Showing posts with label Church. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Church. Show all posts

Thursday, September 20, 2012

The Spirit of Christmas Craft

Unlike Ebeneezer Scrooge, I don't have Christmas Future, Christmas Present, and Christmas Past coming to visit me over the course of one night. Nope, I have Christmas Craft, and I think she's decided to invite herself to stay for a few months.

After breaking back into the whole palaver of crafting yesterday when I started that glittery Christmas hymn bauble, I - of course - started browsing Teh Interwebz for ideas in my spare time and came across this wreath. I love wreaths, and this one seemed particularly easy...especially since there are tonnes of willows along the canal where I usually walk.

via, Creating a Family Home
So, I loaded E up in his pushchair, snagged my kitchen sheers, and set off on a walk to gather a few willow branches to make myself a wreath. I already have my Gisela Graham heart-shaped Shaker wreath on the living room door, so this one would go on the kitchen door just opposite. Once we got home and E was down for his nap, I got to work.

my wreath is taking shape
I took the advice of the blog where I found my inspiration and pre-bend some of the larger branches to make them more compliant. Once the wreath started taking shape, I also made sure - not only to wrap new branches around the existing frame - but to weave the beginnings and ends into the branches that were already there. That way, everything stayed put.


The best part about this whole project? It was not only spur-of-the-moment, but it was free! Even when I decided that I wanted some nice ribbon to hang it with and decided to glue a few pine cones on: I already had those things lying around from other crafts. (Though I think I'll glue on a few more pine cones later now that I'm getting used to the look of it.


Don't get me wrong; this bare willow wreath has a lovely look to it, but I did want to see how the pine cones spruced it up (oh yes, the lame puns abound). All things considered, since this was free and easy, I think I'll try making another larger one at some point in the future. Maybe spray paint it? Maybe just stick on a few Gisela Graham natural feather birds when I go back to Garson's in October? The possibilities are endless here!


I think something like this will be in order...a good 18-24" in diameter...
via, Christmas Wreaths Direct

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Feeling Crafty

Considering how brisk and autumnal it was today, it felt right to get back into my Christmas hype a little. Don't worry, I'm not clicking through my Christmas playlist yet, but since I'm organising a craft workshop over the next two months, I had to start researching the Christmas craft I'm going to teach, as well as getting to work on a prototype. What did I decide on? Why these little beauties, of course.

via, Flea Market Style
Yes, I technically already had 5 that I'd finished with a literary theme, but I figured I could improve on those to make them more time-constraint-friendly since I'll be teaching this in about a 45-minute window to a group of ladies. Plus, I wasn't as enamored of the silver glitter spray as I had been, so after a trip to the craft store today, I thought that testing out coarse and fine embossing glitter in mod podge would be a good idea.

Consensus? It looks much closer to the baubles in the photo. That combination of fine and coarse iridescent glitter really does make a world of difference. I even got 5 metres of the nice brown-rope string she's used in the picture. Of course, my decoupaging could still use some work - my bauble is nowhere near as smooth and sleek as those ones - but it's getting better, and with another practise or two I'll have it down. (And if that means I have to hang a few more ornaments on my tree, that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make!)

My version of vintage paper came from a book again. Since this project is for Relief Society, we'll end up using paper with the Christmas story from the Gospel of Luke printed on it. I snagged a £1 hymnal and ripped out all of the Christmas hymns for my prototype. While it's awesome, and reminds you of all the great Christmas hymns when you look at it, I have been singing random snatches of "Once in Royal David's City" and "In the Bleak Midwinter" all day.

much better than before
Of course, goodness knows what will happen when I move on to testing out my next Pinterest-inspired prototype. Lots of pins have suggested getting cheap Dollar Store mugs or cheap ceramic plates, drawing or writing on them with Sharpie marker, and then baking them in the oven to set the writing permanently.

My activities committee agreed with me that this would be a fun craft to do - especially because the end result is beautiful and useful: the epitome of a good idea. Though since none of us knew for a certainty that the idea would actually work, it's up to me to test that one out as well.

via, the Phobia

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Nothing More Than A Trifle

Oh yes; the lame puns abound. So tonight is the cookout I've organised for the Relief Society. This means several things: running to Sainsbury's last-minute to grab paper plates, pulling the necessary supplies from the heap of stuff I was given the other weekend, and making that layered salad I found on Teh Interwebz and pinned to my Pinterest board. Never let it be said that I just pin idly - oh no! - I actually do the cute crafts and bake the cute recipes I hoard on my pinboards. It makes the whole thing seem less frivolous when I actually use it in real life.

So the recipe I'd found was this one from The Pioneer Woman blog. I'm not gonna lie: hers looks far and away prettier than mine does. No surprises there. That's just how these things work. However, I did take her tip that the layers show up best when you concentrate stuff at the sides of your dish/bowl. What a useful tool Teh Interwebz is: I just wanted to find a nice way to use my trifle dish!

via, The Pioneer Woman
Now let's be honest: salad isn't difficult to make. You throw a few healthy-looking things into a bowl and cover it in dressing. Problem solved. Salad accomplished. That said, since I'm bringing this sucker - and thus, I'll be taking away any leftovers - I wanted it to be the sort of salad I would actually eat...and I'm a shameful vegetable snob. I don't like courgettes (zucchini), or aubergines (eggplants), or tomatoes (at least, not in raw things), or spinach, or kale, or cauliflower, or broccoli (well...sometimes it's alright), or parsnips, or beets, or cabbage of any description. Oh, and though they're not a veg, mushrooms are vile. I'm just laying all my cards on the table here. However, despite my apparently unilateral hatred of this segment of the food pyramid, I like salads. About 80% of my dinners in my senior year of college were salads that I put together in the cafeteria and took back to my room to consume over reruns of House and some light reading on the Reconquista and the Inquisition. And so, without further ado: my version of the Pioneer Woman's layered salad:

behold, your tasty ingredients; thoughtfully prepared in advance.


And there you have it. Now all I have to do is get this, napkins, plates, cutlery, a few 2-litres of lemonade, and Ethan all safely transported in my car. Oh, did I mention I'm driving to Reading and back first to drop off the Husband so he can help with boys' camp? Yeah: tonight is going to be fun. Once we've survived, I'll let you know, because tomorrow we're off to attend Ethan's first birthday party for a friend. This reminds me of the weeks I have to get my act together and put together a little something, party-wise. Not that Ethan will care, so long as he gets some ice cream. I love a guy who's easy to please.

Saturday, July 7, 2012

...That Wasn't So Bad (or, The God of Cakes)

Update: I've totally decided to include this in the Pinterest Challenge over at Young House Love and a few other blogs. Check out their projects here (YHL), here (Bower Power), here (Centsational Girl), and here (Ten June).



It's always a good day when I (take the time to plan out what I'm doing and) actually implement one of my Pinterest ideas. As I've been mentioning without subtlety for a while now, the ward (read: Mormon congregation) Munch-and-Mingle is tomorrow, and Yours Truly was the genius who signed up to bring a cake. Considering that every cake I've made in my entire life has been of this variety...


...my genius idea wasn't so much MENSA-worthy as, well...this:
via: KnowYourMeme
Yeah. I might have over-reached myself here. Of course, in my moment of apparent hubris, Pinterest was there - like any irresponsible but well-intentioned friend - emptying a bottle of lighter fluid on the flames.

via: Unusual 2 Tasty
Oh yeah: this baby was the cake of choice. I was going to make this sucker. Never mind that my "practise run" red ombre cake turned out to be as shamefully mediocre as it did; I was still determined to make this cake. I went to the blog where the recipe was featured, undaunted by the mention of mixing flour, and buttermilk, and shortening, and sugar, and baking soda, and baking powder, and salt, and almond extract, and vanilla extract, and egg whites (oh no, not whole eggs: just the whites). Who cares that all my cakes (like all of my brownies before this proud moment) were the result of five minutes with Betty Crocker, a few eggs, a little water and oil? I was still going to bake this cake - and make the frosting - all with no mixes whatsoever. Let's get this party started.

Excuse me, while I climb the clothes horse...
 I followed the blog's instructions...mostly. I confess, I didn't feel like running back out to get almond extract, so I just dumped in a few heaped tablespoons of the ground almonds I had lying around from my love affair with Nigella's flourless brownies. Now, there were some moments before the buttermilk and egg whites were added that this was looking more like stiff cookie dough than cake batter, but it got there in the end with some persistent application of the hand mixer. (Or as we childishly call it, the vzz vzz.) Once my cake batter was all mixed together, it was on to the dyeing.

The stages of my cake-dyeing experiment. A pretty successful outcome.
1) Add some food dye.
2) Realise that what should be a patriotic red and blue are actually colours better suited to a baby shower.
3) Add some more food dye. Stir. Wait...add some more.
4) Decide that the amount of food dye you're adding is getting creepily inappropriate somehow and just bung it into greased tins and into the oven.
5) Bake for 30 minutes, remove from oven, and realise you did a decent job after all.
6) despair at the number of dishes you now have to clean.

We have a long way to go, yet.
Oh yeah: because not only were there 3 bowls of cake batter, but two measuring cups, a Pyrex measuring jug, a knife, that thingie for cutting in butter when you make pastry whose name I don't remember, the beaters from the vzz vzz, a whisk, a ladle, and a spatula. Oh, and one of the cake tins, because I only have two and this recipe required three. And just to continue proving that I'm most definitely not one of those picture-perfect bloggers, I'd left the rest of my kitchen in a hot mess, too...

Here's where I admit that this is the cleaned-up version of my mess.
So, with all three cake layers baked, I threw them into the fridge to chill (for easier frosting) while I put together my cream cheese frosting. This, I figured, would be the easy part.
The basic recipe which I used is also on my Pinterest board, I Should Cook This..., I just substituted some of the cream cheese for some butter to make it more like a cake frosting and less like a cinnamon bun icing. Oh, and I think I forgot half a cup of icing sugar, too. Oops. Anyway, as you can see in my third slide, the frosting whipped up nicely and worked a treat.

just in case it was a bit small before.
So now, frosting ready, cake chilled, it was time to put my masterpiece together. Well...not before licking some of the frosting off the beaters. That's the best part.

Mmm, tasty. He'll eat the frosting, but he doesn't like the cake. Strange boy...
I levelled off each layer as I stacked them up. The middle white layer had stuck a bit to its tin in a less horrific version of my earlier faux-pas with the ombre cake. That was easily remedied by putting the broken side face-down and then proceeding as normal. This cake was coming along well: very few hiccups, and they'd all been minor. I'd even gotten 80% of the work done during Ethan's nap: this was a cake-baking Mummy's dream.
carefully stacking my cake
All stacked up, I was ready to frost the outside of the cake. A word to the wise; I don't recommend trying this with a normal rubber spatula. It's a bit fiddly at the best of times and it doesn't give you the crisp, clean, even look that people are usually going for when they frost a cake. Get a flexible metal frosting spatula...that's the way to go. (It's also the next thing on my, What Is My Kitchen Missing list.)


Nonetheless, things moved along alright. I tended to follow two rules:
1) Use way more frosting than you think you need. It helps avoid bald spots
2) Only smooth in one direction so you don't pick up crumbs.
I think my two rules worked pretty well:


Complete at last, I set my masterpiece safely in the fridge to rest and wait for its unveiling on the morrow. It was quite unassuming all frosted and concealing its (hopefully) gorgeous inner layers. In the meantime, while I was dying to see how well my cake baby had turned out on the inside, my actual baby was going crazy with his daddy in the hallway doing some marathon crawling (all documented for posterity, of course).

Rawr!
Finally, the Husband convinced me to give in to my need to photograph everything. I pulled the cake from its save haven in the fridge and cut out a slice: just to see, just to make sure, just to take a pretty picture before I bring it to church tomorrow, and then I'd put it back; honest.

You guys: it's beautiful.

hello, Gorgeous.

Look at those pristine layers.

This cake is boss. It is a cake boss.
I had done it. I successfully recreated one of my domestic dreams from Pinterest. I felt like a champ. This cake was a work of sublime beauty, and I was its creator: I was the god of cakes. Look on, mere mortals, at my whisk that glimmers like gold in the setting sun; the strings of my apron fluttering majestically in my wake as I bake cakes from scratch with impunity.

Needless to say - as my lack of any sense of seemly modesty implies - I felt pretty damn good about myself after that. When it comes to the culinary arts, it turns out a childhood aversion is not indicative of a life soon to be spent eating ramen noodles and Pillsbury cookie dough from a pop-tin. Hey; if I can learn to cook and bake, there's hope for us all.

Monday, July 2, 2012

Play Group and the Queen of Cake Crises

This morning I decided that today would be a day of firsts. Our 1st first? Going to a play group for 6-12-month-old babies. There's a children's centre just across the street from us where we took our antenatal classes and where I occasionally take Ethan to be weighed. They also, amongst other things, run play groups for kids from pretty much birth up through 2 years or so. It's a pretty neat system, really; though I'll admit as I recall from the literature, they're a bit authoritarian about what sorts of snacks you can bring for your kid.

So, assuming from the handout I had that you could just swing on by any time in the two hour time slot, I got Ethan up from his nap a little early and headed over to check out the last 40 minutes of play group to see if it was his sort of jam. I feel like at 8 months old, it's about time Ethan started learning to play with other kids more often than just seeing his cousin once a fortnight.

Of course, once I got there I was still allowed in, but I learned some very important things:
1) You have to sign up for this play group. Holy exclusivity, Batman!
2) There is a waiting list for this play group.
3) The first rule of play group is: you don't talk about the play group. (Only kidding...but that's what this felt like!)
4) If you show up more than half an hour late, the cranky receptionist gives you the stink-eye and a condescending warning. Do this twice, and they kick you out: end of discussion.

Talk about intimidating you out of even wanting to come! But I figured I need to make an effort for my boy. I can't have him being a social pariah with crippling awkwardness. Granted, I don't think he'll give off the nerdy loner vibe, but I don't want my kid to be a five-year-old Mr. Darcy when he goes to Kindergarten! So, having signed up for the waiting list, we went back to the room where play group was being held.

Making friends during the last activity!
While no one was super welcoming, all the mums I spoke to took to Ethan straight away and were willing to chat about their own kids a bit as well. Those blue eyes, man; they even help me make friends, and they're not even my eyes! He loved holding my hands to run around the room and playing with some of the fabric books that were out. When snack time came, he wasn't too keen on the Clementine pieces and apple slices on offer, but he stood at the table quite happily and played with the other babies' moms. Yup: Mr. Little-Old-Lady-Charmer went straight for the older women. He mostly ignored the other kids. Granted, the baby in the above picture seemed to make an impact, but I think that was proximity more than anything. Oh well...he'll learn.

The other first today was one for me: baking an ombre cake. Yeah, I decided to get on the trendy Pinterest-obsessed bandwagon and try one of these.

via: Eddie Ross blog
Don't ask me what possessed me to do this...I'm still wondering that myself. I went to the store and got a cake mix and some food dye (hey, with only E's nap time to finish this and blog about it, I needed to choose efficiency over everything else), along with the ingredients for a nice cream cheese frosting. I know I said that "efficiency" was the word of the day, but I'm a frosting snob. Most cakes have too much frosting and what's on there is way too sweet. I wanted something with a little tang to it that would compliment a sweet cake.

First problem? I had only one egg of the 3 I needed. Oops. Solution? Replace 2 eggs with golden syrup in egg-sized spoonfuls. Crisis averted, I quartered my mix and added the red food dye in sufficient quantities. With a little tweeking, I had the vague sort of fading effect I was after.

Not entirely what I need, but pretty close
Brilliant. Time to put the layers in the oven 2 at a time (since I only have two cake tins). I even remembered to half the baking time since I'd halved the size of the layers. Smooth sailing right? Nope. Crisis Numero Dos: I neglected to read the instruction that said to grease my cake tins. Result? When the first two layers came out, they promptly crumbled to bits.

Huzzah. I was nearly ready to chuck it all in by this point, when I came upon Solution Number Two: I snagged two plates and re-formed my crumbling cake mess into two approximately 9" layers. I bunged them in the freezer to set so I could frost everything without ripping it to even smaller shreds. Lesson learned, I greased my pans the second time around and got mostly intact layers with minimal crumbling.

This looks creepily like raw ground beef...
Whew! Now: on to the frosting! I edited the recipe from the above page just a tiny bit to make sure it was more of a cake frosting and less of a cinnamon bun icing. There are worlds of difference between the two, and I definitely wanted a light, buttercream-like texture to my frosting.


via: Not So Humble Pie

Basically: 5 oz cream cheese; 3 oz softened butter; 1 tsp vanilla extract; 3/4 cup icing sugar; 100ml chilled double cream. Whip these all up and you get what I got...though perhaps for next time I'll try to get it a bit fluffier.

I pulled my chilled cake layers from the freezer and got to work. Turns out, chilling the cake was the way to go: I only had minimal crumb contamination in my frosting, even on the smooshed-together layers. Keeping the frosting at room temperature helped, too: it's easier to spread that way.

We're getting there...
Once it was all put together, this is what I got:

Meh.
I'll be the first person to say it: this thing ain't very pretty. But I give it full marks for taste. The frosting turned out just right, and the cake mix was fine...though perhaps I'll add a bit of lemon next time to spice things up a bit. Hey: for a test run, this didn't go too badly. It's times like this when I appreciate church for making me get round to crafty projects I might not otherwise find the excuse to accomplish.

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Stuff Wot Makes Me Happy

There are lots of things that make me happy. These are just a few that I thought of whilst lounging around on a Sunday afternoon...

Ethan's new toy: a rattling lion from Mamas & Papas.
This is just cute to me. And of all the toys in the store, it's the one E picked out himself.

A free Sephora make-up bag.
True: I already have a make-up bag that I bought four years ago in Camden. (And holy cow does it feel weird to think that my semester abroad junior year was now four years ago!) But when I bought some lovely red lipstick at Sephora while we were visiting my dad and step-mom, I got this bag for free and I really like the bold black and white pattern. I sort of want to use it as a clutch for snazzy dates. You know, the kind where we actually get a babysitter and I shave my legs and put a dress on. We really need to have one of those dates.

The perfect shade of grey paint.
I know I already told you about when I decided to paint my front hallway, but I just can't get over how awesome Valspar's Number 10 looks every time I go in or out of our front door. Sadly, it has yet to photograph right, so I've hunted down a better shot of the colour on Valspar's UK website. Even then, the image does this colour no justice. It's a gorgeous sort slate grey with dusty blue hints to it. Very dignified and clean-looking for a grey: not at all muddy or dirty or smokey or anything.

Perhaps it'll photograph better in another room. I'm considering having an accent wall in the bedroom, and I may carry this colour through from the hallway. I mean, even the Husband commented several times on how much he liked it.

The way babies sleep.
I love how Ethan sleeps. He throws his body in all directions with what looks like wild abandon: back arched, head back, occasionally arms splayed out to the sides or thrown up onto his pillow so that they surround his big baby head like a set of parentheses. I especially like it when he sleeps in my arms with his head cradled against my chest or my shoulder. He rests his fat little hand on my collarbone and it melts my heart. I know I'm biased because he's my son, but he's so freaking adorable!

Bright red nail polish.
I'm not much of one for bright red on my fingernails, but my toenails are an entirely different matter. I think they look brilliant with a coat of fire-engine red. (Or, as this Rimmel is so aptly named, double decker bus) No matter what I have on, the red nails go with pretty much everything. Plus, nicely painted nails make it less of a hardship to look at my freakishly stunted toes. (I'm not joking; my toes are ridiculously short. For years I just thought everyone else had creepy monkey toes...nope: I'm the weird one.)

Another thing that makes me happy is baking, and with a Munch & Mingle after church on the 15th, I get to do exactly that. I volunteered today to make a cake to bring along, so not only do I get to bake something fun (Pinterest, here I come!), but I get to break out my beautiful glass cake stand. It was a wedding present that I've made far too little use of. But you just wait, I'm having babies now, so soon there will be cause for birthday cakes to be made so they can be eaten at birthday parties. Sure, it's been literally half my life since I was seriously invested in developing this particular talent, but I'm going to decorate cakes like a boss. For realsies. For my first effort? Something out of an Eric Carle book...obviously.

Creepy marshmallow frosting aside, this baby is my current cake of choice for the 15th.

Saturday, March 10, 2012

I Don't Think That Means What You Think It Means

This just in: I have a sleeping baby! That means I have a few moments to myself this morning as Sebastian is off at the office for a bit, and rather than going back to sleep right away (which was my original plan for this time, I must confess), I decided to catch up on some blog-reading and blog-writing. Oh...and this post I've been mulling over is entirely off the topic of baby things.

I am a historian. I may not be employed at the moment, but it's what I studied to do, and I think I did pretty well at it, all things considered. Really, E is most of the reason I'm not still in school, working on a PhD and teaching classes at a university right now. So anyway, considering that History as an academic discipline is something I've spent 5 years of my life getting qualified to do and talk about, I've got some opinions about it. I have my own ideas - shaped, of course, by my experience in academia - about what history is as a discipline, about what the term means, and what it doesn't mean.


So where am I going with this? Well, as I briefly mentioned in another post, we finally got door-knocked by some Jehovah's Witnesses the other week and had them round to our place on Saturday (last week) to let them have a chat. This was not a Bible-bashing session, nor was it an attempt to make the JWs look bad. I quite liked the mom and son who came to talk at Seb's invite: they were nice people. But, I do have one criticism I'd like to level. I'll be honest and fair: the criticism I have isn't specific to Sue, the lovely Witness who came to see us, but she reminded me of it, and it's a particular bee under my bonnet. Actually, I had a very similar discussion with missionaries from our own church just the other week when we had them round for dinner.

My problem is this: when Christians of any stripe try to defend the Bible (or when Latter-Day Saints defend the Book of Mormon) by calling it a "historical document." This is where I break out my Inigo Montoya Princess Bride reference. That word does not mean what many religious people seem to think it means. It's like we've set up the god of History whose only aim is to support the veracity of our traditions about the God of Israel. Mmm...not so much.

In instances like this, people seem to take the moniker "historical" like it means "irrefutable" or "uncorrupted". As if, to call something a "historical document" means that it is a perfectly accurate representation of the world as it was, with no mistakes, biases, or extrapolations. This pathetic definition could not be more wrong.

First: everything is a historical document - at least in theory. From your mom's journal to the Magna Carta and everything in between. If a document is written to capture the story of one real person, or can be used to reconstruct certain elements of a by-gone era, then it can be a historical document. The Magna Carta can tell us about medieval English law; your mom's journal could tell you about how she coped with you as an annoying eight-year-old; the Bible can tell us what pre-Christian Jews thought about themselves, their neighbours, and their god. For that matter, the receipt in my purse from the other month can give a glimpse of what my usual weekly expenditure on groceries is and that could be a historical document if it helps to piece together a picture of life in southern England for newlyweds in the early 21st century. For heaven's sake, I did my dissertation using fashion magazines and business cards from Georgian England: ephemera are historical documents just as much as charters, court transcripts, treaties, or scriptures. So on this basis alone, calling the Bible a "historical document" is like calling a sparrow a bird. Well, obviously.

Second: everyone has an agenda. Let's stop being naive and admit that not everyone writes something down with the lofty vision of generations to come reading their work and thinking, "wow; I never knew things were like that back then. Thank goodness someone wrote it all down accurately so that I could correct my mistaken impressions." That's not how it works. If you write something down, you usually have a reason for doing so. Maybe you wrote that passive aggressive note to vent your frustration at the roommate who 'never' replaces the toilet paper roll he finishes. Perhaps that painting was meant to make Napoleon look a little less like a ragged hobo and more like a debonair conqueror when he was crossing the Alps. (note: it was. I spent a lot of time writing about Delaroche and David's differing images of Napoleon crossing the Alps, and if you Google David's picture, you'll see my point: that is a purposely fictionalised image.) Perhaps that book of scripture was written specifically to convince us of the divinity and Davidic lineage of Jesus.

With my last example: yeah, books in what became the New Testament were written with that specific goal in mind. "Let's make sure we present the case for Jesus as Messiah and Son of God. Let's make sure we stress the ways in which His life fulfills prophecy." Understand that I'm not saying that this automatically makes the document false. What I am saying is that it necessarily means a bias in what information was presented and what information was neglected. It means that there is a slant to the way in which certain information is phrased. Therefore, you can't say that it represents Roman Judea and the people of Jesus' time exactly as they were: every individual will see the world through a different filter, different preconceived notions, and different prejudices. That already puts a skewed perspective on any observations made. It doesn't necessarily mean that their reporting of a given event is inaccurate, but the conclusions they draw from an event will almost always colour the text when they make it a written account of a historical event.

Third: historical documents have room for allegory. If we took the word "historical" to mean "literally true and accurate" then we'd run into loads of problems. Let's look at Homer's Iliad: ever heard of Heinrich Schliemann? He was the guy who took some ancient poetry literally and went on an almost devastatingly inept excavation for the lost city of Troy. Schliemann took this backwards view of a historical document and assumed that it meant that every detail contained in Homer's work was describing actual events, literal places, and real people. Now, whether Homer actually believed that Apollo shot arrows of the plague into the Greek army as they waited to cross the Aegean is beside the point: the fact that the poem was written down can be used in a historical context to give us information about (to name just a few things):
-ancient Greek language
-ancient Greek mythology
-the culture of bards, poets, and song at the time of the Iliad's creation
-the conception of warfare in art
-the romanticising of the past 
See? Just because it's a fictional account doesn't mean that it can't tell us things about archaeologically proven history or history that's corroborated in outside sources.

Want another example? Let's again look at David's Napoleon Crossing the Alps. Let's actually look at it, too:


If we take it literally, this painting is not only useless, but it looks like it defies the laws of physics. Look at that horse! Napoleon's cape is caught in an awkward breeze, he's calmly seated on a rearing mount, he's insanely over-dressed, and he apparently had time to halt the army and do a bit of graffiti, carving his name into the mountain next to Hannibal - who crossed the Alps with elephants - and Charlemagne. Now, if we look at this as a piece of propaganda, we can see that Napoleon and David were constructing an image of a heroic conqueror in a historic line of awesome military men. Napoleon was a poised, dashing, and Classical leader of men. Whether or not he actually was all of these things can be debated: the point is that the painting loses no value as a historical document if we remember that even allegory, exaggeration, or outright lies can tell us just as much about a given circumstance as the truth itself. The key is to remember how a document functions.

The Bible occasionally functions as a history: it gives lineages of individuals, gives a census of the tribes of Israel, and attempts to record how the world got started. It gives law codes and tells the narratives of battles. But it also teaches morality, it very blatantly uses allegory and parable at times. Its goal was not always to simply record events like a post-dated DayPlanner of the Israelite nation! Plus, to riff on Napoleon again, "history is written by the victors." Bias, anyone? If you win a fight, when you tell the story later, won't you make yourself look as good as you can to your audience? If you lose a fight, won't you downplay how bad your shameful ass kicking was? It's not that you're lying outright: if you won, you say so; if you lost, you say so. But, as ever, the devil is in the details.

And so, to my last point: people make mistakes. Lots of mistakes. Memory is faulty. Ever sit in a concert for an artist you really enjoy? You're really getting into the zone, the music is amazing, the performance is flawless, and on the last breathtaking note, you hear that obnoxious Nokia ringtone as someone's phone goes off? You probably said afterwards that the phone ringing ruined the whole concert, right? Well...actually, you were enjoying it until that phone rang and only then was the experience tarnished. The point is we remember things differently to how we experience them. Therefore, in looking back on an event to record it, the way we remember it will be different to how we experienced it. We have to package things up in our minds to process them and make sense of them in the larger narrative of our lives. (Or the larger narrative of the record we're keeping) So once again, error creeps in. 

My overall point, then? The word "historical" is not a substitute for saying "archaeologically-proven", "unbiased", "inerrant", or "literally true". We always have to consider several things when looking at a document from the angle of interpreting, clarifying, or describing history:
- Who wrote/made/painted this?
- Why did they write/make/paint this?
- Who was the intended audience?
- What is the author's background?
- What would the audience already understand when seeing this?

And that, of course, is just the beginning. I'm clambering off the soapbox now...it's time to nap alongside E before the day gets too far gone.

Friday, May 27, 2011

To Nurture and Preside

To be perfectly frank, there's not much I can add to this BCC post...but I think I will anyway.

I can completely understand why people (especially strong and capable women) in the church take issue with the language we frequently use that states that the father and husband should preside in the home. If the majority of the examples of men presiding that we see week to week are men sitting on the stand doing their best to not fall asleep give an example of reverence while their wives wrestle a gaggle of unruly children with no help from the only other person with equal responsibility for the little hellions, it's no wonder some of us give the concept of a presiding priesthood holder the skeptical side-eye.

I personally completely agree with Norbert (the BCC poster) and his idea that presiding should be something active. I mean, our ward employs small children in pairs for the purpose of standing at the front and giving people an example of what it means to be reverent. If a bishop is meant to take up Peter's charge to "feed my [baby] sheep", that makes him a shepherd. Not The Good Shepherd, but a man meant to help fill those shoes, nonetheless. I don't think most shepherds would see results if they tried to keep their sheep from running away or getting lost or tangled in bushed simply by sitting still and giving the sheep a vaguely preoccupied stare-down from the front of the flock. Some sheep would need to eat, some would just meander away, some would follow rambunctious lambs...basically, a good shepherd actively herds and cares for his sheep.

It's fair, that in the people example of this, you can't force everyone to be reverent and obedient: nor should you! That sort of ham-handed use of authority is insulting and demeaning and makes Baby Jesus sad. But to actively preside - as I see it - should mean being (as the scripture says) anxiously engaged in doing what you can to help people achieve their goals: whether that goal is to become an Eagle Scout, get into a good college, or get five snot-nosed angels to sit down, stop hitting each other, and be reverent for Sacrament meeting. And yes, sometimes the best thing you can do is be a good example - whether it's an example of reverence or an example of "honesty, cleanliness, and knot-tying". (Oh yeah, Clear and Present Danger reference right there) But other times it involves going out and getting things done yourself...because if you're not willing to do something yourself, what right do you really have to tell someone else to do it?

So perhaps rather than nurture and preside, we could come up with a different pair of duties like "encourage and exemplify" or "support and advise" or some other alternative. But then, so long as presiding is an active role rather than a passive one, I don't mind it so much.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Why I Shouldn't Be Allowed to Teach Seminary



It's the last week of the Seminary year and I'm teaching...again. Why can't I just say no? Nancy Regan lied...it's not that easy.

But, in the spirit of end-of-the-school-year fun, We've jazzed up the last few lessons. One category in Seminary Jeopardy was "Prophets' Beards", in which my students had to guess who a given prophet was by only seeing an outline of his facial hair. That round was a big hit. And it made up for the round about the pioneers' trip to Utah, which had lots of hard church history questions in it.

Today's lesson was about my childhood in the church - and of most people of my generation: we talked about Gordon B. Hinckley. He was President of the Church from 1995 to 2008, and while he did lots of amazing and inspiring things, I didn't hold my students' interest with stories of his exploits round the world. Nope: I kept them entertained by putting funny sunglasses on the Apostles.

To be fair, the whole point of the exercise was to see if they could name all 12 Apostles with part of their faces obscured. It was just much more fun to obscure their faces with Kanye West shades.

I think when this gets back to the Bishop, I've officially found a tactful way out of ever being asked to teach Seminary again. Victory!

Personally, seeing Neal A. Maxwell in the Dame Edna shades makes my day...and I can be satisfied that my cheesy gimmick got the kids to pay attention; which is no mean feat at 7:00 in the morning.