if God is infinite...

then God's got time to be annoyed by everything.

(Thanks, LP!)

on his way

A few weeks back, Brent's final requirement for the practical liturgy class he was taking was a "practice Mass." It's not a real Mass, because he's not ordained yet. He won't be able to celebrate a Mass until after he is ordained a priest, which will be at least six months after his ordination as transitional deacon, which is scheduled for early June. So it's in a third floor classroom instead of chapel (so no one gets confused and thinks it's real); hence the strange whiteboard background behind the altar. The point of course is to give everyone a little practice from the inside out--after all, no matter how familiar you are with the liturgy as a worshipper, it's different when you're leading it. It's a fairly big deal, since celebrating a Mass--even a not-really-real practice one--is a big deal. And it's a sort of rite of passage around here. Some classmates participate, some attend to support and encourage, some attend to try to trip you up by stealing the host or grabbing the chalice or otherwise acting crazy. (Watch Part 4 and see if you can figure out why everyone's snickering at they walk to their seats, and when the host gets put in someone's pocket.)

Of course, sharing this video with the world is entirely my idea and Brent loves me enough to let me have my way. He would never post this on his blog. Of course, he never posts anything on his blog.



(Part 1: Procession, Opening Collect, scripture readings, Gospel, first bit of homily)





(Part 2: rest of homily, Nicene Creed, Prayers of the People)





(Part 3 begins at about 1:20: rest of Prayers of the People, General Confession, Absolution, the Peace, the Offering, the Great Thanksgiving)

(Part 4: administration of communion, Postcommunion Prayer, Blessing, Recession)

And special thanks to my techno-savvy friend who made posting this video possible! Baked symbols of appreciation headed your way!

Kitty

So, some of you may remember a couple of years ago we discovered that Tiamat a.k.a. "Kitty" has chronic stomatitis. You may remember this because we freaked out when the vet told us we would probably have to extract all her teeth--and eventually definitely have to. That kind of procedure costs thousands of bucks...and as Brent kept pointing out with a sort of anthropocentric outrage, we haven't even been to the people dentist in years now.

So, since finding this out, our Princeton vet advised to try an initial treatment of periodic steroid shots and occasional antiobiotics to control the inflammation and infections in poor Kitty's mouth. I can still remember being 8 months pregnant with Clare, and getting down on the floor and trying to wrestle Tiamat into a position where we could squirt an alcohol-based antibiotic solution into her mouth with a syringe. (Yeah. That worked just super. After a couple rounds of that we called the vet back and said, um, NO. Alternatives? Oh, they say, just try putting it in her food. WHY didn't you SAY SO, people!!!)

Since then, every few months, we make another vet appt and take her in for a shot (or two) and another round of Clindamycin (or two). But like any stopgap measure, it loses efficacy after awhile. Plus, at $120 a visit, not even this stopgap is something we can really afford. But we have to do something for our kitty, and this has been the best we could do for her.

And never, until today, has anyone suggested that I call the Humane Society. Who runs a full-service clinic. With dental procedures. That existed for the purpose of providing necessary care for animals with owners of limited means.

Dr. Janet Ficarra at Downtown Veterinary Clinic on 9th Avenue and 19th St., YOU ARE MY CAT'S HERO.

I rushed home, called the Humane Society, asked a couple questions, and WOW. I still haven't talked to Brent, and services aren't free, but it's doable, and really, considering what it costs to make an appt every couple months at this point, more cost-effective than the steroid and antibiotics that aren't working well anymore.

So WHY oh WHY didn't this occur to me? Or WHY is it only now, with vet #3, that I get this recommendation in response to my guilty mumbled explanations of "I know we need to do it, but we just can't right now..."?

Clare says, "O-ba-ma!"

I did not, I promise, coach this. She spontaneously exclaimed "Obama!" earlier in the song, I grabbed the camera, and waited for the magic to happen again.

You can find the new Obama video here. Thanks for the link, Tracy.

this week is CRAZY LOCO!

So, Brent's week is crazy, my week is crazy, and Clare is thankfully oblivious. Oh for the simplicity of a toddler's life, where the only major academic achievement on the agenda is mastery of the ABC song. Not that I'm belittling this. This is major stuff. That girl can memorize like nothing I've ever seen. I probably should get her started on the Gettysburg Address or something.

Crazy item #1: Bonus opportunity to collaborate with my favorite feminist theologian! On feminism and cyborgs and spirituality! Yay!

Crazy item #2: AAR deadline thankfully extended to March 1 but dreadful pain in the ass trying to make a paper proposal on transhumanism align with my interests in the posthuman.

Crazy item #3: AAR deadline basically simultaneous with ACU deadline for September lectureship class topics/titles/description. Theme for '08: Righteousness of God: Exploring Romans. (Rats! Why didn't I take that Jimmy Allen class years ago when I was at Harding?) Ah well...no matter, I'm talking about cyborgs anyway. Don't believe me? Just wait. Assuming they don't take a look at my class titles and revoke the invite for reasons of sheer lunacy.

Crazy item #4: received my copies of the Leaven issue with the Canaanite woman sermon in it. Wow!

Crazy item #5: received word from the Christian Scholarship Foundation that they have renewed my grant for next year, and even more generously. Wow and wow again...and many, many thanks. It's not exaggerating to say that without this support, the dissertation would not be happening at all. I'd be waiting tables with Clare on my hip.

Summation: crazy GOOD. It's not only encouraging to have good work to do, but wildly affirming to hear an offer of collaboration, and be published, and of course, receive funding from people who have enough trust that what you're doing is worthwhile that they're willing to meet the bottom line for you.

buffering, please wait...

Not quite live blogging the debate here. We don't get MSNBC, and going to msnbc.com on Brent's computer resulted in unflattering frozen expressions, multiple reboots with requisite annoying commercials, and a lot of time sitting and staring at the words...

buffering, please wait...









Oh, we're back. So my first thought on the debate is, MSNBC sucks. Thanks a lot for taking an event of national political import, something which could potentially affect an enormous amount of people, and refusing to make it as widely available as possible to all people in multiple venues in favor of keeping the broadcasting rights all to yourself. Lovely! What does this say about the intersection of capitalism and American political process? Sure, NPR will broadcast the debate...starting at 11 pm. Gee, that's convenient.

So mainly, I'm hoping that nothing really important happened because despite intentions and a decent amount of effort, I didn't get to see it.

babies, church, and Good News

See Joe's post here.

It was such a privilege to participate in Joshua's dedication, and to pledge along with everyone else that we, CCfB, with God's help, will be Joshua's church family and nurture him as he grows in maturity and faith.

And as others have done before me (I remember a moving Communion meditation from a couple of years ago from Erin), the language of family was uppermost in my mind as I pondered the meaning of Communion this week:

When we take the time each Sunday to celebrate Communion, we recreate
together the night when Jesus first sat at the table with his disciples, and
broke the bread and drank the wine with them in the intimacy of a family eating
dinner together. These men and women who followed Jesus, learned from him,
ate and drank and talked and laughed with him, who left their homes and all that
they had out of loyalty and love for him, were his family. Jesus has said
so; earlier, when he’s told his mother and brothers want to see him; he looks
around at the people who have chosen to gather around him and says, this is my
family. Today we honor Trish and Ehi and the new family they have created,
by choosing each other and choosing this child, Joshua; at the same time, we
affirm that we are also family, all of us in this room, and promise to be that
family for Trish and Ehi. We have done this many times now; for Jasper,
for Ira, for Clare, for Annalise, and now we are privileged to do so again for
baby Joshua. This is the reality of what it means to be a church. It
is the family of God, and it is no coincidence that Paul calls us brothers and
sisters in Christ, and adopted children of God the Father. This language
of family is not casual. The language of family extends even to our
language for God. When we call God Father, especially as we prepare to
share in this meal together, we also call Jesus the Son. And when we
consider what it means that God the Father would call Jesus the Son to the
awesome responsibility of teaching and leading, and ultimately dying for and
rising up to new life again, for the sake of us—his adopted brothers and
sister—we see that the metaphor of family defines not just how we relate to each
other…but how God has chosen to relate to us.

Jesus looked around
at his family and said, “Take and eat; this is my body, broken for you.”
And he said, “Drink this, all of you; this is my blood of the new
covenant. Do this for the remembrance of me.” As we do this together
today, we remember and recreate and affirm those acts of sacrificial parental
love, of God the Father, and Jesus the Son of God, which make us all brothers
and sisters and children of God.

Yes We Can

Watching the Obama SC victory speech, I couldn't believe, even while experiencing it, that the Bob-the-Builder slogan chanting was so powerfully moving. What is it about "yes we can" that works?

When I blogged about that speech later, I ended with a halfhearted sense that maybe I would think more about the theological anthropology of "yes we can." I have been pondering this on and off since then but I don't think I can blog about it. For one thing, I've got some other deadlines to meet (thank you AAR for extending the Feb 25 deadline to Mar 1!) and for another, I'm now officially sick as a dog.

But I have noticed that my own speech has changed as a result of this slogan. When Clare gets frustrated with the buckle on her high chair--a relatively new fine-motor-skill achievement for her--I don't say, "Mommy help," I say, "Yes you can."

In fact, I chant it. I'm waiting for Clare to start joining in. I want "Yes We Can" to be something she learns so early on that she never wonders IF she can be a part of making the world the better place we all wish it was. When she catches on--and I've no doubt she will, my little verbal genius--move over, James Brown. "Baby baby baby" is cute, but "Yes We Can" is hope.

why I hate "You've Got Mail" and what has that got to do with ecclesiology? or politics?

No, it's not just because it happened to hit theaters just when Brent and I were starting to get serious with the emailing.

Honestly, I hate it because cute little Meg Ryan is all feminine-ly helpless in the face of male aggression--and the culmination of the plot is her seduction by the indifferent corporate villain and her assimilation into the children's section of a bland outsized bookstore. And we're supposed to be happy about it. Because, it's a romantic comedy. She falls in love, so it's all okay.

I, however, don't want to be assimilated.

I hope there are some folks out there who don't want that either.

***

Watching the Super Fat Tuesday coverage I happened to hear a news anchor sum up Huckabee's appeals to voters as "vote for me, I'm the candidate who's most like you." It seemed to be offered as a genuinely straightforward description, which made it all the more horrifying. In direct contrast to Obama's deliberate work to pull together a coalition that celebrates the diversity in its ranks, the strategy of "vote for me I'm like you" is revealed as a base xenophobic appeal. In my most polite and understated euphemism ever: YUCK.

***

If you were to talk about the nature of church, and the task of drawing people into deeper and more meaningful involvement in church, (is this the task? to get people involved in church?), what ecclesial vocab springs to mind? Incorporation into the body of Christ? Ingrafting into the kingdom of God? Full inclusion in the community of saints?

Or if we were really honest would we talk about assimilating people into our group so they'll be just like us?

super fat tuesday

Okay, so I'm glued to the TV and here in a minute we'll be breaking out the scotch.

***

I just realized what it is that I like so much about Obama. He's the cyborg candidate.

Oh, I don't mean he's a wired up cyborg or even that he's more technologically savvy than anyone else (although Katie Couric's been talking all about how well Facebook has been working for the Obama campaign). I mean it in Haraway's political sense. Hybridity defying categorical identity, and therefore offering a promise of potential unity on the basis of something other than "natural identity." On the basis of something like common sense. Or even hope.

But you've got to think that it's possible. And that's the other aspect of cyborg thought that Obama embodies so well. Haraway's cyborg is all about agency. Yes, we can.

***

I'm a bit afraid that Clinton, despite how much I like her, were she to get the nom, would fall prey to the temptation to play the Men's Game bigger and better. Fall prey to the temptation to prove that she is "strong" and a legitimate leader. And I don't think that we can survive any more political pissing matches.

***

My gut says that if Clinton gets the nomination, we can kiss the South good-bye. I think there are a lot of people who might vote for Obama instead of voting Republican but who would never vote for Clinton. My mother is one of them. I think there are a lot more.

***

verdict: Laphroiag is a lot smokier and complex than Glenlivet.

voted

Yes, we can.

warm fuzzy

I like being tagged for blog memes, it makes me feel warm and fuzzy. Thanks, Krister!

The game is:
Pick up the nearest book of at least 123 pages
Find page 123
Find the first 5 sentences
Post the next 3 sentences
Tag 5 people.

Attempt #1: Haraway's Modest_Witness displays a painting by Lynn Randolph, "Self-Consortium," on page 123. Haraway uses quite a lot of Randolph's work in this text. Randolph also produced the painting below, entitled "Cyborg," in response to Haraway's famous "Cyborg Manifesto."

So, attempt #2:

The third goal is to demonstrate what practical difference this counter discourse might make in respect to the formation and performance of Christian convictions within an emerging technoculture. This objective is completed in the final section by focusing on the central role of formative practices.

It was argued in the previous chapter that Christian theological claims about providence and anthropology are devoid of any meaningful content in the absence of eschatology.

My five: TKP, Mom, Em, Ally, Brent. Most of whom don't blog worth a damn anymore, but oh well.

cynicism sucks. I'm on board.

(Mom, this post is for you. Hope you're still "considering.")

I'm listening to the SC victory speech on youtube right now. And if I hadn't been for Obama before, I would be now.

Personally, I've been cynical for so long that I've found it difficult to shake. There's security in it; if you're cynical about all political process and all political candidates and all political rhetoric, then you're never going to be disappointed, you're never going to feel betrayed. You never expected anything better. And I experience Obama as a temptation. A temptation toward resuscitated hope and optimism and a trust in personal agency. And despite my like for him as a candidate, there's been a part of me that's resisted getting totally on board. I've been cynical too long. I don't want to contemplate what it may mean to trade it in for what still feels like a naive idealism, the kind that inevitably gets crushed by the implacable momentum of indifferent reality.

What's so powerful about this speech, to me, is that--whatever else is in there--Obama recognizes this.

"We're up against forces that feed the habits that prevent us from being who we
want to be as a nation...a politics that tells us we have to think, act and even
vote within the confines of the categories that supposedly define us... But
we're not just up against the ingrained and destructive habits of
Washington. We're also up against our own doubts, our own fears, our own
cynicism. The change we seek has always required great struggle and great
sacrifice. And so this is a battle in our own hearts and our own minds
about what kind of country we want, and how hard we're willing to work for it."

The message to me, and to those like me, is to take the risk. Of climbing out of the security of cynicism and daring the vulnerability of hoping, and working toward the America we wish we lived in. Of making our citizenship something we can legitimately take some pride in, instead of adopting fake Australian accents when overseas.

And the chorus: "yes, we can." On the theological anthropology behind this speech, maybe another post.

unsettled

I've decided there's no sense in pretending I'm any good for academic working today, after getting to bed at about 3:30 a.m. and not getting to sleep until well after that. After getting Clare off to the Children's Garden (warmly bundled, lunch in hand, and bitterly protesting the injustice of it all, for about 30 seconds until I was out of sight when she could buckle down to really enjoying herself) I came back home, popped in a BG and went right back to sleep.

So, HOPE was a great thing to do and I enjoyed myself quite a lot--not something you anticipate about walking around in the cold for hours, attempting to interview people who don't want to be interviewed. Our CCfB team got a bit split up, so I had the privilege of teaming up with a couple who, as it turns out, are not only inspirational themselves in all sorts of ways, but friends-of-friends. So it was a joy to spend a few hours getting to know them while doing something concretely helpful together.

Despite Brent's penchant for anxiety, and the police escort which trailed us (for the first half of the night, anyhow), nothing at all unsettling happened the whole night. Until I got on the train to come home.

As you might imagine, the trains were mostly empty at 2:50 a.m. My car had a couple people sleeping on one end. And a bunch of guys who immediately became very loud when I stepped into the car and sat down, in the middle between them and the sleepers. Despite myself I felt uneasy. I didn't want to, but I did. And they got louder and louder and more flamboyant--cursing, telling lurid stories about girlfriends. And I just sat and tried to control my body language so that a glance at me wouldn't proclaim "scared white lady wants OUT!"

Nothing happened.

One by one they exited the train at various stops, until the last guy came and sat down directly opposite me, right before getting off at 14th St. And then he stood up, walked to the doors right next to me, looked at me and said, "You are beautiful. Just can't get off this train without sayin'." Uh, thanks. Have a good night.

Unsettled. Convicted. Ashamed. Confused.

HOPE

In about an hour, I'm going to dress as warmly as I can and head out the door to PS 261, where I'll meet up with folks from church (and others) for HOPE Count 2008. You can read more about it through the link, but basically, every year NYC does as accurate a count as possible of the homeless in an effort to improve services.

This isn't the first year CCfB has participated in the HOPE count, but last year, as a still-new mom and NJ resident, getting to Brooklyn at 10:30 p.m. and working through the night was not really an option. So this is my first time to do this.

Yeah, I'm nervous. I don't worry about safety (this is a well-organized sort of thing). My nervousness is more the sort that I get when I have to interact with people in less than well-defined social situations. This nervousness pretty much plagues my existence generally, but it gets acute when I encounter people whose lives engender a feeling of guilt and helplessness in me.

But that's no reason not to do something, really the opposite--a reason to do it. Fear of the other, the stranger, the alien...this is only countered by coming face to face.

more on universalism

This past Thursday I got to lead the follow-up discussion on universalism on Thursday night--the follow-up on universalism & the Bible. I wish I'd done a better job, since I always get rambly and too talkative when it comes to hermeneutics. It's not really my bag, and while you'd think that would make me talk less rather than more--well, it makes me nervous, and Nervous JTB talks a lot more than Normal JTB. So, it wasn't as good as I'd hoped, on my end anyway; but some good things got said (by everyone else).

Anyhow, since the topic was really more the biblical witness and whether/how universalism comes out of that, the direction my thoughts have been going lately wasn't quite right for the discussion. I'm satisfied with acknowledging the fact of biblical plurivocality and the burden of conscious, responsible interpretive judgment that places on anyone who dares pick up the Bible and read it. As I confessed on Thursday (and have on this blog before), there are times when the early childhood spiritual formation kicks in (right around the gut area) and I think, Oh God, am I going to hell for this? But even as I work out my hermeneutic in fear and trembling I know there's no other way to do it; if you're not reading the Bible and doing your damnedest to understand it, in fear and trembling, then whatever you've got in your hands is not God's word...no matter what the leatherbound cover says.

One question I took with me from Joe's first sermon on the topic was, what constitutes the difference, categorically, between inclusivism and universalism? Because it seems to me that, if you're willing to consider that people outside the few (elect?) who explicitly believe in Jesus Christ can be saved through Jesus anyway, how would that not run inevitably to universalism? So in pondering these theological categories what I realized was this. Exclusivists exclude on the basis of belief in right doctrine. If you don't believe, you aren't saved. (And of course, as we all know, there's the inevitable reductio ad absurdum inherent in this way of thinking, leading to the kind of sectarianism that refuses to recognize Christ might save anyone who doesn't do X, Y, Z exactly the way we do.) But if inclusivists reject explicit belief as the criterion, on what basis would people not be saved? Looking at inclusivism I realized that inclusivists, too, require that people merit salvation somehow--not by having the right belief, but by measuring up in some other way, usually cashed out in terms of moral behavior or moral character. Those who are saved by Christ, despite their non-belief, are the good pagans, the ones who somehow figured out how to live out the Christian life despite the handicap of not being Christian.

Now, sure, this is an improvement on a steadfast refusal to recognize that non-Christian people can ever be moral or good (a position I have heard sincerely advocated in the past). But still, what we have is a doctrinal position which requires people to merit salvation.

And we know that's wrong, right? I mean, our stubbornly plurivocal uncooperative biblical text does seem pretty clear that--no matter what else you hold regarding salvation--that human beings do not do anything which merits it and obligates God to save them. So why is it that options 1 and 2 are built around implicit convictions that it all hangs on what we believe or do?

Coming to it this way, it seems obvious to me that as long as we accept that the proposition that human beings do not merit salvation is biblical (note that I have not made a textual argument for this, see I told you, this is not my bag. You biblical scholars out there, feel free to construct it or challenge it), then both exclusivism and inclusivism (which I think we should call "soft exclusivism") are revealed as "unbiblical," because they implicitly teach that human beings merit salvation (or don't).

***

Anyhow, there are couple of good recent reflections on universalism by some others to send you to: Casey's Communion reflection here, and Feminarian's latest post here. (And of course, if you're looking to really buckle down, Dr. Beck's series of posts here.)

sad

Tuesday night, my sister called. Wednesday when I checked my email, my mom had emailed. Wednesday night, I sat with two dear friends and talked about it, trying to discern what was so sad--amidst more immediate and personal sorrows--about the death of a person that we never knew. I'm still not sure, but the fact is, we're all sad.

And while there are those who will exploit the human temptation to voyeurism and hysteria, and make the profession of sorrow from all of us so remotely connected (or totally unconnected) burdensome and suspect to those who personally grieve...the fact remains that we are all truly sad. It's a strange thing to grieve for people you don't know, not least because the best way to express it is in keeping a respectful distance.

technology's Janus face

Turning off Dora today after getting Clare to the Children's Garden, caught a bit of C-Span's retrospective/re-enaction on abortion debate. The National Right to Life Committee Congregational Liaison and NOW President were going at it. And apparently on the agenda for the Right to life Committee is to push for legislation requiring women to view an ultrasound before granting access to an abortion: the Ultrasound Informed Consent Act.

I've blogged about this proposal before. What strikes me today, however, is how useful technology is rhetorically. Technology is often demonized--in fact, I heard it demonized (abortions are murder, they have the technology to dismember the baby in the womb, you can see it happen on the Internet) right before Technology became the Moral Savior of Misguided Women Seeking Abortions...through the ultrasound.

I've read some stuff here and there about how the introduction of the ultrasound changed how women experience pregnancy and the reality of their baby. Women didn't use to rely on this technology to make their baby seem real to them. It used to be the result of the cues of their body: the subtle changes, the obvious changes, and of course, quickening. But now technology mediates this experience for us, not just in an additional way, but (it seems) in an increasingly definitive way...so much so that right to life advocates are banking on the moral impact of an image on a screen. Morality Check, brought to you by technology.

Or, as the NOW pres pointed out, requiring a woman to view an ultrasound hikes the price of the procedure to double or more...making abortions out of reach for those who are most desperate.

shameless

Now, I know that I created a whole separate blog for Clare just so that rude truth wouldn't get totally overrun with cute baby stuff.

But I can't help post this on here too. So sue me.

universalism

CCfB's in the middle of a sermon series on universalism. As Joe explains it, he got caught slipping a subversive little paragraph into one of his Advent sermons and the result, a three week sermon series to explain himself. We're also taking a break from our Luke study on Thursday nights for follow-up discussion on the topic.

Last night, discussion was rich and intelligent and the best kind of theology--collaborative, sincere, and systematic. We started with this question of soteriology, and from there, noted connections to theology/Christology, atonement, hermeneutics, pluralism.

After some open discussion where we all tossed out what we'd been thinking on since Sunday's sermon, Joe pointed us toward this post from Experimental Theology.

I often try to keep my mouth shut in these discussion because the things I notice, as a trained theologian, are idiosyncratic and therefore distracting and generally unhelpful in moving the discussion in a generative direction. So here's the grab-bag of thoughts I didn't express in our discussion, because more important stuff was being said.

Talbott's "logical problem of soteriology" (my label), as Beck summarizes it, is exactly parallel to the basic logical problem of evil; it's simply the soteriological-specific form of it. Thus:
1. God's redemptive love extends to all human sinners equally in the sense that he sincerely wills or desires the redemption of each one of them=God is good.
2. Because no one can finally defeat God's redemptive love or resist it forever, God will triumph in the end and successfully accomplish the redemption of everyone whose redemption he sincerely wills or desires=God is all-powerful.
3. Some human sinners will never be redeemed but will instead be separated from God forever=evil exists.

Talbott's analysis (again, acc. to Beck) claims that any two of the three can be logically consistent but not all three together; again, classic form of the logical problem of evil dilemma. Talbott's universalist resolution rejects (3); he is denying that (this specific soteriological) evil exists. What this says regarding Talbott's theological tendencies regarding the problem of evil, I've no idea. Probably nothing. But I find the parallel intriguing. But I'm theologically uneasy with denying that evil exists as a solution to the problem of evil--does this mean I should also feel uneasy with Talbott's universalism?

Other random thoughts: regardless of whether one is Arminian or Calvinist, exclusivist views of salvation produce uneasiness and fear because of inevitable human epistemological uncertainty. We desire certainty; but we are perpetually uncertain if we have really completely chosen God (Arminian), or if God has chosen us (Calvinist). So we fear...because we can't be sure that we're not one of those unfortunate damned.

Evangelistic fervor. We think this is the result of an exclusivist's enthusiasm to reduce the number of lost souls in the world. But in thinking of my own experience in the church and on the "mission field," I think it's the other way around. I love this quote from RAH: "Never seek to persuade for the pleasure of having another share your views" (Moon is a Harsh Mistress). I think that describes exactly what most evangelistic fervor is about: seeking to persuade for the joy of having someone else agree with us. And our doctrine follows our inward motivation--we give ourselves a doctrinal reason for doing what we want to do, go out and make people like ourselves. Because we like people who are like us. We want to make more of them. It certainly explains why house churches in China were little homemade replicas of CofCs in middle TN.