders sound' point from above, when Barbershop singers sing, they move their heads around a lot. There's lots of 'oh yah bob your head with the beat and show enthusiasm in your facial movement and raised eyebrows and ...yawn' going on. When this is a choreographed enthusiasm, I don't like it one bit. When it's natural, and the accidental result of neighbor Jim getting really into the moment/camaraderie, I find it grating. I'm the kinda guy who attends choral performances to listen to the music. I don't go there to watch dozens of people bobblehead their way through a number.
And now for the love list, which you'll notice, has the same items as the loathe list, but from a different perspective.
First) I like that barbershop choruses allow anyone and everyone to attend their rehearsals. Yes, there is a certain degree of auditioning and attendance/fees if you want to become a member of a chorus/chapter. And I realize that shoots my first 'loathe' item in the foot. But the thing I love here is that anyone can attend the rehearsal whether you want to join or just revisit what it felt like to sing in a group. The songs, for the most part, are not that hard. There are enough 'classics' so that you can not feel too lost in the haze. The openness of Barbershop Rehearsals is a soothing thing. I find it odd that their openness seems to evoke a much more sentimental reaction in me than the openness of say, a church. I think this relative difference is due to the fact that when someone stumbles into a church to 'try it on,' 'relive the past,' or 'hear the old old story,' there is a rather large roll of the dice as to whether any of that intention will actually be satisfied. Barbershop rehearsals, seem to have a rather large 'success rate' in making you feel good in the sense of shared participation/camaraderie.
Second) I love the enthusiasm of barbershoppers. Singing is something that gives them happiness. It's evident on their faces and they sing. Their erratic body language in their rehearsals evidences this enthusiasm. It's adorable. At the same time it's .... a little nauseating. It can be annoying from the perspective of the audience member, but at the same time there is something adorable about seeing the unity of passion and enthusiasm. One could be very cynical about the whole thing, saying that this unity is only for the purposes of bravado and machismo. My idealism tends to get the best of me on this one though.
The sentimentality and the meaning of this for me, has to be more than nostalgia. It is indeed that. There is something I have remembered and cherished about singing in such an ensemble of unified passion. I have tried to get back to a similar sense of community, most recently in college. The combination of my own personal desire for academic and personal development led me to try and cultivate the nature of the ensemble and my membership therein. This, in retrospect, may have been a problematic sense of projection. Maybe an over emphasis on my own subjectivity in the matter of meaning making.
Perhaps it's merely a matter of me becoming enveloped in a similar nostalgic environment and letting the experience overtake me so that meaning is a more organic process. Regardless of what I choose, there is definitely something entrancing about the whole consideration. So ... there's that.
Some people talk about something being meaningful to them, as if it were simply a brief interaction between themselves as a subject and the 'something' as an object. They look at the graffiti on the side of a building as they drive by and think to themselves, 'yeah that's meaningful to me, because i share that worldview.' In these instances, meaning is something that describes a brief connection and interaction between one's self and a recognized similarity of worldview, interest, etc. that may be inside or outside of one's 'situation in life.'
There are others however, who speak of meaning in an enveloping way. Meaning, for them, is something that takes hold of their being and envelopes their entirety within itself. In these instances, meaning is a subjective force that takes hold of their objective reality, governing and shaping them into something different (for better or worse).
For me, I think meaning is a combination of the two. Meaning is something of a mutually subjective interaction for me. In it I find an opportunity to identify aspects of my own life, history, and personhood, and to analyze and speak to those aspects in a deconstructive and constructive manner. But at the same time, meaning is something with which I often myself alarmingly out of control. A song lyric, a painting, a theological insight, a chord progression, etc. Any of these things has the distinct possibility of setting me on my rear-end. Meaning uses these and numerous other vehicles to grasp me, envelope my being, and transform me into something new, different, and hopefully better than I was before.
So where is all this going? Well, I suppose it's fitting that I link you up with two videos that seem to prompt the entire discussion. Here's hoping I can quickly figure out the embed-ing. After the embedded videos go through, I'll say more.
Video #1 - Voices of Gotham - Keep the Whole World Singing
Video #2 - Vocal Majority & Ambassadors of Harmony - I'll Walk With God
The first video was posted by a friend of mine from my undergrad years. We've both spent a decent amount of time in vocal ensembles, some of that time together, and have a similar view of music's meaning and significance. Part of that musical meaning and significance will be explored here, but probably not to the extent which it deserves. The first video is basically the theme song for the Barbershop Harmony Society, which (and I'm dating myself here) used to be SPEBSQSA. SPEBSQSA, for all you people who are acronymically (is that a word?) challenged, stands for the Society for the Preservation and Encouragement of BarberShop Quartet Singing in America. Yes, that's a mouthful.
The second video is a response posting by myself back to this friend of mine. It is of two combined barbershop choral ensembles singing in a rehearsal room at the 2010 Barbershop Harmony Society International Convention in Philadelphia. I first heard the song in question on a CD I have wherein one of these aforementioned choral ensembles, The Vocal Majority, sings the song with The Mormon Tabernacle Choir. I've also heard the song performed live by the University of Illinois Varsity Men's Glee Club.
Now where sentimentality, as a carrier of meaning, comes into all of this, is in regard to the memories that both of these songs stir up in my past. I've had a pretty extensive life exposure with barbershop singing. My personal stories on the matter will be left for either a comment inquiry or another time. In any case, I remember the songs and the experience of singing alongside others. My experiences of singing have been extensive as well, whether in church choir, college choir, the shower, etc. In this case, in the examination of the sentimentality of barbershop singing, there seems to be an interesting tension for me. Barbershop singing represents a tension between the things I love about singing and the things I loathe about singing. Some of these things are actually on both lists. Since i'm such a pessimist, we'll start with the loathe-list.
First) I loathe groups that find themselves hindered in their quest for betterment by their willingness to coddle or accept anyone in their ranks. This loathing obviously doesn't represent the Christian or Lutheran side of my sociological beliefs. I understand there's a certain degree of hypocrisy there. In any case, I find myself loathing this sort of 'openness' because too much time is spent helping people with the learning curve and not on the improvement of the cohesive unit that, for the most part, seems to have a larger level of commitment to the group than the learning-curve-newbies tend to have. You have to stop in the middle of working on united vowel formation to help the guy who can't figure out which dot on the page he's supposed to sing. It gets tiring and unless you're a driven vocational educator ... takes all the fun out of the experience.
Second) There's a rather high degree of choreography involved in barbershop singing. None of which is really exemplified in these videos. In any case, I am not a 'mover' or a 'dancer.' I barely have rhythm. I also tend to notice that when ensembles, like those shown in the TV show Glee (since nearly everyone has some idea of what that means), do their little dance numbers alongside their singing, the singing suffers. I participate in and join choral ensembles for the singing, not for the occasional choreographed niceties.
Also, and this goes more along the lines of 'movement hinders sound' point from above, when Barbershop singers sing, they move their heads around a lot. There's lots of 'oh yah bob your head with the beat and show enthusiasm in your facial movement and raised eyebrows and ...yawn' going on. When this is a choreographed enthusiasm, I don't like it one bit. When it's natural, and the accidental result of neighbor Jim getting really into the moment/camaraderie, I find it grating. I'm the kinda guy who attends choral performances to listen to the music. I don't go there to watch dozens of people bobblehead their way through a number.
And now for the love list, which you'll notice, has the same items as the loathe list, but from a different perspective.
First) I like that barbershop choruses allow anyone and everyone to attend their rehearsals. Yes, there is a certain degree of auditioning and attendance/fees if you want to become a member of a chorus/chapter. And I realize that shoots my first 'loathe' item in the foot. But the thing I love here is that anyone can attend the rehearsal whether you want to join or just revisit what it felt like to sing in a group. The songs, for the most part, are not that hard. There are enough 'classics' so that you can not feel too lost in the haze. The openness of Barbershop Rehearsals is a soothing thing. I find it odd that their openness seems to evoke a much more sentimental reaction in me than the openness of say, a church. I think this relative difference is due to the fact that when someone stumbles into a church to 'try it on,' 'relive the past,' or 'hear the old old story,' there is a rather large roll of the dice as to whether any of that intention will actually be satisfied. Barbershop rehearsals, seem to have a rather large 'success rate' in making you feel good in the sense of shared participation/camaraderie.
Second) I love the enthusiasm of barbershoppers. Singing is something that gives them happiness. It's evident on their faces and they sing. Their erratic body language in their rehearsals evidences this enthusiasm. It's adorable. At the same time it's .... a little nauseating. It can be annoying from the perspective of the audience member, but at the same time there is something adorable about seeing the unity of passion and enthusiasm. One could be very cynical about the whole thing, saying that this unity is only for the purposes of bravado and machismo. My idealism tends to get the best of me on this one though.
The sentimentality and the meaning of this for me, has to be more than nostalgia. It is indeed that. There is something I have remembered and cherished about singing in such an ensemble of unified passion. I have tried to get back to a similar sense of community, most recently in college. The combination of my own personal desire for academic and personal development led me to try and cultivate the nature of the ensemble and my membership therein. This, in retrospect, may have been a problematic sense of projection. Maybe an over emphasis on my own subjectivity in the matter of meaning making.
Perhaps it's merely a matter of me becoming enveloped in a similar nostalgic environment and letting the experience overtake me so that meaning is a more organic process. Regardless of what I choose, there is definitely something entrancing about the whole consideration. So ... there's that.
Individual Worth & Communal Affiliation
Today some news became available. Dana College will be closing its doors. (source links: 1, 2) This may seem insignificant to many of you. It also may be of great significance to others. (obvious sentences are obvious) To me, it is significant but only in a minor way. As some of you may know, Dana College (link) is my alma mater. I have fond memories of the place and horrible memories as well. My fond memories have more to do with individual people than with it as a communal or even educational institution. But as I have been reading the facebook posts and tweets of my friends, associates, and fellow alumni, I have been thinking about the role school plays in the formation of the individual.
Yes yes, we can all safely say that schools and other institutional bodies influence the formation of the individual. Such a statement is sociology 101. We're aware of how they inform and form us to be better (or unfortunately in some circumstances, lesser) than when we entered their midst. My concern here does not have to do with this genetic sense of institutions passing traits onto the individual as 'offspring'. Rather, I seek to explore what it means to be an alumni or ex-patriot of a community.
I have noticed variance in the ways my fellow alumni and associates regard Dana College. For some people, it is a cherished near-hallowed ground about which they will verbally fight tooth and nail for a perceived (or actual) integrity which they feel obligated to defend philosophically (or financially). For others, it is a milemarker that they have passed, signifying a time and place in their personal, social, or romantic development that only needs recollection insofar as it informs the overall development of their identity. Loyalty is variant amongst us all.
And yet I cannot help but wonder (how's that for a Sarah Jessica Parker phrase), what does it mean to call oneself an alum? I suspect that to call myself an alumni of Dana College is to philosophically, historically, and even religiously locate myself within a stream of communal development. When I make this affiliation (verbally or even just by virtue of the act of graduation), I am connecting myself not only to those in the past, those who have founded the college, attended its classes, instructed its students, and graduated from its halls, but also to those who will encounter this place in the future, those who will reform its leadership, attend its courses, instruct its students, and graduate in the years to come. When you read up on teachers, authors, senators, lawyers, and prospective leaders of government or industry, you are bound to hear of their C.V. (Curriculum Vitae), which includes the list of institutions at which they have attended or taught. We place a value on where someone has been instructed or where they have instructed others. The historical, geographical, and philosophical location of ourselves and those we cherish is important and informs the way we regard them and ourselves (for having encountered them).
So what do alumni do when their alma mater ceases to exist? How does that influence the formation/continuation of personhood? I'm not saying that my understanding of self will deteriorate now that Dana College is closing. There are others however, who might feel that way. I suspect it is not unlike familial death. There are members of our family with whom we are integrally knit together (mother, father, spouse, etc.) And if these members were to die, we would find our understanding of self, as a relational creature, to be irrevocably affected by that change/cessation of relationship. There are however, other members of our family with whom we may not be so integrally knit (step-parents, second cousins, etc.). If these members were to die, we might find ourselves affected and join our sympathies with those who mourn bitterly. Nevertheless, for ourselves these relationships of a lesser qualitative degree would not hold the same emotional sway over our own heart and mind.
It would be lovely to end this post here. To say that, well Dana College was the sort of relationship that one might have with a step-parent and really doesn't hold any sway over my present emotional, philosophical, or relational development. Such is true. However, we must revisit the matter of associated validity. If I, by virtue of saying I am an alum, am locating myself within or among the past/future development of a institution and its constituents, what does that reciprocating value (the worth, or lackthereof, placed upon one's self with such an affiliation) do when the development ceases? Is my value (or lack thereof, depending upon your perspective) as an alum of Dana College decreased (or increased?) by its closing? I wonder how often these contemplations occur in the mind of the educated (or uneducated, assuming you can transplant this hypothesis to a non-academic sector). Yale hasn't closed. The University of Illinois hasn't (although one could debate it's future).
... It perplexes me. Not in an emotional sort of way. Just curiousity. In the end, I think one can still locate one's self within the historical, philosophical, relational developments of an institution or community even once such an institution or community has ceased to exist. However, I think that in some cases (maybe not my own personal instance), such a cessation compels a growth of one's subjectivity and independence in order to facilitate their development and self-identification apart (though not necessarily entirely so) from the community/institution in question. We all identify ourselves with our historical development (family, friends, schooling, employment, living accommodations, etc.) but there is more to self-identification than these affiliations. There is a utterly subjective sense of self that must be identified and explored. This subjective self may have surprisingly substantive or lacking connections with our historical affiliations, but it must be examined on its own and not with continuing re-visitation of its communal/institutional predecessors.
Postscript: If one backs away from this 'conclusion?' and seeks to move in a more theological direction with its suppositions, there are shocking and alarming conclusions to be made concerning the place and affiliation of the faithful individual apart from the worshipping/confessional community. I do not wish to make these theological/ecclesiological conclusions, as I do not agree with their ramifications in the slightest, but would at least like to acknowledge their alarming nature.
from one onto the other.
Yes yes, we can all safely say that schools and other institutional bodies influence the formation of the individual. Such a statement is sociology 101. We're aware of how they inform and form us to be better (or unfortunately in some circumstances, lesser) than when we entered their midst. My concern here does not have to do with this genetic sense of institutions passing traits onto the individual as 'offspring'. Rather, I seek to explore what it means to be an alumni or ex-patriot of a community.
I have noticed variance in the ways my fellow alumni and associates regard Dana College. For some people, it is a cherished near-hallowed ground about which they will verbally fight tooth and nail for a perceived (or actual) integrity which they feel obligated to defend philosophically (or financially). For others, it is a milemarker that they have passed, signifying a time and place in their personal, social, or romantic development that only needs recollection insofar as it informs the overall development of their identity. Loyalty is variant amongst us all.
And yet I cannot help but wonder (how's that for a Sarah Jessica Parker phrase), what does it mean to call oneself an alum? I suspect that to call myself an alumni of Dana College is to philosophically, historically, and even religiously locate myself within a stream of communal development. When I make this affiliation (verbally or even just by virtue of the act of graduation), I am connecting myself not only to those in the past, those who have founded the college, attended its classes, instructed its students, and graduated from its halls, but also to those who will encounter this place in the future, those who will reform its leadership, attend its courses, instruct its students, and graduate in the years to come. When you read up on teachers, authors, senators, lawyers, and prospective leaders of government or industry, you are bound to hear of their C.V. (Curriculum Vitae), which includes the list of institutions at which they have attended or taught. We place a value on where someone has been instructed or where they have instructed others. The historical, geographical, and philosophical location of ourselves and those we cherish is important and informs the way we regard them and ourselves (for having encountered them).
So what do alumni do when their alma mater ceases to exist? How does that influence the formation/continuation of personhood? I'm not saying that my understanding of self will deteriorate now that Dana College is closing. There are others however, who might feel that way. I suspect it is not unlike familial death. There are members of our family with whom we are integrally knit together (mother, father, spouse, etc.) And if these members were to die, we would find our understanding of self, as a relational creature, to be irrevocably affected by that change/cessation of relationship. There are however, other members of our family with whom we may not be so integrally knit (step-parents, second cousins, etc.). If these members were to die, we might find ourselves affected and join our sympathies with those who mourn bitterly. Nevertheless, for ourselves these relationships of a lesser qualitative degree would not hold the same emotional sway over our own heart and mind.
It would be lovely to end this post here. To say that, well Dana College was the sort of relationship that one might have with a step-parent and really doesn't hold any sway over my present emotional, philosophical, or relational development. Such is true. However, we must revisit the matter of associated validity. If I, by virtue of saying I am an alum, am locating myself within or among the past/future development of a institution and its constituents, what does that reciprocating value (the worth, or lackthereof, placed upon one's self with such an affiliation) do when the development ceases? Is my value (or lack thereof, depending upon your perspective) as an alum of Dana College decreased (or increased?) by its closing? I wonder how often these contemplations occur in the mind of the educated (or uneducated, assuming you can transplant this hypothesis to a non-academic sector). Yale hasn't closed. The University of Illinois hasn't (although one could debate it's future).
... It perplexes me. Not in an emotional sort of way. Just curiousity. In the end, I think one can still locate one's self within the historical, philosophical, relational developments of an institution or community even once such an institution or community has ceased to exist. However, I think that in some cases (maybe not my own personal instance), such a cessation compels a growth of one's subjectivity and independence in order to facilitate their development and self-identification apart (though not necessarily entirely so) from the community/institution in question. We all identify ourselves with our historical development (family, friends, schooling, employment, living accommodations, etc.) but there is more to self-identification than these affiliations. There is a utterly subjective sense of self that must be identified and explored. This subjective self may have surprisingly substantive or lacking connections with our historical affiliations, but it must be examined on its own and not with continuing re-visitation of its communal/institutional predecessors.
Postscript: If one backs away from this 'conclusion?' and seeks to move in a more theological direction with its suppositions, there are shocking and alarming conclusions to be made concerning the place and affiliation of the faithful individual apart from the worshipping/confessional community. I do not wish to make these theological/ecclesiological conclusions, as I do not agree with their ramifications in the slightest, but would at least like to acknowledge their alarming nature.
from one onto the other.
It All Seemed To Be An Academic Exercise
So begins a new blog for me. I've done this before, writing in a blog and propelling the thoughts (whatever their quality) into the void of the internet. Perhaps you've done this before as well, reading the commentary and inquisitions of one whose thoughts may belong within his own head instead of on the screen.
Usually the introductory post of a blog entails some sort of biographical segment, a retelling of who it is that well be propelling their thoughts and the events of their life onto the screen of the reader. This introductory post will however, not have any of that sort. Rather this post will offer a short summary of the intended content of this blog.
It is the intent of myself, the author, not to blather on with these sort of overly formulated sentences that no-one really cares to read, but instead to write as I think. So, I offer you far warning that the Jacksonian Contemplations you will encounter in the future may be confusing at best and schizophrenic at worst. I realize that I have another blog and that its contents are largely filtered (certain people have access to read certain types of posts). This blog intends to be different from that blog insofar as, aside from the 'hiddenness' of its url, it will remain public. Comments and questions, dialogue and even insult is welcome. Because of its public nature, I recognize that I will have to maintain a more censored vocabulary. I will endeavor to do so, knowing that when I find myself enthralled in the contemplation of various topics, I usually lose track of my tongue (or fingers, as the case may be).
So, the sort of contemplation within this blog remains open to the fickleness of history and the unexpected interaction of peoples, communities, events, etc. with myself and/or those I love. It'll be a mysterious organic surprise in that way. I hope it works alright and I hope you stick around.
Usually the introductory post of a blog entails some sort of biographical segment, a retelling of who it is that well be propelling their thoughts and the events of their life onto the screen of the reader. This introductory post will however, not have any of that sort. Rather this post will offer a short summary of the intended content of this blog.
It is the intent of myself, the author, not to blather on with these sort of overly formulated sentences that no-one really cares to read, but instead to write as I think. So, I offer you far warning that the Jacksonian Contemplations you will encounter in the future may be confusing at best and schizophrenic at worst. I realize that I have another blog and that its contents are largely filtered (certain people have access to read certain types of posts). This blog intends to be different from that blog insofar as, aside from the 'hiddenness' of its url, it will remain public. Comments and questions, dialogue and even insult is welcome. Because of its public nature, I recognize that I will have to maintain a more censored vocabulary. I will endeavor to do so, knowing that when I find myself enthralled in the contemplation of various topics, I usually lose track of my tongue (or fingers, as the case may be).
So, the sort of contemplation within this blog remains open to the fickleness of history and the unexpected interaction of peoples, communities, events, etc. with myself and/or those I love. It'll be a mysterious organic surprise in that way. I hope it works alright and I hope you stick around.
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