Reading as Method

My sabbatical project has me doing a lot of things, including a lot of reading. As described in my proposal, the aim of the project is to engage in reading several different discourses and to put them in conversation--including but not limited to the discourses surrounding information literacy, critical pedagogies, ethics of technology, and Christian anthropology.

This morning saw me reflecting about this practice of reading, and its connection as a method to the way I engage, move through, and exist in the world. I asked myself the question:

What is my method of being in the world? 

I'm sure the answer to that question is actually a multiplicity of methods, but there is one in particular I want to free-write on in this post, and that is the method of reading the world (and all the things in it) as text(s).

What follows is an exercise in articulating what I mean.

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The book I was reading this morning is a text.
The notebook I was scribbling my notes and quotes in, using color-coded pens, is a text.
The project I am pursuing this summer is a text.
The communities I am a part of, and with whom I am in dialogue, are texts.
My individual and communal relationships with people in my personal and professional life are texts.
My daughter is a (beautiful) text.
My marriage is a text.
My sabbatical experience is a text.
My anxiety is a text.
My faith (and the theology it's rooted in) is a text.
The Christian liturgy is a text.
The pain experienced daily by those I love and care about is a text.
My own pain is a text
My family is a text.
My 'professional learning network' is a text.
My 'digital footprint' is a text.
This blog post is a text.
The public personal-professional identity this post helps construct is a text.
The Twitter interface is a text.
#critlib (both the hashtag and the concept it signifies) is/are a text(s).
Professional documents are texts.
Library catalogs and databases are texts. And they make accessible (or not) texts.
The books on our library shelves are texts, but so is the configuration of space in which those books are made available.
Library space is a text.
A garden is a text.
Histories are texts.
Data sets are texts.
Bodies of work are texts.
Bodies are texts.
Thought processes are texts.
Memories are texts.
Lived experience is a text.

When all of these things (and more--the list could go on, of course) are understood as texts, it means they can be read. Reading in this sense is dynamic participation in meaning-making with and in relationship to texts.

Seeing the world as a text made up of infinite yet particular texts (and beautiful in their particularity) does not reify the world and its parts, but instead invites meaning-making out of and within the world (and its parts!), because it means I as a subject can read these texts and grow my own understanding from that reading act. And so can you.

***

As I was having these reflective thoughts earlier today, it led me to look up textuality in Wikipedia, in an effort to better remember ideas I learned about in the undergraduate literary criticism course that was part of my English and American Literature major. Here is a small excerpt that almost poetically gets at what I'm referring to in this post as my method of being in the world:

Textuality is a practice. Through a text’s textuality, it makes itself mean, makes itself be, and makes itself come about in a particular way. Through its textuality, the text relinquishes its status as identity and affirms its condition as pure difference. In indifference, the text "dedefines" itself, etches itself in a texture or network of meaning which is not limited to the text itself. (Source)

***

My thoughts on this are still developing--in the process of being written as a text, if you will. But this method connects my faith, my developing understanding of social justice, my information literacy and library work (including the pedagogies I aim to use in that work), and my engagement with technology. And these are all the things I have set out to read during my sabbatical.

I'm a week and a half into my sabbatical part two, which lasts twelve weeks in total. I'm looking forward to seeing where reading as method leads me in the coming months.

This is a picture of my daughter making something out of string.

Making the Information Literacy ‘One-Shot’ Ignatian

What follows is the culminating project I proposed as a result of my participation in the Ignatian Pedagogy Seminar on my campus on August 3-7, 2015, a transformative experience to say the least. It describes the ways in which I plan to incorporate what I learned during the seminar into my instructional activities. 

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My experience participating in the Ignatian Pedagogy Seminar this summer has set the direction for the next phase of my broader research agenda into the relationship between pedagogy, technology, and the humanity of learners. As a first step in this process, I propose the following project as a culmination of my participation in the seminar in summer 2015.

My plan is to use the 5-point Ignatian pedagogical paradigm (Ignatian Pedagogy—An Abridged Version [pdf] [IPP], 2014) as a framework for infusing Ignatian vision and pedagogy into the primary type of instruction I deliver as a faculty librarian: ‘one-shot’ information literacy instruction. ‘One-shot’ information literacy instruction refers to instruction by a librarian on information literacy[1] topics, skills, and concepts to students in a course as a guest presentation within the course schedule. The students only see the librarian in the classroom context once throughout the semester, which makes developing a relationship-based rapport with students a challenge. When done well, the ‘one-shot’ can be effective, but it requires that the librarian collaborate in advance with the course instructor on learning outcomes for the information literacy instruction session, assignment design for the research-based assignment(s) within the course, and assessment of student learning as a result of the session. There must be visible[2] mutual respect between the librarian and the course instructor for the ‘one-shot’ to work, but even when collaboration based on this respect occurs, pedagogical choices by the librarian are limited in scope to what can be accomplished in either 50 or 75 minutes.

In the 5-point Ignatian pedagogical paradigm, the first and last points—context and evaluation—are more difficult to apply concretely and pedagogically within the ‘one-shot’ model of instruction, though a few things can be said about each in relation to information literacy instruction that aims to be infused with Ignatian methods and vision.

Context, in which the teacher seeks to “understand the world of the student” (IPP, 2014, p.4) including the context in which learning occurs, is something on the one hand librarians are always doing: we both select and use the same research tools our students will be using to accomplish their research, and we can develop empathy for novice researchers based on that shared experience. Making this shared experience explicit within instruction is one strategy for making information literacy instruction more Ignatian. On the other hand, we often lack knowledge of the course context within which the information literacy instruction will take place: we are not their primary instructors, and we exist outside of the dynamics, rapport, and content knowledge they are developing through and in the course. A simple way to begin to address this is to reach out to the course instructor in advance and request a copy of the syllabus and course schedule, so the librarian can see how their information literacy instruction will fit within the bigger picture of the course as a whole.

Evaluation, which is the final point of the paradigm, refers to teachers evaluating the progress of students toward their learning goals. This is especially challenging for a librarian delivering ‘one-shot’ instruction because we do not typically have access to the student work that demonstrates that progress has been achieved. That being said, there are simple ways the librarian can provide timely and formative student feedback even within the ‘one-shot’ framework of instruction, including building into the session an activity that results in some form of student work—even if it is process-based and ‘unfinished’—which the librarian can review and respond to in the weeks following the session. This kind of feedback loop requires collaboration with the course instructor to facilitate getting the feedback to the students in a timely manner, but is worthwhile in that it would enable the librarian to complete the 5-point Ignatian paradigm in an explicit manner with students so they see the value of all five points and have an opportunity to grow in response to instructor feedback.

The middle three points of the paradigm—experience, reflection, and action—offer compelling analogs to the research process, which information literacy instruction aims to develop awareness of in students, and are the points I plan to incorporate into my ‘one-shot’ instruction most explicitly in Fall 2015 and beyond. I see this playing out in the following manner:

• Experience: Students need to experience, in a hands-on/applied manner (i.e., direct experience (IPP, 2014, p.5)), what it is like to ‘do research’, even before I’ve taught them anything, since the research process as I teach it is recursive and always happening, whether they are doing academic course work or running a quick Google search to find the hours for their favorite coffee shop.
• Reflection: Students need to reflect on what they already know, through the research experiences they’ve already had (including those prompted by their instructors), in order to determine if their approach needs revision in order to achieve their goal for the research. Reflection in this context will benefit from facilitation by the teacher (in this case, the librarian), who has already internalized the outcomes students are developing through the activity—we might call this ‘reflection with a purpose’.
•  Action: Through structured reflection, students can create a revised research strategy in order to better meet their identified need, which they can then ‘test’ by putting it into action. The research strategy the librarian hopes students will develop as a result of information literacy instruction is not the one deployed during the initial experience phase, but the one developed and implemented at this, the action phase. In this way the experience phase serves as a safe space for students to try something, have it ‘fail’, and revise based on what is observed as a result of it not working as expected.

It is also worth noting that this process is always recursive (repetitio): the experience-reflection-action cycle can and should occur many times throughout the research process, with each cycle resulting in a more focused and effective research strategy for the topic or question the student is researching.

Practically speaking, I will try out the following concrete strategies to accomplish making the above pedagogical goals explicit for students:

• Collaborate in advance with the course instructor, via email and in person if needed. This includes requesting a copy of the course syllabus, as well as any research-based assignment prompts students will be working from at the time of the information literacy instruction. These materials will assist me with the context point in the paradigm.
• Develop a ‘flipped’ classroom activity, in collaboration with the course instructor, designed to give students an initial research experience from which our classroom session will draw. This initial activity would need to be assigned as homework by the course instructor during the class meeting prior to their information literacy instruction with me.
• During the ‘one-shot’ information literacy session, devote time to a structured reflection activity in which students reflect on what worked and what didn’t during their initial experience activity (see bullet point above). This could be either oral or written (or both).
• During the second half of the ‘one-shot’ information literacy session, develop and guide students through a template for developing a revised research strategy they can put into action, based on the ideas discovered communally in the reflection activity. 
• Evaluation could take one of two forms: either the reflection or action activities may have a written component which I could collect and evaluate in the weeks following the session, or a collaborative assessment of students’ final work for the research-based assignment(s) could be arranged with the course instructor. 

Finally, in order to make the above points of the Ignatian pedagogical paradigm explicit for the students, I propose to develop a short, one-page handout that outlines the 5-point Ignatian pedagogical paradigm and how each point relates to the research process. I am undecided as to whether I would distribute this handout in advance of my instruction (through the ‘flipped’ classroom/experience activity), or at the end of my instruction session with the students, retroactively revealing the connections between the activities we just accomplished together and the Ignatian aspect of their education here at the university. When and how I share the handout will likely depend on how complex and time-consuming the activities wind up being, and the needs of each particular course.

I teach many ‘one-shot’ information literacy instruction sessions, in courses ranging from T/RS 121: Introduction to the Bible to WRTG 107: Composition (First-Year Writing). Upper-level and disciplinary courses I sometimes deliver ‘one-shot’ instruction to are in departments as diverse as English & Theatre, Theology/Religious Studies, Sociology/Criminal Justice, and Women’s Studies. My goal will be to challenge myself to deploy as many of the above strategies in as many of my ‘one-shots’ as possible, understanding that not every instruction context is suitable for every strategy outlined above.

I am excited about this challenge, as I believe it will make my ‘one-shot’ instruction more effective, transferrable (skills- and dispositions-wise), and fulfilling for all involved: myself (the librarian), the course instructor, and of course the students.

AMDG.

Image by Flickr user theologhia via
CC BY-NC 2.0 (human readable summary here)

References

Framework for Information Literacy for Higher Education. 2015. Association of College and Research Libraries. http://www.ala.org/acrl/standards/ilframework.

Ignatian Pedagogy—An Abridged Version. 2014. Jesuit Institute. http://tinyurl.com/IPP2014 [pdf].

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[1] “Information literacy is the set of integrated abilities encompassing the reflective discovery of information, the understanding of how information is produced and valued, and the use of information in creating new knowledge and participating ethically in communities of learning” (Framework for Information Literacy for Higher Education).

[2] To students.

Love Amid Ideas

Dammit. This was not the post I planned to write today.

Yesterday evening, Fr. Matthew Baker, an Orthodox Christian scholar, priest, husband and father, died tragically in a car accident on his way home from one of the vespers services that happens each Sunday of Great Lent in our tradition.

I knew him: not well on a personal level, though I count as friends many, many who did.

I am grieving, for many reasons, one of which has compelled me to reflect with public words.

Fr. Matthew represented something rare in the academy. He was first and foremost a person of faith, yet with an intellect that was incredibly vast and complex. During his studies, he attended and/or lived at four Orthodox seminaries in our country, one of which is my husband's alma mater and present employer.

Fr. Matthew was also very close to completing his PhD in theology at Fordham University. A look at his Academia.edu profile will illustrate how prolific Fr. Matthew's scholarship is. He was becoming--or perhaps already had become--the foremost scholar on the subject of Fr. Georges Florovsky's life, work, and theology. I used a small, yet significant essay of Florovsky's as source material in my Master's thesis on the relationship between knowledge and Christian worship. Though I have not delved deeply into the greater works of Florovsky, I am acutely aware of the contribution Fr. Matthew's work has made, is making, and will continue to make in the academic discourse on contemporary Orthodox Christian theology. The American Church, as well as the academy, has lost a light in Fr. Matthew.

There are many reasons I am grieving right now at his death, even though I did not know him well personally; I am grateful, however, for the small handful of multi-person conversations I shared with him on a few occasions.

The reason I wanted to touch briefly on here, because it is absolutely relevant to the project of this blog, is the loss in Fr. Matthew of a scholar who was capable of rigorous engagement in the public fora of ideas, while yet remaining authentic to the person he was, made in the image and likeness of God...and even further, that in and through his engagement with the diversity of ideas one encounters in any area of the academy--perhaps even especially one that sounds (though is not) as homogeneous as contemporary Orthodox Christian theology--he always, always, maintained his ability and desire to understand the ideas he encountered as coming from persons also made in the image and likeness of God and worthy of love--so even when he disagreed with the ideas themselves, he loved and respected the persons from which they came, which was made clear in his words, attitude, and actions toward them even amid the rigorous engagement that was his hallmark.

This is something I aspire to in my work with both colleagues and students, and in my life as a whole. And I grieve the loss of a role model in this very complicated, often challenging endeavor.

Dammit.

My work is in many ways different from the scholarly work Fr. Matthew was doing leading up to his untimely death. My terminal degrees are at the Master's level; he was very close to completing his PhD. My primary discipline is library and information science; his was theology.

Interestingly, I just realized we do share something significant that I had not thought of until now: both of our institutional affiliations are Jesuit universities. This may only seem significant to those readers who have either studied or worked at a Jesuit institution, but it is indeed significant. That link leads to a piece in the alumni journal at my institution, where I both work as a faculty librarian and completed my MA in Theology not two years ago. I am quoted in that piece, which was published today, as saying the following:

Jesuit higher education is an incredibly special thing, because it synthesizes exciting and rigorous intellectual endeavor with the better version of ourselves, formed to love and serve God and others.

Though the Orthodox Christian faith is distinct from the Roman Catholic faith that is part of the institutional mission and identity at both Scranton and Fordham, the Jesuit focus on intellectual engagement whose goal is to transform participants into men and women for others to the Glory of God means that Orthodox Christian scholarly folk like Fr. Matthew and myself (and a significant number of other scholars in our shared circle of colleague-friends) are invited to bring our whole, Orthodox Christian selves to the intellectual table in these communities. Even when what we have to say is very different from what has been said until now.

Fr. Matthew understood both the value of this welcome, and the responsibility it entails. I already recognize the value, and can only hope I grow into the responsibility through my work moving forward.

Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. (Philippians 4:8, RSV)

(c) Princeton Theological Seminary (source) 

Memory Eternal, Fr. Matthew.

Fr. Matthew leaves behind his widow, Katherine, and six children. His children were in the car with him when the accident occurred, and witnessed their father's violent death, though they were not seriously physically injured themselves. A fundraising campaign has been set up to help support the Baker family at this unimaginably heartbreaking time in their life. Please consider giving if you can.

Another picture of Fr. Matthew, teaching his seminar course at Hellenic College:

Source (Update #11)

Master's Thesis: Link to Full Text

Screen grab of the record for my thesis in the Masters Theses Collection at my library (click to embiggen)

Not long after I successfully defended my Master's thesis, I submitted both the print and electronic versions to my library's digital services department to be added to our Masters Theses Collection. In the spirit of open access, I decided to grant the library permission to make my thesis viewable electronically to the public, worldwide. Once my thesis was live in the collection, my thesis advisor noted: "From defense to global accessibility in 6 days...that's remarkable. And accessed it should be." (Very kind of him.) I agree that it's exciting to think that my thesis is now available for scholars to read, but I'm even more excited that this enables me to share my work with those in my life who are interested in reading it: family, friends, and church folk.

So, without further ado, here is the link to my thesis. If you do decide to click over and skim or read part or all of it, I would love to hear your thoughts and feedback, no matter what the context is in which you are reading it (i.e., fellow Orthodox Christian, fellow theology scholar, fellow librarian interested in things-scholarly, or close friend or family member -- or any other group I may be missing!).

Master's Thesis: Defended + Acknowledgments and Introduction

Image source via Pinterest.

Yesterday afternoon, I successfully defended my Master's thesis, titled:

"Now lay aside all earthly cares": 

Knowledge of God through Christian Worship

Although there is still paperwork to file, the physical degree to confer, and my commencement ceremony to partake of, at the conclusion of my defense I became a Master of Arts in Theology. I am excited about the work I produced, and relieved to have finally accomplished this important milestone. Besides the personal fulfillment it brings, it is also a requirement for applying for both promotion in academic rank and tenure in my position of Assistant Professor on the library faculty at my school. I plan to apply for promotion this year, with the deadline of November 1st for submitting my application materials, so completing and defending my thesis this month was a necessity, and one I am proud to have accomplished.

When I posted the news yesterday on Facebook, first that the defense was occurring later that afternoon, then that my defense was a success, I also included the title of the thesis in my status update, and many people in my life expressed an interest in reading it. I am about 95% sure that I will give my library permission to make the digitized version of the thesis accessible to anyone who knows the link or searches for it in our library catalog. I have a newly developed commitment to open access and to making my work available to be found, read, and engaged with...a commitment which has the freedom to blossom in the wake of having accomplished two publications in blind peer-reviewed journals in my field--publications which unfortunately are not at present openly accessible. I hope to rectify that in some way soon, but in the meantime, I wrote my thesis not just for me, but for anyone who participates in worship, especially in the Orthodox Christian context. I can't justify keeping the work behind an access wall. Which is all to say, unless my mind on this matter changes between now and filing the paperwork for the completed thesis, I will post the link to the full version on my blog once that process is complete. 

All of this being said, there are two short excerpts I want to share now, right here in the body of this blog post. One is my Acknowledgments page, because I want to be able to easily link to and share my thanks to these individuals, so I can share them sooner rather than later. The other is my Introduction, which is around three pages long. This lays out my research question, and my proposed answer to it, and explains how I go about demonstrating the answer over the course of the thesis (i.e., which writers I draw from and to what ends I do so). This second excerpt will be of interest to anyone for whom the title of the work sounds like something you want to read more about. The Introduction also begins with a reflection on my personal experience of worship, from which my research question sprang, so it is also a glimpse into my perspective as a choir singer in an Orthodox Christan parish. So, without further ado, here are the excerpts, to which I invite feedback and response.

Acknowledgments  

I am very grateful to many for the support, prayers, insights, and influence that have led to this completed work. 

To my colleagues and administrators in the Library Department here at The University of Scranton: thank you for your support and flexibility as I completed my coursework, and then researched and wrote this thesis. I couldn’t have done it without you behind me. 

To my instructors in the graduate theology program: thank you for helping to form my thinking throughout the program as I approached this capstone research project; and thank you especially to Dr. Nathan Lefler and Dr. Maria Poggi Johnson, for your time and expertise in reading and offering feedback on this work.  

To my classmates in the program: I truly believe that learning happens in community, and your presence in the classroom with me as we attempted to wrap our feeble minds around the mysteries of God was a gift. Thank you.  

To Dr. Will Cohen: thank you for your time and willingness to guide me through this work, and for your valuable insights that helped me transform a rambling research idea rooted in personal experience into a fully-formed work that manages to maintain its heart.  

To my mother, Celia, my father, Jack (Memory Eternal.), and my brother, John: I wouldn’t be the scholar I am today without your encouragement; thank you for giving me the confidence to pursue what fulfills me and for always making my work feel worthwhile.  

And, to Paul and Anna: thank you for being my reason for sitting down at the computer and cranking this work out. I did it for you, with love. 

Introduction  

As a member of the choir in an Orthodox Christian parish, my experience of the liturgy—from the Greek leitourgia, popularly understood to mean “work of the people”[1]—is at once beautiful and, at times, puzzling. Every Sunday I attend the liturgy, during which I sing and participate, along with my fellow parishioners, in communal worship. The entire service is sung through, with the choir singing the responses on behalf of the faithful, though what I offer here can easily apply to any other manner of service during the liturgy, including simply standing actively at prayer. For the hour and a half or so that I am in church for the service, it often feels like time stands still—or, in some sense, ceases to exist. While singing the prayers and hymns of the liturgy, the most fulfilling moments are when I can’t hear my own voice, when my voice gets absorbed into the greater work of the choir as a whole. These are also the moments when time does not seem to exist in the same way it does when I am focused on singing technique, or paying close attention to how I sound in reference to the singers around me. These moments of timelessness during the liturgy are restful—they are what I look forward to every week when I go to church. And yet, it takes work to achieve them: the work of getting myself and my family to church each Sunday, learning the music, understanding the prayers, developing my vocal instrument, and so on. 

This experience is not unique to me. Hilarion Alfeyev, Metropolitan of Volokolamsk in the Russian Orthodox Church, describes his own experience of worship in the liturgy in the following manner:

Orthodox divine services are characterized by inner integrity and astounding beauty. . . . The entire service is conducted as if in one breath, in one rhythm, like an ever unfolding mystery in which nothing distracts one from prayer. . . . two hours are never sufficient for me, since the time goes by so quickly and the dismissal comes too soon . . . [due to] the sweetness of communion with God and the unearthly stillness and calm that enter the soul while serving the liturgy . . . (n. pag.)

Alfeyev’s experience mirrors mine, but he would be the first to agree that despite this gift we’re given in liturgical worship, the act itself requires much of us if it is to successfully yield to an experience like the one described here. It is this paradox, at once beautiful yet puzzling, that drove the research of my inquiry and defined the question of this thesis: How is this work, rest? 

The simplest form the answer to this question might take is to say: This work is rest because in it and through it we come to know God. The aim of this thesis is to articulate how this occurs, where the Incarnation of God in Christ makes possible man’s participation in the divine through worship and liturgy. To this end, Chapter I focuses on foundational ideas from Plato and Aristotle of how the human soul, containing reason and intellect, can be said to participate in the divine; these ideas are later taken up by Christianity and applied to the act of worship. Chapter II offers the thought of Saints Augustine (354-430 A.D.) and Maximus the Confessor (c.580-662 A.D.) on the topic of how knowledge of God is understood in the Christian context; several key shifts in emphasis from this topic’s treatment in antiquity are identified and developed, including the expansion of man’s participation in the divine to include the human body as well as the soul, and the apophatic character of God where man’s access to true knowledge of God (i.e., “mystical theology”) is mediated by an encounter between God and the Body of Christ (i.e., the community of believers) joined in a dynamic unity through divine worship. Chapter III moves the discussion to the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, when a generation apart Catholic philosopher Josef Pieper and Eastern Orthodox theologian Andrew Louth engage in questions related to human reason and intellect and how these work together to enable us to achieve our highest humanity: to know God in a manner both human and divine. Chapter IV brings the inquiry full circle, drawing on the above scholars, as well as twentieth century Eastern Orthodox theologians Alexander Schmemann and Georges Florovsky, to demonstrate how worship is both the primary activity through which we come to know God, and, our loving response to that knowledge. 

Before proceeding, a disclaimer must be offered. The irony is not lost on me that I am offering a work that hopes to articulate the nature of how we come to know God, when the “answer” to this question is that, for the Christian believer, this knowledge is made possible in and through divine worship centering on the Eucharist. As my priest is wont to say, the simplest and most effective response to an inquirer’s question, “Who is the Christian God?” is: Come and see (cf. John 1:46), coupled with an invitation to attend liturgy some Sunday morning.[2] That being said, and as will hopefully be made clear in the following work, a rigorous critical engagement with the question has an important purpose to serve, for such inquiries help to prepare and condition the mind toward the restful anticipation required of us to fully enter into divine worship, enabling us to come to know God in and through the process. 

[1] The popularizing of this definition can be traced to the pastorally oriented liturgical theology of Alexander Schmemann; as Stefanos Alexopoulos explains, “Indeed, seeing ritual as a magical act is a real danger in highly ritual traditions, including the Orthodox, and I believe it is this danger that moved Schmemann and others after him to define liturgy as the ‘work of the people.’ While in the North American Protestant and possibly Catholic setting emphasis on this definition might limit or even diminish the understanding of the Eucharist as God’s gift, in an Orthodox setting there is need to emphasize the involvement and role of the community” (see pp. 288-289 of “Did the Work of Fr. Alexander Schmemann Influence Modern Greek Theological Thought? A Preliminary Assessment” in St Vladimir’s Theological Quarterly 53 (2009): 273-299). 

[2] The role and function of catechesis in preparing a person for entering fully into the community of faith presents an important tension that exists between the Orthodox Church’s requirement that new adult members receive rational instruction in the faith prior to sacramental initiation, on the one hand, and her practice of baptizing, chrismating, and communing infants who themselves have yet to reach the age of reason and understanding, on the other. It is a tension with significant implications, but which falls outside the scope of this thesis.

UPDATE: I've now posted the link to the full-text of my thesis, for anyone interested in reading it in full.

Paradigm Shift

Eight years ago I underwent a paradigm shift of the kind one can't plan or orchestrate in this life, but instead one arrives at primarily by God's hand.

Paradigm shift...

On May 15, 2005, the Feast of the Holy Myrrhbearers,* I was Chrismated into the Orthodox Christian Church.

Every aspect of my life, from school to work to family and everything in between, has been changed for the better because of it.

And I've been grateful every day since.

*This year is a year in which the liturgical and civil calendars line up almost identically to how they did that year, since today is also the Feast of the Holy Myrrhbearers. Always fun when this happens. </liturgicalgeek>

Edit: Looks like I commemorated this event last year on the blog as well using much the same language. Guess it's just that important. :)

Beginning

After thinking about what I'd want to research for the past five years, and then actually doing background research and thought work on the topic for the past year, I'm finally ready to begin the investigative work on the Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom that will be the central portion of my thesis toward completion of my M.A. in Theology. 

I've actually avoided this moment for a while now, arguing to myself and others that I still need to do more background research before I've "earned the right" to work with my primary text of choice. A few weeks ago my thesis advisor disagreed, and made the good point that I won't be able to focus all of my background work unless I know what I plan to say about the liturgy, and the only way to find that out is to enter into the text... in other words, to read it. 

I hear and pray this liturgy every Sunday*, and have for eight years now. I am very familiar with it in that context. But textually analyzing it, with the end goal of articulating how the words engage our minds and hearts when the liturgy is served... definitely a first for me. And I'm both excited and humbled by the task I've set for myself.

Best get started... + Lord, bless.

*Unless it's a lenten period, in which case the Divine Liturgy of St. Basil is served.

Merry Christmas 2012 from Greenvale

Look who St. Nicholas dropped into our Christmas scene...

Christ is Born! Glorify Him!

Wishing anyone who reads my little blog a happy and safe holiday.

With love, from the Witek's

When Worlds Collide

Tech world, meet Orthodoxy.



In this TEDx talk, "Re-creation of the Icon," iconographer Lynette Hull draws a compelling parallel between Steve Jobs' focus on the use of icons (the kind on our computing devices) and beauty of design, and the ancient Christian art of iconography. This talk is really good. Really, really good. Please watch it. You won't be disappointed. It's about 20 minutes long.

***

Ok, now that you've watched it, there are a lot of things I can say about Lynette's ideas in this talk.

Early step in an icon I wrote under expert tutelage, Spring 2010

For one, the simple fact that she's discovered such a valid and interesting analogy between the tech world and the Orthodox faith makes me feel less alone in the fact that I make sense out of things in the tech world using my faith, and things in my faith using things from the tech world, all the time. It's a constant mode of understanding the world around me that runs in my mind, and it's very cool to encounter another woman who sees things similarly in this respect.

Gold leaf added (though we didn't use clay as shown in video)

Second, the content of the talk is actually exactly what I'm writing my term paper on right now. More specifically, when Lynette talks about reason and rationality (as represented by the original IBM DOS computers) as opposed to our "noetic faculties" (which is what Jobs taps into when his company created the first GUI: graphical user interface), this is precisely the ratio/intellectus dichotomy I am exploring in my paper, as two different modes of knowing that together enable us to have knowledge. Furthermore, in my Masters thesis I will be using the ratio/intellectus framework (and its many other sibling-concepts, like work/rest, time/eternity, logos/nous, logic/love) to better understand the Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom. After watching this talk, I am already dreaming up ways of incorporating this TEDx talk into my thesis, likely as a way to relate these heady concepts to the everyday.

Finished Icon of the Mother of God "Sweet Kissing"

And third, when Lynette goes into the stuff about the different ways we learn, and the fact that logic is not necessarily what is deepest in us as humans, but rather (again) our "noetic faculties," I immediately thought of a parallel in the library world as well. Until the past decade, online library catalogs (OPACs) relied on what is called Boolean operators in order to build a search query that is focused and specific to the researcher's information need. More recently, though, the trend has moved away from Boolean searching and instead focused on---you guessed it---a more graphical, browsing-based search experience dubbed in the library world a "discovery" service, as opposed to a "search" query. We no longer search, we discover our information, or so the rhetoric goes. But if Lynette is correct, and I do believe she is, there is more than rhetoric involved in this move.

Can it be that discovery services in libraries are tapping into our noetic faculties?

Besides the fact that I get a real kick out of having just written that sentence, I think the answer may just be "Yes."

A lot more can be developed here, but since I have to go write that term paper, for now I need to end my response to the video here.

If you watched the video (and I hope you did!), what did you take from it?

H/T to Orthodox Arts Journal for the video.

Happening Now (With an Excursus on Nicknames)

The Bookie's* baptism is this Saturday. She'll be wearing her daddy's baptismal gown. This makes me oh so happy. 

*So, nicknames have a funny way of asserting themselves, no matter one's original intent. While our daughter was fondly called Rosebud in utero, it turns out a new name has emerged for her on this side of the womb. She is The Bookie Schnookie (not to be confused with "Snooki"), alternately called The Bookie Schnooks, Bookus Schnookus, Bookster, Bookie, and simply Book. The origin is not related to the kind of "book" you read, but is rather born from the beautifully silly sing-songy nonsense that comes out of parents' mouths when they are blessed with a teeny tiny creature to take care of. Though being a librarian, I'm perfectly happy if that connection comes to mind. 

So, from here on out she will likely be referred to as Bookie (or one of the variations noted) on the blog. You've been warned. :)

Nursing Necklace

So, I have a mondo post in draft, which is close to being done...but not quite there yet. But something else came up that I'd like to quickly post about, because it combines a few things that are really important to me right now, and also gives me an excuse to link to a really awesome, new (to me) blog that is becoming one of my favorite spots on the interwebs these days.

I'll start with the blog... So, remember everyone's favorite quirky 90s television teen, Blossom? Well, it turns out that the actress who played her, Mayim Bialik, has grown up into one of the coolest people around, by my standards at least. She has a PhD in Neuroscience, has written a book about parenting based on her scientific knowledge as well as her own experience mothering her two sons, and has returned to acting in her role as a quirky female scientist and nerdy love interest to one of the main characters [that link is a YouTube clip of the show featuring Mayim's character] on the prime time TV show The Big Bang Theory, for which she is currently nominated for an Emmy. In addition to all of this, Mayim is also a practicing and devout Jew, who takes her Jewish faith very seriously. She blogs at a website called Kveller: A Jewish Twist on Parenting, which means her blog is about a combination of being Jewish, being a parent, and inevitably, being a working actress, and what happens when you combine all these things into one full, wonderful life. (Sound familiar?)

If I sound a bit like I'm gushing, it's because I am. Now, I'm not Jewish, and I don't watch The Big Bang Theory, but I did watch Blossom growing up, I am an academic (and being a PhD in Neuroscience, arguably so is she), and most importantly in this case, I am also a new mother who takes her faith very seriously. And by the way, Orthodox Christianity and Judaism share many of the same values, not to mention thousands of years of history and tradition (leading up to Christ). So, while Mayim and I don't agree about who Jesus Christ is, there is more common ground between us than one may initially think. Which is to say, her blog covers a lot of topics that are important to me right now, having to do with faith, family and work life. So, I am likely to link to it here from time to time...like I'm about to do now.

In one of her recent posts, Mayim shares what it is like getting ready for the Emmy awards ceremony. If you go give it a quick read, you'll see first of all why I love this lady so much: the post is about finding a modest but flattering dress for the ceremony. For an actress in Hollywood to care about such things is pretty awesome if you ask me. Furthermore, the reason for her caring is tied to her faith--extra points from me for that! But the part of the post that got me thinking and then acting in like manner recently was the bit about wearing something around her neck to represent her Jewish faith:

As I considered the dress, my thoughts invariably turned toward my neck. Why? Because I try and wear a Jewish star around my neck anytime I’m in public, or private for that matter. I like publicly identifying as a Jewish person by adorning my neck with the Star of David. It’s kind of my thing. With all due respect to stylist Ali, she doesn’t always feel my Jewish star necklace “goes” with every outfit and I had a feeling the Emmys would be one of those nights that she would say my Jewish star doesn’t “go” with the outfit.

In the end, Mayim and her stylist agreed upon a different Jewish symbol for Mayim to wear around her neck on Emmy night: a mezuzah. So, ok, interesting, but you're probably wondering what this has to do with me.

Well, last week I made the decision to stop wearing my necklace which is made of metal (gold) and holds two things precious to me: the cross, and my wedding band. I have worn a cross around my neck ever since I became an Orthodox Christian. And my wedding band, well, that's pretty self-explanatory, but the reason it is on a chain around my neck is because my hands are still a bit swollen from water retention due to my pregnancy, and the band doesn't fit me at the moment.

The reason I stopped wearing the necklace is because of my baby. I often hold her against my chest, and the cross is too sharp for comfort since sometimes her face smacks against me when I am hoisting her up or when she is making it clear she is hungry. In addition, she is now grabbing at my shirt and whatever is in reach while nursing and being held (which is so adorable by the way), which means she could yank the chain and I could lose my wedding band as well as the cross. For these reasons, I have decided not to wear my metal jewelry around my neck as long as she is still nursing, which could be for a while, God willing.

I am surviving with my wedding band stored away in a safe place, since I have a Claddagh ring that does fit on my left ring finger which I can wear in the meantime to signify that I am very much "taken" by my husband. But the absence of the cross, while not such a big deal for me, bothers me for the sake of my daughter. She spends so much time at my breast, and I liked the idea of her seeing and touching the cross while she is there. I want her to be familiar with it on an intimate level, as it is the symbol of our Christian faith, but I also don't want its presence to be dangerous for her, as the gold cross is since it is so sharp and could scratch her while she is snuggling against me.

So, the solution? A cross made of cord instead of metal, of course! I happened to own one already that is just the right size, which I picked up at a monastery at some point over the past few years. So I went digging for it yesterday and, thankfully, found it. While it was not made to be a nursing necklace, per say, I am using it as one so my daughter knows the cross from her infancy. And while its black color and starkness is rather more ascetic than aesthetic, parenting is by far one of the most ascetic endeavors I have ever embarked upon, and so its character as such seems fitting.

Leavetakings

Today is the Apodosis, or Leavetaking of Pascha, the Feast of Feasts. It is also two days after another leavetaking in my life: The End Of The Semester I wrote longingly of three weeks ago while still in the midst of the Paschal feast. It's interesting that, the first leavetaking is one I am sad to see arrive, while the second is one I am thrilled is finally here. Such is life I guess--to everything its season.

And speaking of seasons, during the past three weeks I also transitioned into my third trimester. Fascinatingly, everything about my pregnancy thus far has been "textbook" in that my experience seems to be matching the "average" experience generally described in pregnancy books. Overall, this makes me incredibly grateful, since it means my baby is healthy and developing exactly as she should be, and it also means the oddball things I am going through are perfectly normal and to be expected. Thank God for both those things. What this also means, though, is that my third trimester is hitting me hard--way harder than I expected, no matter what the pregnancy books say. I offer as evidence the following story, which will also make it clear why posting to my blog these past few weeks was next to impossible...

***

At the beginning of the Spring semester (which just ended) I received the syllabus for my Old Testament Exegesis course. In it, I learned what our final term paper assignment would be. I could tell immediately that it would be intense, but I also saw our professor had great foresight and built into the semester check-in points regarding the paper, so there was no way we could reach the last two weeks of the course without having done some substantial work on the paper already. My experience with this paper was a roller-coaster, to put it mildly: I went from being pumped about the initial research I was able to get done on it, to mid-semester having a bit of a meltdown (at home, in the supportive presence of my loving husband) about feeling totally lost regarding what we were being asked to do for it. The meltdown had both physical and mental repercussions (which I soon recovered from), resulting in my actually skipping a class meeting for the sake of recovering. To be honest, it largely came down to putting way too much pressure on myself--something I tend to do anyway, but doing so while in the hormonal throes of pregnancy = a recipe for disaster. I resolved to make an appointment to meet with my professor in order to discuss the paper, and basically tell him I needed help and direction because I felt utterly lost. (Ah, humility, glad to see you again.)

That meeting, which occurred at the very end of April, went quite well. My professor helped clarify aspects of my topic that were throwing me for a loop (and thus making me feel like an idiot), and ultimately told me he wasn't worried about where I was with the paper, that I had things more under control than I thought. So, that was very encouraging, and it left me with almost three weeks to write the paper in time for its May 18th deadline. So, one week went by...and I had library-related projects that needed my attention that week. Another week went by...and our final exam was coming up and I needed to spend the bulk of my time studying for it. And suddenly it was the third week, and I had a handful of days to actually write the paper.

Now, under different circumstances than those I found myself in, I can take a set of 3-5 days and knock out a 12-page paper (double spaced), assuming I have done some research/prep work on the paper already (which I had). But remember how I noted that over the past three weeks I also transitioned into my third trimester? Here are some things this has meant for me:

• muscles I didn't know I had are aching
• I have to do everything--everything--slower than usual, from standing up to opening the door to getting settled prior to commencing a new task like, say, writing a paper
• my balance is off, since I am carrying around more weight than this body ever has in its 28 years on this earth
• sleeping at night is getting harder--for instance, I have to go to the bathroom several times each night, so I don't get a truly full night's sleep anymore
• my hands and feet fall asleep fairly regularly, but especially when I've been sitting for long periods of time--oh, like, for example, while trying to write a paper
• by midday I have heartburn that sticks around until the end of the day unless I take something for it (which I do--thank you Zantac)
• the baby is kicking up a storm, which is both awesome but also a bit hard on the muscles and organs around her, especially when trying to concentrate on something other than my body--like, say, writing a paper (observing a theme here?)

Now, it's worth noting again that, thankfully, I and the baby are both healthy. So the above experiences, while challenging for a first-time pregnant mother who is used to moving through life at a pretty fast pace, are thankfully not at the level of indicating anything being seriously wrong. They are just par for the course...and though I read about most of these prior to reaching my third trimester, I was naive enough to think maybe I'd be able to duck and dodge a few of them. Ha, yea right. 

But what it does mean is, there was no way I was going to finish that paper in the 3-5 days I allotted for it. Talk about a hard pill to swallow for an over-achiever like yours truly. So my mental process last week, when those 3-5 days occurred, went something like this:

"Ok, right now I'm going to tightly outline and then write the first section of the paper using all these great sources I've collected." 

---after getting all my sources arrayed around me, and the document up on the screen in front of me--- 

"Man, I'm tired. Ok, now it's time to really begin what I said I was gonna do. Let's do this." 

---after having accomplished a bit of good work, but nowhere near even half done with the first section of the paper--- 

"Oh my goodness I can't feel my feet."

---freaking out for a moment, then standing and walking around to get the feeling back, only to realize I'm either hungry or need to use the bathroom or both, so I go and do those...20 minutes go by before I return to the computer---

"Ok, let's pick up where I left off..."

---by now I'm utterly exhausted but determined to try, only then the baby starts to kick---

"Babygirl I love you dearly and I've been waiting for you to kick like this for months, but please, can you be calm for just a little while so I can get some work done???"

---she cheerefully ignores my request---

"Sigh. I am horrible at life." [NOTE: this is where the mental process becomes irrational and clearly influenced by my hormones.]

---I proceed to stare into space, on the verge of tears because I feel like half the scholar I used to be---

By this time, it's pointless trying to get any more work done on the paper, and usually it required that my husband come get me out of my funk by assuring me this irrational conclusion I had arrived at was a lie. I'd then proceed to put all my books away and move on to something that made me feel less useless. The process then turned into a sad, hard-to-break cycle when, after rest and rejuvenation, I decided to try to get more work done on the paper, set yet another impossible-to-meet goal (because I'm stubborn and hard-headed), and commenced with the above process yet again...

Needless to say, I did not meet the May 18th deadline, but luckily my professor was very understanding and gave me until as close to the grade submission deadline as possible to get it to him. That gave me the equivalent of three more days (i.e., this past weekend). Well, I am happy to report that, at 12:30 pm on Monday, I was able to give him something he could grade in time to post my grade to the registrar's grading system. 

Thus was the Leavetaking of my Spring semester. And thank God for it.

*** 

At one point (well, on May 13th) amid all of this hubbub, though, I celebrated my first Mother's Day as a mother. (N.B. Anyone who reads the above and somehow can't see that carrying my little one around right now, while keeping myself healthy and sane for her sake, is a good example of what it means to be a mother, is out of touch with reality...). And since I like to include at least one picture with each of my posts, here's a shot of me that Paul took on Mother's Day, which was the day before my third trimester began.

The third trimester (or thereabouts) doesn't look quite as hard from this angle, does it? 

First Mother's Day, 29 Weeks
Me and my babygirl :)
(who, by the way, I love more dearly than
any paper or class or grade)

A Paschal Picture Post

Way too much has been going on with me lately. I haven't been able to keep up, let alone reflect on it. I've had a few moments over the past few weeks where I needed to take a step back from my figurative "plate" (which is overfull at the moment), so as to avoid burnout. I'm at that point in the academic year where I'm aiming longingly and determinedly toward The End Of The Semester. (3 weeks...just 3 more weeks...)

So, in lieu of a detailed post about the content of my work and/or home life, I am going to share pictures and a video (!!!--big deal for me, that.) which document this Paschal season for me. I posted last on Great and Holy Friday, with pictures of our just-then-blooming tulips. The next day, which was Holy Saturday, our tulips finally opened up! Well, a few of them anyway...

Ready to greet Christ's Resurrection...

Opening up toward the sun.

That same morning, I sang at Vesperal Divine Liturgy for Holy Saturday, where the plashchanitsa was still out from the night before, and remained so until that evening at Paschal Nocturnes. Parishes traditionally decorate the plashchanitsa (epitaphios in the Greek tradition, and referring to the shroud that has depicted on it an icon of Christ asleep in death) with flowers--the result is meant to bring to mind Christ laid in the tomb. Here is ours:

All Saints Orthodox Church, Olyphant, PA,
Holy Saturday 2012 --
I love how vibrant the flowers were this year :)

I also attempted to capture some audio (via video) of our church choir singing the absolutely beautiful Paschal hymns. For any readers who are unfamiliar with Orthodox Christian worship, in Orthodoxy the choir helps pray the service with the clergy (on behalf of the people), and all of the music is traditionally sung a cappella. Being an Orthodox choir singer is one of the things that is fundamental to who I am--it is that important to me--the role it plays for me is bigger than I can adequately describe, in terms of keeping my sanity in this life. 

Today, I managed to upload one of the videos (which again is really just audio, as the video's image is of our choir loft ceiling) to my YouTube account--an account which until now I only had by virtue of being a user of Google products. On the tech side of things, I feel very accomplished! This is my first video upload ever to the interwebs...long overdue, no doubt. The piece in the video is the 9th Ode of the Canon for Matins of Holy Saturday...I know, that's a mouthful! Put more simply, it's one of the brief but utterly beautiful hymns that captures the Paschal spirit so well. It is a hymn to the Mother of God, written from the perspective of her Son who is now (at this point in Holy Week) laid in the tomb. Anyway, I'll let the words speak for themselves, but here is a video containing audio of my church choir singing this piece, often referred to by its first line, "Do not lament me, O Mother" (I am singing soprano/melody in this recording...it was a small group that morning, so it may just be me on soprano, I can't quite remember now. The words of the piece are typed out in this post just below the video.):

Do not lament me, O Mother, 

seeing me in the tomb, 

thy son conceived in the womb without seed, 

for I shall arise 

and be glorified with eternal glory as God. 

I shall exalt all who magnify you in faith and in love.

So, that was Holy Saturday. Then came Pascha! Yay! I have no pictures of that celebration, but suffice it to say, it was a beautiful occasion.

Bright Week (the week immediately following Pascha) was truly bright in that the sun came out and stayed out for most of it! Which meant the entire tulip bed woke up, their little heads lifting themselves up to the sunlight (fitting, no?).

Bright Thursday: click on it to see it enlarged--it's worth it :)

And they've been open ever since, though my husband tells me their time may be coming to an end, as early spring transitions into mid/late spring in our neck of the woods (God willing this week, in terms of temps at least!). This afternoon I did get two more pretty shots of our other tulip bed--this one devoted to red lovelies, right by our flag pole. The afternoon light lit them up so beautifully today...

My husband has a good eye--these are so picturesque placed like this.
And note the other tulip bed in the background on the left--
bright happy blooms, even in the shade.

I didn't edit this photo at all. They really are this vibrant, even more so if
you click to enlarge. :)

So, even if these tulips go soon, for now they somehow help me participate more fully in the Paschal season, which lasts for 40 days after the great feast itself (which for us this year fell on April 15th). 

That's it for flower images from me, for the time being. Before I end this post, it occurred to me, as I was describing earlier how important to me church choir singing is, that today is also my 7th (liturgical) anniversary since joining the Orthodox Church. I was Chrismated into the Orthodox Church on the Feast of the Holy Myrrhbearers in 2005. As I posted to Facebook today, that moment was a paradigm shift in my little corner of the universe if there ever was one. And, in the spirit of this post, here's a picture from that day 7 years ago:

Cathedral of the Holy Virgin Protection, NYC
(my first parish home)
Feast of the Holy Myrrhbearers 2005

Now I need to go and get mentally ready to face the week. (3 more weeks...just 3 more weeks...)

But, as it's still Pascha (yay for feasts that last 40 days!), and I need to remember this as I face the stress of another over-crammed week (Aside: I will likely reread this post throughout the week as a reminder of beautiful, green, vibrant, melodic, uplifting things.), the only appropriate way to end this post is to say, again:

Christ is Risen!!!