We had a bracketing system going, but it didn’t take much for us to see that Dr. Keith Anderson was dominating the game. He cleared out every player that came against him!

The final round was Keith Anderson vs. our new academic dean, Dr. Derek McNeil. It was the closest game, but Keith eked out the win.

Congrats to Dr. Anderson. We’re all ready for next year’s rematch.

Recently, Mars Hill Graduate School sent off another class of students with a meaningful graduation ceremony. Each year, a student from each degree program is chosen by the faculty and student body to speak on behalf of their class. This year, three phenomenal speakers gave us a glimpse of what they learned over the past few years. You can read or listen to the short speeches of each speaker below.

Paula Womack, MACP

All of you have, in some way, helped us get here and this was no small task.  So, it is an honor to be up here today, and an honor to be in the company of the other women from whom you will hear this morning.  It means a great deal that you have chosen to celebrate with us today.  Thank you.

As I thought about what to say today, I thought of the countless conversations, class lectures, practicums, reading groups, hallway meetings, office hours and happy hours that have impacted me, and will continue to shape my life.  However, there are two conversations in particular that I want to speak about today because they occurred at the beginning of my time at MHGS, and with two people I barely knew.  They have been present with me since then and have turned out to be eerily thematic during the last three years.  The first conversation was with Jo-Ann Badley, Professor of Biblical Studies and a mighty Canadian Woman.  Being the staunch Feminist that I was (and am), I had gone to see her to inquire about her work as a woman in the predominantly male field of theology, in addition to talking about what I hoped to be/do throughout my time at MHGS.  I do not remember what I said specifically, but I have no doubt that it included doing some great and mighty works of justice and salvation at MHGS. At the end of our conversation she offered me some profound wisdom.  She spoke to the essential task of seeking beauty and goodness in this life, as well as learning how to spiritually sustain oneself in the midst of battles if, in fact, I was created to fight them.  If I did not do this, I would become bitter and burnt out.  She ended with a call to be a woman of peace who could withstand the hardship of battles and to remain hopeful and to offer light.

Second conversation:  again, a conversation around the issue of social justice in the city of Seattle and included a discussion about my passions as well.  At the end of our time together, he looked at  me and said, “there is no doubt you will lead people through hard things, but can you learn to find rest in your own life in order to help those you lead also rest in the midst of those hard things?”  I remember being taken totally off guard.  In fact, these conversations made me wonder as to what it was that prompted these people to say such things.  What was flowing out of me that I was not even aware of?  And what did they know that I didn’t?   They exuded such a curious confidence in these strange ideas.  And everywhere I went, I heard similar themes, both in general and in response to me.

Well, what I am continuing to learn, in surprising ways, is that the rest, goodness and peace these two people were talking about had more to do with the deep soul rest that comes from knowing that to be the face of Christ means living into my humanity, not into some false notion of my divinity.  Yes, Jesus was God but he was also human and, since I was created to be human, to be a Woman, and not God, I am called to the non-glamorous work and play of being human. But, this has been one of the hardest tasks of my time at Mars Hill Graduate School because to embrace my humanity means to embrace my needs, my failures, my desires, my limits, my beauty and my power.  Unfortunately, but maybe fortunately, this is often awkward and messy and I do not like being messy.  However, it is where I have found more freedom than I have known for a really long time…maybe ever.  There is freedom because I have been surrounded by those who have loved my mess and called me to use it as a way to love others.  I hope this freedom leads to a freedom to be in my own unique skin.  This, I hope, will then help me to offer care and compassion to others as they seek freedom in their unique way of being.

That is my hope for all of us.  That, no matter what our calling, vocation or role in life, we are able to steward with wisdom all that we have learned at MHGS.  My hope is that our learning to rest in who we are as women and men emboldens us to rest deeply enough in our broken and beautiful humanity, that we are propelled to truly listen to wounded souls, and to “do justice, love kindness and to walk humbly with our God.”

Jeanette White, MACS

During my 3 years at Mars Hill Graduate School, a typical end of term assignment for classes has sounded something like this: Summarize, integrate, and synthesize twelve weeks of intense lecture and twelve-hundred pages of rigorous academic reading into a personally reflective and professionally researched paper.

Oh, and do it in just six to eight double-spaced pages, please! Sound familiar, class of 2010?

In many ways, the task of composing this speech has felt much like the process of writing these papers: lots of material to cover, but little space, so I must thoughtfully narrow it down to the one essential thing that I most want to say. As daunting as these all-encompassing assignments felt each time I approached them, the routine of wading through everything to get to that one essential thing proved to be as much a part of my learning experience as the class time itself. The process not only deepened my understanding of the course material, but it also illuminated the concepts that became the most intriguing, challenging, or personally transforming for me.

So for this one last assignment of a graduation speech, which I am so honored to be up here sharing with you today, I reflected deeply on the impact that these three unforgettable years have had on my life. And if I had to name one of the most important themes from my time here, it would definitely be the way in which my faith has been shaped and changed. At its core, my work at MHGS has invited me toward a theology of increased space, which in turn has led to greater room in my heart for the wholly Other nature of God, as well as more grace and hope for myself, for those that I love, and for this world.

To understand what I mean when I say I have acquired a theology of space, I want to reflect for a moment on what I thought I wanted when I enrolled here. I began the Christian Studies program feeling like I didn’t know enough about my faith, and I was seeking concrete tools and answers to discern exactly what I should think and believe. In short, I wanted a clear set of skills and rules that would give me an “airtight” theology, so that I could once and for all understand God correctly.

But the thing about an airtight theology, is that once it is sealed, it is no longer open to being touched or changed by even the slightest breath of fresh inspiration. And when I truly consider how God has worked, and has been revealed over time in this world, it becomes clear that we are unable to predict exactly how he will choose to move and to love.

Through my studies here, I have determined that God’s motto for faith may be something along the lines of this: Be prepared to be surprised. Be prepared to let a little fresh air into that box of limited human understanding in which you hold me. Be prepared to make room for the unexpected movement of my Spirit, and to make space for me to show up in places that you did not think I could exist. Be prepared to be surprised.

I have often said over the course of these three years that, while I still believe many of the same things, I now believe them differently. For example, I leave this place knowing that God’s deepest desire for me and for all of you is redemption, relationship, and liberation. And while at its core this conviction is no different from what I believed upon entering this program, it holds a different kind of hope and expectation than it did three years ago — because my understanding of God has been stretched, and opened, to hold new paradigms and possibilities.

So I thank you, Mars Hill Graduate School, for rooting my belief in a God who goes to extravagant, mind-bending, Jesus-coming-to-earth lengths to stay connected with us, and to heal us. I thank you, Mars Hill Graduate School,  for helping me see that flexibility, curiosity, and the embrace of mystery are hopeful and necessary companions to both my faith and my ability to love myself others well.

Because you see, in making space for God to be revealed as bigger and different than we thought was possible, we suddenly gain more space to love and to honor both ourselves and the lives and stories of those around us.

This is what I have learned to do at Mars Hill Graduate School, and it is the everything and the one thing that I hope for each of you here today. Thank you.

Kj Swanson, MDiv

I’m not a fan of countdowns. At the turn of the millennium in 1999, I actually boycotted the new years countdown and did a movie marathon instead. I can’t deal with the pressure of those final seconds, the tick…tick…tick of what exists- suddenly becoming what doesn’t exist… The End has no time to be an End before in a second it’s replaced with a Beginning. But here I am, at the ten…nine…eight…seven of my life as a student at Mars Hill Graduate School. And so are you.

I’ve been in this community for fours years. Many of you today are completing the work of three years. Some of you, have done it all in two.  And a few mighty perseverant folk have been here for sevenish.  It is strange that we don’t end with everyone we began with. Last year, when I watched the main cohort of 2006 graduate with their three-year degrees, I felt like all of my stories were leaving with them. And I can only wonder at the strangeness for those of you graduating ahead of those with whom you began.  But I do know this–we are all ending together.

And here’s the significant thing about countdowns- at least the New Years kind.  In the incomprehensible moment between the End of a year and the Beginning of a new one–in the space between Then and Now, when the unfathomable weight and reality of unstoppable time threatens to crush your tenuous human consciousness- some brilliant person realized long ago- this would be a good time to kiss…To pass through that liminal space holding and being held by another.  And here in this liminal space of graduation, all I can really think of are those who have held me and whom I am holding.

I have delighted in the labor of my education here. And to be graduating as a woman with a Masters of Divinity means no small thing.  But right now, what I most want to name about this school, this community- is that with you and because of you, I have loved better and failed more than I’ve ever been allowed to love or fail before. Because, through thesemen and women, and the women and men you’re sitting next to right now, we learned to set down our Missions to save the world, our Plans to construct the most airtight theologies, and instead– learned to love and honor God by honoring and loving one another.  We may have come wanting to save souls, but what we learned is how to care for souls. We learned that the effort of trying to be honest with ourselves, with one another, and with God- is much harder and far more worthwhile then the effort to convince others of our best guesses.  We have learned and forgotten and learned again the humility and joy that come from being transformed through relationship.

And our transformation continues as this liminal space between Student and Graduate gets smaller. In a few minutes, we’ll start walking across this stage. Then Naomi will sing to us. We’ll pray with Chelle and Rachael, and Keith will bless us. We are Ending and we are Beginning. And here in this space between, I cling to the words of the psalmist who promises “Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet, righteousness and peace will kiss.”

Happy New Year.

–

Congratulations to all the graduates. We are so proud and cannot wait to see what new adventures you will take on.

Often postmodern Christians (whatever that really means anyway) get accused of not taking the Bible seriously, as sacred. I would strongly disagree though. My experience with the emerging church movement has been one of intense love and respect for the biblical text, just not for the traditional biblical inerrancy that is prevalent in modern Christianity. Marcus Borg says it this way:

“…the emerging paradigm sees the Bible’s status as sacred, as “Holy Bible,” as the result of a historical process, not as the consequence of its divine origin. The process is known as canonization. The documents that now make up the Bible were not sacred when they were written, but over time were declared to be sacred by ancient Israel and early Christianity…By declaring these writings to be sacred, our spiritual ancestors declared them to be the most important documents they knew” (Borg, The Heart of Christianity, 47).

After reading Borg’s thoughts, this seemed so obvious. If the sacred-ness of a text does not come from the communal affirmation of it through canonization, then any other ‘gospel’ or writing would need to be seen as sacred too, including the Gnostic Gospels and anything else someone has said “came from God” or “came from the Spirit.” This communal affirmation of a text’s importance seems to give it much more credence and respect.

It is for this reason that I plan on exploring an idea I am calling ‘relational hermeneutics’ for my integrative project in a few years. There is a growing movement in the church where communities are attempting to read the scriptures collectively, rather than simply as individuals. The Evangelical emphasis on personal ‘quiet time’ can easily lead to an onslaught of destructive readings that are not held accountable by the community. Relational hermeneutics takes seriously the idea that everyone has something to offer one another as we all approach the scriptural text, rather than simply hearing from the ‘expert’ on high and believing their (typically ‘his’) opinion. I desperately desire to see this healthier, holistic, communal way of reading the text take root in churches, and anxiously await the opportunity to explore this idea further.

—

Jason Bowker is a 3rd year M.Div. student at Mars Hill Graduate Student. He is passionate about the church and preaching and plans on pastoring or church planting following graduation. In his free time, Jason enjoys rock climbing, camping, playing sports, and playing guitar. He and his wife live in Capitol Hill and serve as worship leaders at a small, Episcopal church in Maple Valley, WA.

One way that this vision-crafting has happen is through my process of blogging. I began blogging a few years ago with some sort of idea that I had something to offer to the world (which I still believe). I had no idea, though, how much I would be shaped through this writing process. I assumed I would be the one doing the shaping through my insightful thoughts and witty rhetoric, but I quickly realized that I was being transformed far more than I was transforming others. I was being changed.

Blogging has developed within me a heightened sense of awareness to the world around me. When I am consistent and regular in my writing, the world becomes a potential post. In some ways this could compare to a sort of spider-sense (borrowing from the comic world), as I am increasingly and acutely more alert to my surroundings. Each encounter on the bus has potential to teach. Each conversation with a friend is an opportunity for transformation. Each movie I watch or song I hear has potential for deeper understanding. Blogging has helped craft my eyes to better see the world around me. It has altered my hermeneutic. It has changed me forever.

—

Jason Bowker is a 3rd year M.Div. student at Mars Hill Graduate Student. He is passionate about the church and preaching and plans on pastoring or church planting following graduation. In his free time, Jason enjoys rock climbing, camping, playing sports, and playing guitar. He and his wife live in Capitol Hill and serve as worship leaders at a small, Episcopal church in Maple Valley, WA.

During one of my after-school program observations one year, the children in the class were learning Philippians 2:14, “Do everything without complaining.” The teacher asked the children to give examples of situations when they shouldn’t complain. I listened passively as the children named “normal” situations: complaining when their parents ask them to do chores, complaining when they have conflict with their siblings, etc. But my easy, passive mood quickly changed when one child – Seth – confessed, “I shouldn’t complain when I’m hungry.”

It’s hard to explain the thoughts and emotions that I’m forced to reconcile when I have faces like Seth’s imprinted in my mind. My ideals are challenged, and my beliefs questioned. While I normally experience significant internal conflict over the seemingly infinite ethical dilemmas that I face in this work (including whether it’s even my place to do this work at all), I consistently find rest and overwhelming gratitude when I watch children like Seth play, learn, grow, and even eat most days in after-school program.

I feel similar gratitude in the large community of widows that I work with in Cameroon. After organizing over 300 of them into small support groups in 2006 and training facilitators for each group, many of these women have taken serious ownership of their groups. They have grown not only in the way they support and encourage one another but even to the degree of reaching beyond themselves and working to help the neediest people in their communities. In contrast to the way these women literally begged me to help them a few years ago, I am deeply humbled as it now feels more like they are helping me. Every year, they invite me into their community, feed me, listen to me, laugh with me, pray for me, and eventually bless me through their tears when I leave them to return home. My gratitude goes beyond words in moments like these.

This year, as I’m currently entering birth and post-partum doula work in the USA, I plan to spend more time with these women in Cameroon by allowing them to introduce me to their culture’s way of encountering birth. I hope to attend several births, begin to learn the birth and post-partum customs of Kom culture, and offer training in any doula skills and care that might be needed. In this, I’m excited to discover even more opportunities to bless and be blessed by the Kom people of Cameroon.

If you are interested in following my journey to Cameroon this year or reading stories of my previous work, please feel free to visit my blog: aprocessofbecoming.blogspot.com. Also, because I work on a 100% volunteer basis, my work in Cameroon is completely dependent on donations. If you’re interested in contributing to my work and helping me return to Cameroon this year, you can make a donation of any amount to me through PayPal. There’s a link to make a PayPal donation on my blog, or you can send it directly to baine_craft@msn.com.

—

Laurie is a 2010 MACP graduate of MHGS. She’s mostly trying to survive the seemingly inevitable post-graduation identity crisis but also very excited to be in the process of becoming a certified birth and post-partum doula. She blogs regularly at aprocessofbecoming.blogspot.com.

Bell is the founding pastor of Mars Hill Bible Church in Grand Rapids, Michigan. He is the author of four books, including the widely popular Velvet Elvis. He was also the face of the first segment of short films in the Nooma series. His love for the biblical text, awareness of 1st century and contemporary culture, and unparalleled communication style make him one of the leading voices in the church today. Time Magazine has even gone as far as calling Bell ‘the next Billy Graham.’

For many MHGS students, Bell has been a voice of hope in the midst of personal doubt, questioning of faith, and uncertainty about the future of Christianity. Many of us came to this school out of disillusionment with the church, having been burned by the trappings of religion. We love the church but still desire more for her, and Bell has been a guiding light, helping lead us down paths of reclaiming and restoring her for the good. For me and my wife, at various times of difficulty in our life, Rob has served as my pastor in more ways than any local pastor with which I was in relationship, speaking truth into our lives through weekly podcasted sermons and periodical pilgrimages to his faith community in Michigan.

Bell will be a teaching a class this fall on homiletics, the ‘art of the sermon.’ He hosted a conference in Grand Rapids this past summer called ‘Poets, Prophets, and Preachers,’ where he explored the lost art of preaching for three days with thousands of pastors from across the country and around the globe. I was privileged to be there and will be forever grateful for the immense wisdom he shared with us. I cannot wait for Rob to grace MHGS with his presence and to be able to explore these profound ideas further with my fellow students. What a blessing this course will be.

One of the more revealing questions to ask people these days is, “What’s on your iPod?” It’s a question which, while indicative of the times, also gives us a window into one of the most important (and intimate) devices in our lives. And it’s a question that can be an instant conversation starter (or a great pickup line, depending upon your motive!).

My answer to the query? A mixture of (legally) downloaded Dave Matthews concerts, and a litany of podcasts covering sports, art, politics, and culture. And while I’ll save an explanation for my undying devotion to DMB for another time, I’ll simply say that finding the “right” podcast – one that captures my interest and has something insightful to say about our world – is like discovering a sweet surprise. So when I became frustrated by the selection of podcasts in the “religious/spiritual” category in iTunes, I entertained fleeting thoughts about starting my own.

I had been craving a kind of podcast that allowed me to eavesdrop on folks engaged in rigorous theological discourse, a conversation that had something compelling and prophetic to say about our world and our theological place in it, and one which pushed me to consider and reconsider my own deeply held assumptions about God’s work in the world. Simply put, I had been looking for a podcast that wasn’t simply another sermon or daily audio devotional, but an intellectual engagement with some of our cultural themes and assumptions through a theological lens. So when I stopped merely pondering the idea of producing my own podcast and became serious about it, developing the project with The Other Journal felt like a natural fit.

I’ve been a fan of TOJ for some time, having written for them a few years back and also knowing many of the good people who work on it. They are a tremendous resource for articles that nudge us to see the movement of God anew, and for writing which creatively connects the world of theology, philosophy, art, and cultural critique. When I pitched the idea to Chris Keller – TOJ’s editor-in-chief – he seemed enthusiastic about broadening the scope of TOJ to include a podcast, and we got to work brainstorming potential guests and its place within TOJ’s online quarterly. Before I knew it, the TOJ Podcast was born!

We’ve gotten off to a strong start, I think, as we’ve featured lectures by and interviews with Kelly Johnson, Emmanuel Katangole, James K.A. Smith, Peter Rollins and MHGS’s very own  Dwight Friesen. And we’re continuing to publish more all the time, all in the hopes of providing a thoughtful conversation aimed at exploring the various theological critiques of our culture.

It has been a sheer delight to meet such fascinating thinkers and people, and to discover what occupies their time and attention. I still feel like a novice as an interviewer and producer, and I’m working hard to ask stronger, more insightful questions all the time. But I hope in the process listeners find themselves considering their theological and cultural assumptions a little differently at the end of each episode.

Tom Ryan earned his Master’s of Divinity from Mars Hill Graduate School in 2007. He blogs semi-regularly at tomrryan.com and on Twitter: @tomrryan. You can download episodes or subscribe to the TOJ Podcast by visiting: http://bit.ly/tojpodcast.

“How much time have we wasted trying to make ‘bigger and better’ or ‘slicker and sweeter’ messages instead of just being the messengers?” – Play Time: Finding the Freedom to Imagine and Explore by Betty Spackman, author and installation artist.

Awhile ago I was asked to submit a proposal to a publisher for a set of short films. As I sat down to write the proposal, I became acutely aware of the fact that what I was creating was very quickly going to be turned into a product. All of a sudden I was thinking about demographics, marketing, target audiences. Before I could even get started I was paralyzed, knowing that what I was writing would be subject not only to the scrutiny of my own creative process, but also to whether or not the publisher thought she could sell it. Sitting at my desk, I knew I had a choice. I could write what was inside of me. In other words, be the messenger. Or, I could write for the publisher, giving them something that might not be from my heart, but I knew they could sell.

I thought to myself, certainly there must be a place that lies somewhere between these two extremes.

How many times a week does this happen in our organizations? A creative person sits down at their desk with an idea. But before they can put pen to paper, they realize their idea will soon be critiqued, not only for its inherent artistic value, but also for its potential appeal to the audience – will the leader like it, will it move people to do good, will it change lives? There is no easy answer to this dilemma. For it is not an easy task to live in the tension. We want an either, or’s. And yet the art of tension lies somewhere in the middle. A third way, if you will.

For me, the art of holding the tension between being the messenger and being a producer begins by creating environments of safety. Pastors and priests: if you want great visions, you must take good care of your prophets.

While not the case for everyone, some of you know all too well that your church is not a safe place for your messengers, artists, and prophets. The reasons vary from not having enough to time to create something from the heart, to the direct dismissal of creatives as disorganized weirdos. Regardless of the reason, these unsafe places have created communities deprived of the deep, complex, and beautiful mysteries of the faith that cannot always be spoken of in a sermon.

The artist is the pastor of the 21st century whether we like it or not.

Spackman writes: “Whether one is an artist or not, I think as Christians we are all implicated in the horrendous deficiency of imagination, the visual illiteracy, the dispassionate celebrations of ‘the joy of our salvation,’ the uncaring lamentations of our sorrow for the oppressed and wounded, our lack of protest for the destruction of our ecosystem and the consumerist kitsch that is the predominant expression of faith in most of the Christian community.”

If the above is news to you, know that the creative professionals in your organization have long been aware. They have felt the deep pain of working and volunteering in places that are lacking in creativity and imagination for sometime now. Those of you who are leaders have an incredible opportunity to revitalize your community by beginning the difficult work of trusting and affirming the visions and dreams of your creative professionals. This process, however, will not be easy, nor will it be quick. But, if you are willing to live in the tension of letting your artists free and not micro-managing the creative process, you will begin to experience some amazing things.

The following is neither an exhaustive list of how to accomplish this, nor a step-by-step plan. Instead, what follows are a few things I think might help your team along.

Leaders, my challenge to you is to gather your creatives and ask them what they dream about. Ask them about the art they create. Ask them to share with you their vision of your community. Ask them to tell you what it is they find mysterious about following Christ. Ask them to dream of a place where they would be free to experiment and make mistakes. And then (here is the tough part), work tirelessly to create that place for them.

If you want to grow the mystery of Christ in your church, you must first foster mystery among your staff.

Creatives, my challenge to you is to be honest to yourself, your leaders, God. Perhaps the most tragic part of your calling as prophets and visionaries is that you will not always be understood. In fact, most of the time you will not. Be careful, however, that being misunderstood isn’t something you carry as a badge of honor. Simply know this: more often than not, the prophet will be called into the court to share her vision; she will be lauded and praised, and then she will quickly be dismissed.

Do not be discouraged and do not lose heart. You are desperately needed.

While your leaders might only now be able to ask you questions, it will be your task to gently guide them into your world. Give them grace when you are dismissed and offer strong words when you have more to say. The art of holding this tension will be largely in your hands.

So, how will you hold it?

If we are truly carrying the gospel with us in our daily experiences, through breakfast, and meetings, and coffee breaks, and creative brainstorming sessions, then it should spill out quite naturally into the art we create. It is inherently marked and stamped by the truth we hold in the center of ourselves. If this is true, then our offerings do not need to be big, better, slick, or sweet. They need only to be honest.

And yet with this honesty comes the great and difficult tension that we have been speaking of. It is the tension that comes from our deep desire to create work that serves the community we are a part of, affects the hearts of people who refuse to be touched, and provides a path toward redemption and restoration. It is the tension that comes from creating something from the center of your being that is neither product, nor production, but an outward pouring of beauty.

Again, there are no simple or easy answers to offer. Instead, I say this:

May you simply be kind to yourself and may you hold the tension well.

Blaine lives with his wife, Margaret just outside of Chicago and works as an Experience Engineer at Willow Creek Community Church. He blogs regularly at www.blainehogan.comand tweets @blainehogan.

For the C.S. Lewis class, four of us did a presentation on Prince Caspian. We focused on the novel’s theme of exile and return, viewed through the lens of Isaiah. Since I first read the book in 1999, I’ve been haunted by the image of the Penvensie children wandering around the ruins of a castle only to slowly realize its their former home of Cair Paravel, but somehow hundreds of years have passed. That feeling of being in a place that was once home, but is now completely unfamiliar or in ruins is resonant of other characters in the book who have been living exiled from their culture or identity. The tree spirits have gone dormant, the animals have gone wild and forgotten how to speak, or hidden their speech if they’ve not gone wild, dwarves have had to “pass” for men, and even the children have trouble recovering the memories of their Narnian identity.

We wanted to offer our classmates an aspect of this experience in the context of our own lives. We did this in three ways. First we completely demolished the classroom. As people entered the room, they had to sit amongst the ruins, or as some identified, the “war zone” remains of the classroom. Then, with many people on the floor next to turned over chairs and tables, we began by hearing portions of Isaiah 44, which in the context of the Narnia story and our sitting in the rubble of our classroom, held more potent meaning than I’d expected. Here’s a bit of the text.

Isaiah 44:21-28
21 Remember these things, O Jacob,and Israel, for you are my servant; I formed you, you are my servant; O Israel, you will not be forgotten by me. 22 I have swept away your transgressions like a cloud, and your sins like mist; return to me, for I have redeemed you. 23 Sing, O heavens, for the Lord has done it; shout, O depths of the earth; break forth into singing, O mountains, O forest, and every tree in it! For the Lord has redeemed Jacob, and will be glorified in Israel. 24 Thus says the Lord, your Redeemer, who formed you in the womb:I am the Lord, who made all things, who alone stretched out the heavens, who by myself spread out the earth; 25 who frustrates the omens of liars, and makes fools of diviners; who turns back the wise, and makes their knowledge foolish; 26 who confirms the word of his servant, and fulfills the prediction of his messengers; who says of Jerusalem, “It shall be inhabited,” and of the cities of Judah, “They shall be rebuilt, and I will raise up their ruins”; 27 who says to the deep, “Be dry— I will dry up your rivers”; 28 who says of Cyrus, “He is my shepherd, and he shall carry out all my purpose”; and who says of Jerusalem, “It shall be rebuilt,” and of the temple, “Your foundation shall be laid.”

Then, still in the dark and destroyed classroom, we played this video.
(It had music but we can’t seem to get it to play).
It works best (is most emotionally manipulative) if you play some wordless soundtrack music with it. We used Max Richter.
And the video ends at 3:32, but the powerpoint continues after it.

The Caspian Experience from Kj Swanson on Vimeo.
Then we led a more formal presentation and discussion time, but as we spoke, two of our group members slowly returned to classroom to its proper shape, so by the time we were done, the room looked normal again, except that no one was sitting in their usual place. Everyone was spread out along the edges or in clumps at some tables. Many of us had been “exiled” by the disruption of the space.

Hard to say how much of our ideas came across in the presentation or even in this blog post, but we loved doing it. I realized in the process that this was probably my last group project ever at MHGS, and I loved getting to work withpeople I’d never partnered withbefore. I felt like I was the old timer getting to work with the energetic whippersnappers who will be at MHGS long after I’ve graduated. Kind of like old Professor Kirke getting to hear Peter, Edmund, Susan and Lucy tell about the world they found in the wardrobe. It was wonderful.

Kj’s post was originally written for her blog.

Each year, Mary Rainwater, MHGS

Seattle’s 36^th International Film Festival (SIFF) begins Thursday evening, May 20^th and runs thru Sunday June 13^th at multiple venues in and around Seattle. Documentary, narrative, animated and experimental films from the Northwest and around the world give you plenty of chances to try out something new – something you might never get the chance to see anywhere else. With literally hundreds of films to choose from, and little or no advanced reviews, it is a gamble – obviously every film is not to every taste.  But, what you see will almost certainly be different than what is playing at your local cineplex.

I have been attending preview press screenings for the last 3 weeks and have seen about 35 films so far. Here are some of my favorites that I believe might be of interest to MHGS folks:

WINTER’S BONE – Grand Jury Prize winner at Sundance this year, this extraordinary film is set in the rural Ozarks of Missouri. This is a community of grinding poverty, fierce independence, simmering violence and complex blood ties. Ree is only 17 years old but doing her best to feed & care for her young siblings and ailing mother.  When her meth-cooking dad posts bail using the family home as bond, she heads out to track him down to make sure he returns to stand trial.  Problem is, nobody in the community (most of who are related to her) wants him found.  This film is both bleakly beautiful and stunningly powerful with a heroine you will never forget.

HEDGEHOG – a delightful French film based on the best-selling novel “The Elegance of the Hedgehog.”  Disenchanted with life’s hypocrisies, an 11-year old Parisian girl decides to end her life on her next birthday.  However, in the intervening weeks she closely observes life in her apartment building and discovers unexpected new friendships that just might change her mind.  (This is a French film however, so don’t expect too happy of an ending!)

RAPT – another French film – this one a thriller about a rich industrialist kidnapped for a huge ransom, but as facts about his life come to light, his family and his company begin to wonder how much he is really worth to them.  (This one has an icky bit – about 30 seconds of his finger being cut off – but you can close your eyes).

LETTERS TO FATHER JACOB – a lovely Swedish film about tough and sullen Leila who is pardoned from a life-sentence in prison to work at a parsonage answering letters for the elderly and blind Father Jacob.  This one is visually lush with a beautiful musical score and is a heart-felt and graceful tale of love and redemption.

NOWHERE BOY – an English film telling the story of John Lennon’s early years – it ends as the very young Beatles head off to Germany for the gig that started them on the road to fame.  Young John had an interesting but difficult childhood with a strange (histrionic? bi- polar?) mother who turned him over to his aunt to raise, but still hovered around his life.   As my friend Sally said, this would be a fascinating movie even if it wasn’t about someone who later became a Beatle.

Some practical SIFF advice:

• Pick up a schedule anywhere around town or visit the website (www.siff.net)
• Each film only shows a couple times so it is best to keep alert.
• Films with good word-of-mouth often sell out, so buying tickets in advance is good.
• Get to your theatre early and bring your patience.  There will probably be massive lines and crowded theatres (but that can be part of the fun – everyone around you will want to talk about what they’ve seen and what they’ve heard is good).
• Be willing to experiment.  If you have trouble choosing what you want to see, just pick something at random and try it out.  Surprises abound.

Mary Rainwater is part of the MHGS Library staff and prolific movie watcher. When she’s not enjoying SIFF, Mary is in the library processing ILLs and offering students the best movie recommendations.