Christmas albums, part 1

I guess everyone starts his or her Christmas season at a different time. When I was in Home Depot back in mid-October looking for a nozzle and some fertilizer, I found a full half of their garden section chock-full of Christmas merchandise. Obviously, Christmas had started for them. A local radio station started playing round-the-clock Christmas music on the Monday before Thanksgiving. A little early for my taste, but that’s what they are doing.

In my family, the Christmas season still pretty much starts when we get back from our Thanksgiving weekend. [Which, by the way, was most excellent this year . . . we had a great time with family in Pennsylvania, and my 25-year high school reunion was a blast.] Normally on the ride home, when we are a few hours from arrival, the thoughts start to kick in about how much needs to get done in the coming days and weeks. The feeling is usually reinforced as we enter our neighborhood and observe that apparently everyone else has been home all weekend putting up their lights and decorations. Looks like I’ll be the last one again this year.

Anyway, if you have looked at my profile, you may have noticed that I collect Christmas CDs. I am currently up to over sixty in my collection. Like most folks I really like Christmas music, and a long time ago, I began to amass a few dozen, starting with most of the better known albums out there. But over time, I got more and more intrigued. I began seek out albums by specific artists, novelty acts, and rarities (I admit that I paid forty dollars for one rare Christmas CD a few years back).

My self-imposed rule is that I don’t start listening to my Christmas CDs until the ride home from Thanksgiving weekend. But in recent years that has presented a problem. That is, I am not able to listen to all of the CDs in my collection during the Christmas season. There just isn’t the time. But even though I can’t fit them all in, I still find myself pondering which ones are my favorites—trying to mentally construct my “Top 10” list.

So, I’ve made a decision. This year, I am going to listen through my entire collection. I’ll knock most of them out driving to and from work. And, I am also going to construct and present to you a few lists of my favorites. I think I am going to go with at least: top five novelty albums, top five honorable mention, and top ten best Christmas albums. Based on the thought I’ve given to the subject so far, picking the best albums is going to be an extremely difficult task for me. There are a lot of really good ones.

So anyway, please stand by for parts 2, 3, etc. in this series as I embark on listening to sixty-plus CDs and feeling a whole lot of Christmas cheer!

The glue that holds it all together

What do I especially thank God for this Thanksgiving? Well, let me tell you.

Do the responsibilities and commitments of life sometimes feel like a house of cards? I start feeling that way every November. It seems that one recurring reality of my life is that autumn gets extremely busy. The job. My school work. The boys’ sports activities. Events and responsibilities at church. Kids getting sick. Meetings for this. Meetings for that. By this time of year, I start feeling a little overwhelmed. It seems every second of every day is accounted for, and there seems to be so much I need to accomplish that I just don’t get around to doing.

All of these pressures are perched precariously on top of one another like the proverbial house of cards. It seems that with just one nudge of the table, one gust of wind from an open door— and poof!—the delicately balanced cards will collapse to the ground. During these extremely busy times in life it seems like there is little room for error. One accident, one unplanned event, or one missed responsibility could have a seriously negative domino effect.

But what if that house of cards was glued together? Glued together really well? So well that when the table is nudged, or the wind blows, the house doesn’t fall apart? It doesn’t break. It withstands the strain.

I often refer to my wife as “the glue that holds it all together” in our household. And I’m not exaggerating. (I know it’s not a very romantic analogy, likening my wife to glue. I’ll do better in my Valentine’s Day entry, I promise.) But what I mean is this. There are a thousand, and I mean a thousand, little things that she does that keeps the Quackenblog house of cards standing.

I’m not just talking about cooking, cleaning, and making lunches. She does all that (while holding down a teaching job). But she also takes care of so many things, down to the smallest details of our life that I take for granted. Somehow she knows where everything is supposed to be. Not me. Whenever I empty the dishwasher, I always make a small “I-don’t-know-where-it-goes” pile (endearing, huh?). Somehow she knows where we are all supposed to be (and why). I pretty much forget stuff pertaining to the daily and weekly grind, even when I write it down. But she keeps us all moving in the right direction.

But after she does all of those thousand “little” things, she somehow has the time to spend quality time with me and the boys. She is my closest friend, and I cherish talking to her and confiding in her every day. And I cherish and appreciate the quality time that she spends teaching and raising our boys, setting an example of what a Godly woman is.

The term “Proverbs 31 woman” gets tossed around a lot, but I can’t think of a better description for my wife.

Anyway, thanks to all for reading my blog, and have a safe and wonderful Thanksgiving. I will be goofing off visiting family and going to my reunion this weekend, so I will resume blogging on the Monday-Wednesday-Friday routine on the 30th.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Preparing for my 25-year high school reunion

During the Thanksgiving weekend, my wife and I will be attending my 25-year high school reunion. That’s right, I graduated from good old Hatboro-Horsham High School (Pennsylvania) back in 1984. The picture you see to your right is me on graduation night, June 12th, at the football stadium.

It’s been a while since I have been to one of these events (the last one I attended was my 10-year reunion), and I can remember having a really good time. This year, with the advent of Facebook, I already am aware of a few old friends who are planning to be there. It will be great to see them (and others) and catch up on things.

Naturally, when one goes to a reunion, one wants to put one’s best foot forward. Like most people, I don’t want people to think that I have been unsuccessful in life, and I certainly don’t want anyone to know about any blemishes. So, I have been working on my “talking points” for Friday night. Here’s what I have so far:

1. I can tell people that I am “comfortably retired.” This is a true statement. I retired from the Navy last year. And, I will be wearing a suit and dress shoes that are reasonably comfortable. So, I will not be lying. Nobody has to know that I still have a full-time job, teach part time, am trying to somehow get through years and years of post-graduate school to get on with my life, etc. etc. I’ll just keep it at “comfortably retired,” and if they press the issue, I’ll excuse myself to the buffet.

2. How can I get the message across that I have been a compassionate, caring philanthropist all these years? I’ve got it. I’ll tell people, “I’ve dedicated my life to feeding starving children.” Again, I won’t be lying. They don’t have to know that I am referring to my two sons. Seriously, these boys are always “starving.” When I was a kid I thought “eating us out of house and home” was just a cute expression. Now I’m living the reality.

3. Now on to a touchy subject. What if someone comments that I have put on a few pounds since high school? In that case, I’m going to say, “Well, truth be told, I have lost 150 pounds.” How can they not be impressed? Just thinking of that will make them think I look great! You see, in my adult life, I have gone on a diet at least fifteen times. And I know that in each diet, I have lost at least ten pounds before quitting. So, Voila!, I’ve lost 150 pounds.

4. I could tell people that I am a gold medalist. Don’t believe me? Look closely at the picture above. There I am at graduation, wearing a gold medal. Beats me what it was for—National Honor Society, I would guess. On second thought, this claim might be too tough to defend. Someone is liable to ask what I got the gold medal for. The best response I can come up with is that I got if for being “World’s Best Dad,” but everybody knows the prize for that is a coffee mug, not a gold medal. I’d better scratch this one off the list.

Well, I’ll keep thinking. I still have a few days to develop some more ideas. I am looking forward to having a great time on Friday night. And in the spirit of the occasion, I’ll do a send-off today with my alma mater.

Now here’s to good old Hatboro-Horsham,
Our praise for thee will never lack,
Something something something something,
And rally ‘round the red and black!

(3 out of 4 lines . . . not bad for 25 years later!)

“Express” lanes

As the holiday shopping season descends upon us, I got to thinking about one of my biggest pet peeves. (Yes, I have pet peeves. No, I am not proud of them all.) The pet peeve is this: I can’t stand it when I am in the “express lane” at a store, and someone in front of me has more than the maximum allowable items.

I am one of those people who finds himself discreetly trying to count the number of items that the people in front of me have. And believe me, if anyone is even one item over the limit, I feel that I have the right to be bent out of shape for the remainder of the day.

Now, I suppose there could be debate over what exactly constitutes an “item.” And I have yet to see any instructions at any Wal-Mart or grocery store informing the public of how they define an item. Maybe such instructions are out there, but I have not seen them. The way I account it, generally, is that an item is a self-contained unit. A six-pack of Pepsi is one item. A bag of apples from the produce department is one item. However, six separate cans of Campbell’s Chunky Beef Sirloin soup are six items. I think this is reasonable.

But alas, I am convinced that people will always abuse the system, and get in the “20 items or less” line when they have twenty-six. And I have found that it is not very constructive to say anything about it. I recall a conversation I once had with a check-out lady at Wal-Mart. I had stood in line patiently, and the person directly in front of me had exceeded the limit by at least a dozen items. As I stood waiting, I had the typical battle going on inside my head, which could be depicted by the “Angel Dave” and “Devil Dave” popping up on either side of my head.

Angel Dave: Don’t worry about it, Dave, it will be alright.
Devil Dave: Are you just gonna stand here and let this happen? Say something! Be a man!
Angel Dave: Let it go, let it go. There might be a good explanation for this.
Devil Dave: This happens every time. Stop being taken advantage of, and speak up!
Angel Dave: Be patient, it’s no big deal. Let it go.

But when I got up to the register, it was Devil Dave’s turn. However, I vowed not to be nasty. So when the young lady started ringing up my stuff, I softly said (in the nicest tone possible, I promise), “You know, that person that was in front of me was way over the twenty item limit.”

Her response surprised me. “Yes, I know.”

I thought to myself, “You know? Then why didn’t you do anything about it?” Even at this point “Angel Dave” was telling me to shut up and forget the whole thing. But I continued. Again, in as pleasant a tone as I could muster, I said, “Well, if you knew he was over the limit, why didn’t you say something to him?”

She said, “Oh, I couldn’t do that.”

Now I was curious. After a brief pause, I said, “I’m just curious. Why couldn’t you say something to him? He was way over the limit and the sign clearly says ’20 items or less.’”

She said, “Well, what would I say to him?”

Trying not to sound too sarcastic, I replied, “Well, you could say to him something like, ‘Sir, you have too many items for this lane. I’m going to have to ask you to go to another line.’”

She said, “But then he would have to put all his stuff back in the cart and go to another line.”

My mind processed this for about two-and-a-half seconds. Yes, it would be disruptive and take a little time to turn back the offender. Yes, it might be a little uncomfortable for the Wal-Mart employee to enforce the policy. But I am certainly willing to endure the time it takes if it means that in the long run we rid the world of express lane violators.

I said, “But if you tell him to . . . never mind.”

I realized it wasn’t worth it. She didn’t get it. For a brief moment I thought of the scene from City Slickers (funny movie) where, as they drive the cattle through the plains, Billy Crystal’s character is trying to explain to Daniel Stern’s character how to tape something on a VCR for about the umpteenth time. Bruno Kirby’s character finally can’t take it anymore, and says “Shut up! Just shut up! He doesn't get it! He'll never get it! It's been four hours! The cows can tape something by now!”

“Angel Dave” was right, and I didn’t listen. I am not going to change this egregious affront to society. At least not on my own. So as the holiday season approaches, I pledge to do my best to be patient and understanding to those who for some reason feel that the rules of express lanes do not apply to them.

Thankful “for” and thankful “to”

As Thanksgiving approaches, it is once again time to be especially mindful and thankful for all that we have. Our safety and health. The safety and health of our family. The material blessings that we enjoy. Plenty of food. A job. The list goes on and on, and we are right to be thankful for all that we have. The word “thankful” sort of implies that we have things to be thankful for.

But it seems to me that the word “thankful” also implies that there is someone to be thankful to. If we are merely thankful for something, but not thankful to the one who provides it, then what’s the point in being thankful in the first place? You might as well just save your breath. For instance, it is right for me to be thankful for the clean socks that appear in my drawer every week. But they don’t just materialize out of thin air, nor are they delivered by the sock fairy. I am thankful to my wife for all of the little things she does to take care of me. I am thankful for something, and thankful to someone.

In my view, we all tend to be fairly good at knowing that we should be thankful for our blessings at Thanksgiving. But who are we supposed to be thankful to at Thanksgiving?

To help answer this question, I thought I would re-print the words of someone that I respect a great deal. This is called “Thanksgiving Proclamation.”

Whereas it is the duty of all nations to acknowledge the providence of Almighty God, to obey His will, to be grateful for His benefits, and humbly to implore His protection and favor; and

Whereas both Houses of Congress have, by their joint committee, requested me “to recommend to the people of the United States a day of public thanksgiving and prayer, to be observed by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many and signal favors of Almighty God, especially by affording them an opportunity peaceably to establish a form of government for their safety and happiness”:

Now, therefore, I do recommend and assign Thursday, the 26th day of November next, to be devoted by the people of these States to the service of that great and glorious Being who is the beneficent author of all the good that was, that is, or that will be; that we may then all unite in rendering unto Him our sincere and humble thanks for His kind care and protection of the people of this country previous to their becoming a nation; for the signal and manifold mercies and the favorable interpositions of His providence in the course and conclusion of the late war; for the great degree of tranquility, union, and plenty which we have since enjoyed; for the peaceable and rational manner in which we have been enabled to establish constitutions of government for our safety and happiness, and particularly the national one now lately instituted; for the civil and religious liberty with which we are blessed, and the means we have of acquiring and diffusing useful knowledge; and, in general, for all the great and various favors which He has been pleased to confer upon us.

And also that we may then unite in most humbly offering our prayers and supplications to the great Lord and Ruler of Nations, and beseech Him to pardon our national and other transgressions; to enable us all, whether in public or private stations, to perform our several and relative duties properly and punctually; to render our National Government a blessing to all the people by constantly being a Government of wise, just, and constitutional laws, discreetly and faithfully executed and obeyed; to protect and guide all sovereigns and nations (especially such as have shown kindness to us), and to bless them with good governments, peace, and concord; to promote the knowledge and practice of true religion and virtue, and the increase of science among them and us; and, generally, to grant unto all mankind such a degree of temporal prosperity as He alone knows to be best.

Given under my hand, at the city of New York, the 3rd day of October, A. D. 1789

George Washington

It is my opinion that every American should read this proclamation every year during the Thanksgiving season.

What I want my son to know about sports

Well, sometimes in life things don’t go the way you’d like. On Saturday, my older son, Chad, competed in the Virginia State Cross-Country Championship Meet. His team, Grassfield High School, was one of the best teams in the state this year, and at various times over the course of the season, they had been ranked first or second statewide.

Going into the meet, I was trying to be realistic about my expectations for the team. I fully believed (and still do) that if all of our runners ran their usual good race, we would place at least second or third in the state. If things really clicked, it was within the realm of possibility that we could win it all. The team had looked stellar the week before when they won the Virginia Eastern Regional Championship (the photo you see is Chad with the Regional Championship trophy). But there were two teams from northern Virginia that we knew were very strong and would be tough to beat.

But things did not go well for us. As a team, we did not have our best race. And unfortunately, one of our top runners passed out during the race and dropped out. This hurt our overall score considerably. As I stood in a crowd about twenty yards from the finish line, watching the runners cruise to the end of the race, it was immediately evident that we would not place as high as we wanted. Nevertheless, I felt a pride and satisfaction that is hard to describe when I saw my son cross the finish line in his last high school cross-country race.

The boys were understandably very upset. This meet was the culmination of a significant amount of hard work and dedication for them (and when I say significant, I mean it). And obviously they felt they had not put their best foot forward. Even so, when the final tally came in, Grassfield finished in sixth place in the state. This is higher than most teams from our region normally place, and is not too shabby given that Grassfield High School is only in its third year of existence.

On the three and a half hour ride home, I gave some thought to what had transpired. I hurt for the team, because I know how badly they wanted to win the state championship, or at least finish in the top two or three. I also hurt for them because they finished just one point behind the fifth place team—and the top five teams were recognized at the podium with medals and a trophy. One point shy. Sports can be very cruel sometimes.

I also got to thinking about what it all means in the big picture. I began to ponder what I had learned from playing sports in high school. And though it’s probably no consolation to him right now, I tried to articulate in my mind the things that I would want Chad to know.

First, sports are a gift from God. I know, I know, you can say that about anything in life. But it is also true about sports. God is good to us, and He is gracious. He didn’t have to create a world where we have an endless variety of food, thousands of hobbies and occupations to engage our minds, or sports. God didn’t have to create these things, or give man the capacity to think them up. But He did. Sports provide an avenue for healthy competition, the camaraderie of being on a team, the experience of pushing your body to its limits, the opportunity to deal with the empty feeling of defeat, and to feel the indescribable euphoria of victory. Competing in sports adds richness to life.

Second, sports prepare you for life. I can remember in my early twenties, as a young Naval officer, being in some pretty challenging and nerve-racking situations on the bridge of a U. S. Navy ship. It was during some of those harrowing situations that I remember telling myself, “Hey, you made it through all of those grueling wrestling practices, you made it through those cross-country races in complete agony . . . you can do this.” Cross-country and track have pushed Chad to a level of self-discipline, dedication, and mental toughness that I doubt he knew he had. I know that this will help him immensely in handling “life” and helping him to persevere when demanding situations arise.

Third, as with so many things in life, it is the relationships that count. He (and the team) may not realize it right now, but the bitterness of Saturday’s results will abate. Twenty years from now, he will think back and say, “That was really disappointing that we didn’t do better at states back in 2009.” But what he will remember more vividly are the fun bus rides to the meets, the pasta dinners the night before every race, and most importantly the lasting friendships that he made. One thing that impressed me more than anything else was the chemistry and close friendships on the Grassfield cross-country team over the past three years. This was a tight group. The kids really like each other. I know that all of those good friends, and good times, will be things that Chad treasures for a lifetime.

How many sportscasters does it take to change a light bulb?

Okay, at the risk of beating a dead horse . . . I’ll share this, and then I’ll shut up about the subject for a good while. I promise. I just thought this was funny.

Every year our Sunday School class does an outing to the local Cinema Café to watch Monday Night Football on the big screen. It’s a lot of fun to get together, eat some food that is not-so-good for you, socialize, and yell for whichever team you want. But you have to get there early—the theater fills up quickly.

Well, since we got there early, I saw (off and on) about forty-five minutes of ESPN’s “Monday Night Countdown” (it runs for an hour and a half in all). I typically don’t watch Monday Night Football anymore, let alone the pre-game coverage. After a bit, what really caught my attention was that every time I looked at the big screen of the theater, there seemed to be a different group of commentators breaking down the big game for us. So I decided to count them.

First, there was the team at the ESPN studios in Connecticut. They gave us that perfect blend of technical minutiae and mindless trivia, from how Denver uses the split-nickel-blitz-zone-double-deep pass coverage, to how Pittsburgh’s Ben Roethlisberger chose his uniform number. They are:

1. Chris Berman
2. Tom Jackson
3. Mike Ditka
4. Keyshawn Johnson
5. Cris Carter (yes, he spells it “Cris”)

Then, coverage was handed off to another team, seated at a carefully constructed broadcast area somewhere on the floor of Invesco Field in Denver. I’m not sure how their purpose was any different from the guys in the studio. They are:

6. Stuart Scott
7. Matt Millen
8. Steve Young

From there, we were sent up to the broadcast booth for a few words of greeting, stage-setting, and brief analysis from the play-by-play announcers:

9. Mike Tirico
10. Ron Jaworski
11. Jon Gruden

Then it was back to the ESPN studios for more banter. Staying in the studio, Berman kicked us over to a pair of analysts. I couldn’t really tell, but it seemed they were either providing some further vital information that we all needed to know, or a human interest vignette.

12. Chris Mortensen
13. Some other guy

Then it was getting close to kick-off. So, it was only natural to check in with our beautiful sideline reporters for the game (one for each team), because, really, who wants to just look at a bunch of unattractive, hulky ex-football player dudes all night:

14. Suzy Kolber
15. Michelle Tafoya

Then finally back to the play-by-play guys for the kick-off.

That’s fifteen, count ‘em, fifteen people preparing us for a Monday Night Football game! That’s a lot more people than many of our presidents have hired to write their speeches—you know, those inconsequential orations like the State of the Union, executive orders, proclamations, and the like. That’s way more people than it took to get the first airplane to fly. That’s the same number as the seats on the United Nations Security Council.

Fifteen people are there to make sure I know that if Pittsburgh’s offense keeps driving the ball down the field and scoring like this, and if their defense keeps stopping Denver, then they stand a good chance of winning the game.

Stupid Song Lyrics

Well, it’s the second Wednesday of the month, so, time for another installment of “Stupid Song Lyrics.”

Today’s entry comes from one of the paragons of the rock era, the one, the only, Sir Elton John. Elton, incidentally, is currently recovering from a case of the flu and E. coli, for which he was hospitalized. He had to cancel several concert dates. So, here’s wishing Elton a speedy recovery.

Today’s stupid lyrics come to us from one of his earliest hits, “Rocket Man”:

“Mars ain’t the kind of place to raise your kids. In fact, it’s cold as hell. And there’s no one there to raise them, if you did.”

All right, let’s break this down into smaller chunks.

“Mars ain’t the kind of place to raise your kids.” No duh. As far as I have been able to discern from my research, Mars has no ipods, i-tunes, i-phones, cell phones, blackberries, Facebook, X-Box, Playstation, Guitar Hero, Sour candy, SUVs, minivans, amusement parks, Quizno’s, Tropical Smoothies, swimming pools, laptops, Lil Wayne videos, flip-flops, ESPN, cable TV, or that annoying spray paint that is used to write cute messages on your car windows the day before the big football game. There’s just no way you could possibly raise a kid on Mars.

“In fact, it’s cold as hell.” Now, I have no quibble with the fact that it is cold on Mars. We all know that Mars is further away from the Sun than Earth, and Mars lacks a thick atmospheric layer that can help contain heat. The air temperature there apparently rarely gets over freezing, and at the poles it averages -200 F. But “cold as hell?” What does that mean? Not only in the Bible, but in the traditional, popular conception, hell is a place of fiery torment, indescribably hot. Now if he had said, “Mercury ain’t the kind of place to raise your kids. In fact, it’s hot as hell”—well, that would be different. The only possible explanation I can think of is, maybe he is getting at, like, when something is so cold that it is actually hot. Like on a winter day when you eat a snowball and it is so cold that it actually burns your tongue. Then maybe something could be “cold as hell,” so to speak. But I don’t really think that’s what he means.

“And there’s no one there to raise them, if you did.” If you did what? Take your kids to Mars? But if you did that, then you would be there too, so you could just raise them yourself. Unless, of course, he is trying to say that you would somehow send your kids off to Mars by themselves unaccompanied by any adult, which is absurd. I’m sorry, but unless there was some miraculous way to get your kids off to Mars absolutely by themselves, then there would have to be someone there to raise them . . . if you did.

These lyrics have perplexed me for at least twenty-five years. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever understand them. I might eventually, but believe me, I think it’s gonna be a long long time.

Thousand meetings . . . post-script

First of all, allenq wins the prize for the word frightened. I had already thought of feedback. For what it's worth, delightful and prerequisite also qualify. Of course there are probably more, but I suspect not that many. When you look at the alphabet, there are only a few realistic strings of letters in which to find such words. For instance, I doubt there are any English words that contain u, v, w, x, y, and z. I usually get to a point of diminishing returns and decide to move on to new game.

What has always intrigued me over the course of these "thousand meetings" is that, without fail, there are some attendees who are wholeheartedly not bored. I look at such people and marvel how they can be so passionate about something, when I am often bored to tears about the same thing.

To me, this highlights a very important idea. That is, the opposite of boredom is passion. Passion is doing something that you don't want to stop doing--kind of like when you are reading a real "page turner" of a book and can't put it down, even to eat or sleep. Doing something that is your passion gives a sense of exhilaration and satisfaction that you don't find in other endeavors in life. I have a great deal of respect for those who are passionate about what they do, even if it is in an area that I do not find particularly interesting.

This is also why I am so thankful that God has given me a passion in life. As my profile states, I have a passion for studying and teaching the Bible. And when I say "passion," I mean exactly that. It is the first thing in my life that I have ever done that is akin to that "page turner" of a book. I want to keep studying and teaching the Bible all the time, and it never, ever gets boring. To me, this is just one indicator that I am "doing the right thing" by pursuing a seminary degree and a career in teaching theological studies. I may not get there until I am fifty (or older), but it is my passion.

A thousand boring meetings

I was in a meeting this week at work, and to be frank, it was kind of boring. As my mind wandered, I mused that I must have sat through a thousand boring meetings in my life. But then I started to give this idea some more thought.

First of all, I go to a lot of meetings. Seems I always have. It would not be a stretch for me to say that, on average, I attend at least one boring meeting a week (maybe I get bored too easily?). And if I attend one boring meeting per week, that would equate to about fifty boring meetings a year. Therefore, in the past twenty years (the bulk of my adult life), without too much exaggeration, I think I can say that I have indeed been in a thousand boring meetings.

My cardinal rule for boring meetings is this: Do not fall asleep! It’s just a conviction I have, and I really do everything in my power not to doze off in meetings. It could lead to any number of embarrassing situations, not to mention it is not courteous to the speaker. So on the bright side, I rarely snooze through meetings. However, the bad news is that I often find myself playing all sorts of mental games to keep my mind occupied and awake—and unfortunately I end up not paying attention.

In particular, over the years I have concocted many mental games or puzzles, normally based on letters of the alphabet, words, or patterns of words on the overhead powerpoint slides typically presented at meetings. Here is an example of a game that I am currently working.

Simply stated, the “game” is to answer this question: What (English) word can you find that contains the highest number of consecutive letters in it? I mean “consecutive” in an alphabetical sense, i.e. l, m, n, o, p.

For example, the word “like” has two consecutive letters in it: k and l. The word “mopping” has four: m, n, o, and p. To date, I have found two words that contain six consecutive letters (I’m not going to tell you what they are right now).

So, for a prize, can you be the first to come up with a word with six (or more) consecutive letters that is different from the two that I have in my head right now? [You have my pledge of honesty in the disclosure of my answers.]

The only caveat I have is that basic Scrabble rules apply. It has to be a real, normal English word that you can find in the dictionary. No “forced” words are permitted. For instance, if something is sort of outstanding, one might say it is “outstandingish.” I would not consider that a word.

Bible names turned into adjectives

When I started to take seminary classes a few years ago, I figured I would pretty much understand the lingo. I had gone to church since I was a child and I had taught Sunday School for a while, so I thought I’d be okay. Well, in some ways yes, and in some ways no. One thing I observed was, as in any other field or profession, theologians have their own vocabulary, so to speak.

One example of this that caught my ear early on was that many professors have a penchant for turning Bible names into adjectives. Now, if you attend church at least semi-regularly, you’ve heard some examples of this. Perhaps you recall a preacher making reference to the Mosaic Law (i.e. of Moses), the Davidic covenant (of David, of course), or the Pauline epistles (the New Testament books written by the apostle Paul). Okay, fine. But I was recently reading a “scholarly article” that described a priesthood as “Melchizedekian” (Melchizedek was a character who visited Abraham in the book of Genesis). Call me a cynic, but the only reason I can think of as to why you would need to use the word “Melchizedekian” is if you wanted everyone to know how smart you are (or, in other words, to make an ostentatious show of your erudition).

But “Melchizedekian” isn’t the only example (maybe just the worst). Some sound a little funny—like Adamic (pronounced uh-DAM-ik), as in, “we all inherit Adamic guilt.” When I first heard an instructor say this, I did a double-take because I thought he was cursing. Then there is Aaronic, like the Aaronic priesthood of Moses’ brother, Aaron (isn’t it Aaronic, now don’t you think?). The list goes on: Petrine (Peter), Johannine (John), Solomonic, etc. Some even take it beyond Bible characters. In a church history class I got kind of lost as the professor kept referring to “Thomistic” thought, the word appearing on the overhead slide. I briefly panicked, because the only “Thom” I could think of was Thom McAn, and I was sure he wasn’t referring to him. The subject of this adjective was of course the great Christian philosopher Thomas Aquinas (how could I have been so silly?).

So, in the spirit of “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” I am starting my own list of adjectives (and maybe a noun here or there) derived from biblical names. Hey, maybe I will keep a running list and update you from time to time. Maybe I’ll even try a few out in public conversation, just to see what the reaction is. Then again, maybe I won’t.

1. If you are describing an exceedingly attractive woman, you could say that her beauty is Estheric, after the beautiful Queen Esther. Or, you could simply say, “She’s Estherical!”

2. Older people who are still living a Godly life after all these years are “Enochers” (I’ll let you look up Genesis 5:21-24).

3. You remember the book of Job, where Job’s three friends visited him and went to great lengths to try to convince Job of his supposed sin. That said, guess the vocabulary word in this sentence: “His lengthy, critical harangue was Bildadic in scope.”

4. If the things of Paul are Pauline, then I think it’s only fair to say that things pertaining to Joseph are “Josephine.” Actually, this one may already be in use.

5. The shortest book in the New Testament is Philemon. Thus, a very short letter to someone could be described as “Philemonic.” I would pronounce it as fill-uh-MON-ik, as in, “Parliament’s curt denunciation of the Prime Minister’s economic policy came to be known as the ‘London Philemonic.’” (Sorry.)

6. And lastly (for now): That bullfrog was Jeremiahic (jeh-ruh-MY-ick).

Cream and sugar, bread and wine

I visited a church on a recent Sunday morning, and the first thing I noticed when I walked in was a big coffee bar right in front of me in the foyer. I know that many churches these days are serving up cappuccino and coffee on Sunday mornings, but I had never seen it firsthand. My home church does not have a coffee stand, and to my knowledge it has never been considered.

When I saw what was going on with the “coffee fellowship,” I had a strange sensation. I found myself struck almost simultaneously by positive and negative reactions, which stayed with me for a little while that morning.

First, my immediate reaction was one of excitement. I saw about seventy-five people who were alive, awake, talking, and enjoying one another’s company—at 8:15 in the morning! I thought that was kind of cool. A church is a body of Christians who share their lives together, and that seemed to be what was going on.

But I confess that at almost the same moment a twinge of disapproval came to my mind. Why? Was there something wrong with what they were doing? I forced myself (mentally) to articulate to myself why I felt this disapproval. And I guess my answer was two-fold: (1) It was something I wasn’t used to, and therefore it seemed abnormal—i.e. “that’s just not the way church is done”; and (2) somehow it seemed inappropriate and irreverent to be having a cappuccino party in the Lord’s house on the Lord’s day. I quickly resolved that as for reason (1), I needed to just get over it, and for (2), maybe I was being too harsh. After all, in a few minutes everyone would proceed inside the sanctuary to worship God corporately.

As I sat down for the worship service, I began to notice others shuffling in and finding their seats, coffee in hand. As the congregation sang, then sat for a brief time of welcome and announcements, I observed several people get up, go out to the foyer for a refill, and return. And this is where my negative feelings started to flare up again. This is God’s house. We are here to worship the eternal, holy Creator and Savior of the universe. It just seems a bit casual to be doing so while sippin’ a cup of Joe the whole time. It is my opinion that there is a qualitative difference between what we do in a worship service and, say, listening to a lecture at the local college, watching a movie, or quietly reading a book at Barnes and Noble. Worship service at church should be as reverent, respectful to God, and spiritually meaningful as possible.

Now, before any of you jump all over me for being overly critical, let me say that I had another change of heart and I left that morning with very positive feelings about that church as well as my worship experience there. Despite my above-mentioned concern, there were many laudable aspects. The congregation did seem to have a sense of community and togetherness. And hey, the coffee seemed to help—I didn’t see anybody falling asleep. You can’t say that about all churches. To top it all off, the sermon was excellent. The church observed communion that Sunday, and the sermon was on the subject of communion. I found it to be very meaningful. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I’ve heard a sermon on the subject. The congregants were instructed as to the meaning and significance of communion, and how each must prepare his or her heart beforehand so as not to participate in an unworthy manner. Then we proceeded to take time for introspection, and took the bread and the cup together. The richness of the sermon led to a rich communion experience. So despite my mental calisthenics over the “doctrine of cappuccino,” I truly feel that God was honored in the way communion was taught and observed that morning.

And as I left church that morning, I found myself thinking less about the coffee, and more about the significance of communion. I was truly struck thinking about what Christ did for me, and how I will spend eternity with Him.