Sentimental Insomniacs

by Alysa Obert

The challenge facing students at the end of the year is twofold.

Our judgment is hindered by massive quantities of burnt coffee, cheap vending machine nutrition, and the dark circles engrained in our eyes.

The end always arrives sooner than expected, even for

the classes we loathed. And we find the most eccentric

professors deeply rooted in our hearts.

Praxis Makes Perfect

By Alysa Obert

I recently interviewed Marv Wilson, Doctor of Biblical Studies here at Gordon College. At the end of the interview I somewhat rashly asked the question, “Why do you believe in Jesus?” Instantly I felt five years old and Dr. Wilson, amused by my red cheeks, took a minute to respond. “Because it works,” he said.  I looked up. That was it? That was all that the thought-provoking Theologian had to say? He had taken an hour to answer my first question; I thought this next would deserve a dissertation.

But it didn’t, and that intrigued me. I thought about this a long time after, mulling over its significance.  I realized I was struck by the fact that Dr. Wilson is an extremely pensive man yet his reason for believing, in this God that he can’t see by the way, is a matter of practicality.

 Here at Gordon College we love the theoretical. We ponder the questions of God and man with dogged sincerity. We even have a year-long program devoted to answering the question “what does Jerusalem have to do with Athens?" or for non-greek speakers, "what in the world does it mean to be a Christian?” If you’ve ever sat through a Hunt class you are questioning everything to the point that John is now Lazarus and the Gospels are proof that everything is subjective…even the infallible Word of God.

I have loved and appreciated this about Gordon from the moment I walked on the campus. It is the reason I came here. I didn’t want to be handed doctrine but to discover it. At times this rocks me. It is maddening to be told that every answer is just a hypothesis we haven’t yet rejected. It makes me think that in this College life, we spend too much time in the dramatic world of theory.

Yes we have the duty to seek, to search, and therein find. However it is important understand that, “The secret things belong to the Lord our God” (Deuteronomy 29:29). The verse continues, “the things that are revealed belong to us and to our children forever” why? “That we may do all the words of this law” meaning the practical things of faith that God requires.

Israel, talk about a people who had the right to question; like what does God have against pork and why can’t I boil a young goat in its mother’s milk? But God does not ask that we understand, He asks that we obey.

Dr. Wilson did in fact say more than those three words, but not much. He explained that God called him, he responded, and that it was a great and mysterious mix of free will and divine intervention. “At the end of the day”, said Wilson, “I am a pragmatist. I have tried my faith and it works.”

It became clear to me that even the thinkers don’t believe because in theory it works, but because in praxis it is proven. So in that case, let’s praxis.

Amelia

Mom, you know why I do bad things?

Because it gives me joy.

I eat food while my dad prays,

because it gives me joy.

I get sent to bed with no supper,

because it gives me joy.

I brush the counter's teeth as well,

because it gives me joy.

I stare and I am not afraid

because it gives me joy.

God stopped the rain, 'cause twice I prayed

this gives me greater joy.

Pancakes a la Masonic Temple.

Mid Saturday morning Me, My Uggs, and I went to Beverly MA. This is not unusual, but our destination was.

 I unknowingly ordered a subscription to the Salem News, thanks to my journalism professor and saw the ad "Pancake Breakfast from 8am -11am 5$ for adults 3$ for kids. All you can eat sausage, bacon, pancakes, coffee and tea." As a college student in an apartment, any opportunity for all you can eat food that is cooked for you, is practically heaven. 

 I convinced my roommate to go and three phone calls to the place later we were safely on 20 Washington street. Right outside the Masonic Temple where the pancakes were being served. This part was  bit of a shock since this hadn't been specified in the paper and I think the whole secret society thing was toying with my subconsious. Nevertheless we walked onward and inward, though to say boldly would be lying.

While inside I saw a table where an elderly man and two elderly women sat. I asked if it they had room for two. They stared at me. Apparently overly excited doesn't go well in the East, especially in the morning. Gradually and slowly the conversation picked up and we talked about Chicago, Boothbay, Maine, and their children who are now all old enough to be my parents. 

It was such an interesting time that me and the roomie decided it would be fun to go back, besides, we do wonders for the age range. 

I asked my pancake friends if they would be back again, and they said "yes, well, if we remember."

Il Postino

This weekend Me, My Uggs, and I saw Il Postino, or The Postman. It is a foreign film about Pablo Neruda the Chilean poet and his exile and subsequent stay in Italy.




While in Italy Neruda meets one of Film's most endearing and beautiful characters, Mario Ruoppolo played by Massimo Troisi.


The beauty of this film is heightened by the sacrifice of Troisi's death. Troisi was aware of his heartcondition before he agreed to be apart of the movie, but felt its making was so important he wouldn't stop. He died 12 hours after film stopped rolling.


This movie renewed my love for poetry and reminded me of its power. It showed a poor man, who when given the power of words may not have shaken the world, but made ripples that touch all human shores.

*Picture taken from Google images.

Keeping Sanity.

Me, My Uggs, and I: Day 3

Today was on of those days where it didn't matter if I was Grace Kelly or Beyoncé, it still would have been terrible.

So I went to the place

that keeps me sane.

stood on the edge of something bigger than myself.

Gazed at the

magnificent.

Captured what no scientist

or philosopher could steal. 

I found the outcast,

the discarded and

praised their beauty.

I heard whispers

and Untold stories

I discovered their secrets

and swore to tell the world.

"The Orange Tree in the Midst of Nightmare"

Me, My Uggs, and I day 2:

Today my overgrown moccasins were somewhat of a burden in the 80degree weather. No matter, we pressed on. After quickly finishing some homework, it was off to Chapel.

Speaker David Lovelace shared his life and struggles, living with bipolar disorder. He talked about how he hid “behind the term spiritual oppression and did not face the fact that I was ill." For Lovelace facing this supernatural battle was easier than facing the fact that he was sick.

He referred to the story of Jacob wrestling with the Angel. As they wrestled, Jacob told the Angel that he wouldn’t stop unless he received his blessing. Then the Angel touched his hip and “Jacob walks away with a screwed up hip, blessed," said Lovelace. "And I feel like Jacob. I am bipolar and I am blessed."

The way he described madness was mind-blowing. He described it as a series of fast connections: a brilliant babble.

He told of an exhilarating terrifying abyss with a glimpse of beauty, "an Orange tree in the midst of a dark nightmare."

9am Classes and Politics

At 8:50am I dawned a baby blue blouse, a navy blue an over-sweater with ruffled collar, put on my chocolate brown shorts and last but not least, my Uggs.

Journalism class was crowing, the faithful rooster, and I set off discouraged by my hair and empty coffee mug. Nevertheless, through our 9am brains, valuable conversation percolated.

The topic was our two-party system which some declared so polarizing that hating the other party was the only natural response. Preventing this would require an intentional amnesiac.

A classmate said "what we face today is passionate barbarianism." His example was the recent Town Hall meetings surrounding the proposed Healthcare plan.

I do not know if he was right or wrong in his diagnosis. What came to mind was the famous quote by Patrick Henry, "Give me Liberty or give me Death!" to which the response was "to arms, to arms!" and the labor pains commenced (William Wirt, Life and Character of Patrick Henry, 123). Would this too have seemed 'passionate barbarianism'? Maybe, maybe not.

We must be carful how we choose to offend. Politeness in place of Freedom is un-American at its core. Yet neglecting our intellectual duties will never produce Liberty.

Ps. 19

Me, My Uggs, and I

Me, My Uggs, and I. This is a blog series about me, and the 100 day challenge to wear my Sheepykins with every outfit.

I will be posting a picture of each outfit and and blogging about our daily adventures. Why? Well, because it is not so much about they Uggs, as what I do and wear with them. 

I am currently sporting the Ultimate Short in Chestnut, size 9 which is an embarrassment to my stature, but nonetheless these cozy clodhoppers have been good to me.

If you think this is cheesy? Welcome to my life. Boring? No one is asking you to read. Endearing? I humbly thank you. Entertaining? Well, I won't ask that much. 

Sincerely, 

Me, My Uggs, and I.