You should always have a dollar, because you never know when you’re gonna want a Snickers bar.

–Ray Wallace

Jesus used to hang out by lakes a lot. And who can blame him? Middle of the palestinian desert. About a thousand degrees. Whether you were a fisherman or not, I imagine the Sea of Galilee would’ve been the place to be on a hot first century day.

In addition to liking lakes, Jesus also had a predilection for making a point, often in a none too straightforward way. He’s out one day in a boat with Simon (soon-to-be-Peter), and Simon’s probably been talking. Again. This time he’s complaining about the fishing. Empty nets. Waste of a day. Not a single catch.

So Jesus grins and says, “Uh, let’s pull out a bit farther, into deeper water. Then try putting the nets out again. Who knows.”

And in his typical fashion, Simon says, “Master. You are aware we haven’t caught anything. All day. Not one Galilean fish. Zero. Zilch. And I’ve never caught anything this late in the day in a lifetime of fishing this lake, BUT, since you say so, I’m going to sail all the way out, and put my nets all the way down again, cuz hey, you say I should.”

The smugness melts somewhere around the moment when a huge haul of fish almost sinks the boat. And in true Peter fashion, he is then genuinely astonished, and humbles himself before Jesus, kneeling and saying, “Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!”

I think he meant what he said when he told the man he had so recently called “Master” to leave him. And Jesus knew he meant it, and he knew why.

Then Jesus said to Simon, “Don’t be afraid…”

Whether it’s our first brush with God or our hundredth, fear is a sensible reaction. The God of the Universe can playfully commandeer your fishing boat or tap you on the shoulder and ask if perhaps you wouldn’t like to travel halfway round the world for him and suddenly life shifts. Which is why maybe faith and terror and joy are the same thing sometime. Peter had religical words, claimed to be a sinner and maybe hoped to be off the hook, but Jesus saw his heart, comforted it, and offered instead to let Peter live the rest of his earthly days engaged in the most radical adventure ever conceived by God or man.

He was human to be afraid. He was wise to follow.

Then Jesus said to Simon, “Don’t be afraid; from now on you will catch men.” So they pulled their boats up on shore, left everything and followed him.

In the year that king Uzziah died I saw also the LORD sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and his train filled the temple.

Above it stood the seraphims: each one had six wings; with twain he covered his face, and with twain he covered his feet, and with twain he did fly.

And one cried unto another, and said, Holy, holy, holy, is the LORD of hosts: the whole earth is full of his glory. Isa 6:1-3

Holy, holy, holy. In this hymn, the Hebrew word qadhosh is translated into the latin sanctus, or holy. And what does it mean to be holy? That which must be preserved whole or intact, that cannot be transgressed or violated. That which is set apart, and consecrated for a specific purpose. That which is bound, protected and ordained by oath.

And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul. Gen 2:7

That which animates us is the very breath of God, and to treat life as a thing of low value, is to treat God–his spirit, and his gift of life–as a thing of low value.

But so what? How does this inform daily life? Jason raises the issue of blood donation, sperm donation, buying and selling human ova. How does the Judeo-Christian concept of holiness, or sanctity, impact our view of the treatment of life in these and other such situations?

which in English means, “I believe in order that I may understand.” (St. Augustine)

I’ve been researching latin phrases in order that I might find something suitable for a graduation gift Paul is preparing for me: a personalized embosser which would allow me to identify all the books in my library as mine. The above quote, while not fit for a library embosser, is an interesting one. It represents St. Augustine’s general philosophic approach, namely, that it is faith which is the gateway to understanding, and not the reverse. And perhaps a key consideration here is one’s definition of faith. Someone more learned than I might possibly wish to summarize Augustine’s particular definition of faith, but my own definition is something like ‘trust in action.’ (My college professors would have me remember that the word for faith (’pistis’) is in fact a verb). In my own life, understanding has so often followed, rather than preceded, trust/faith, that I confess I must agree with Augustine. Insight into God’s purposes comes, when it does come, often long after the initial trusting step. As Doug once suggested to me, God’s will is primarily discerned in hindsight, and it is a gift to be able to perceive it, but a trial to await perception.

Just the sort of thoughts inspired by coming to the end of a journey (and Diner conversations with Robert).

Funny funny episode. Seriously Lindsay.

I’m about to print out a finalish version of my diss to send to the style editor. That’s kind of a big deal. I’m toasting the occasion with a glass of Australian Shiraz/Cabernet blend. It’s mellow, rounded bouquet perfectly complements the velvety, vigorousness of this vintage occasion. I don’t know what that means either.

I went to Wal-Mart twice today, and it’s not even my birthday.

New Masterpiece Theater series (Cranford) starts tonight. I’m betting it should be WELL worth your viewership. Two hour episodes start tonight, and run on the next two coming Sundays.

Thanks to Lori and Angelo for their visit and good company this weekend. We went to China Camp because Mexico had moved into our Creole restaurant.

If you want to come to a graduation type event, let me know. Actual grad day requires entry passes (for family members only) and showing up without said passes will probably result in your standing on the hot pavement outside a large Congregational Church. But if you want to come to a hooding ceremony (which will be more enjoyable and definitely smaller, as it is just for school of psych) on Fri 6/13, let me know ASAP, so I can RSVP.

It’s about 100 degrees outside. Which reminds me, we gotta go visit Mike and Danielle.

It’s Sunday and, despite my more diligent intentions, I spent the week relaxing. Been getting lots of sleep, but still sleepy. The last seven years have taken a bit of a toll. But it’s almost over.

This means your opportunity to visit us in sunny San Diego is almost over, so come grab some free floor space and personal tours while they’re good for the getting.

Happiest of Birthdays to Raymond (63 going on 19).

Jason said he was going to make a sign that said “D” and bring a piece of fence to my defense. I thought that was clever.

Defense is over. 2 months more of internship and they give me a doctorate. Turns out people are hiring out their revisions, so that’s what I’m gonna do. Many many thanks to those who attended today — it was awesome to have backup, and nice to share a celebratory margarita.

Grad school, thy days art numbered.

I’d like to try an experiment with those of you willing to devote a few minutes of time. Please pray for the woman at my Seminary-which-shall-remain-nameless who is responsible for editing thousands of pages of copy and on whose dedication about 40 students’ graduation plans rest. I have a friend who’s been going through the revision process for almost a year now. I haven’t even started. So pray hard, and I’ll remind you to continue.

That’s all I need for now. Thanks for reading. Thanks to the dedicated bloggers who’ve been writing great stuff lately. I look forward to having the time to comment.

Something like rum. MMMmmmm. Kidding Linz.

So instead of working on my dissertation defense, I’m posting to you people. And so, a few thank you’s.

Thanks to Rachel for enlightening me about Mexican culture. Jew are a good friend.

Thanks to Nathan and Stacie for letting me hold their newborn son for most of Saturday. PS, my arms/shoulders are still sore.

Thanks to the proprietors of Chez Wallace for their hospitality for the last bizillion weekends, and next weekend too.

Thanks to Mom and Dad, who have bought us a lot of food over the past few weeks. Pop’s Cafe to Macaroni Grill (or The MoGo) to homemade Shish-keee-baabs. I’ve enjoyed every bite.

Thanks to Paul for making my dissertation programs. The following is what was printed on the back of the programs distributed to faculty notifying them of my dissertation defense this Monday:

Acknowledgements

Many thanks to my committee members, Drs. Brown, Paul and Hart, for their dedication and saintly patience in seeing this project through to completion. I am grateful to my consultant, Andrew Charlton, whose programming genius is singularly responsible for my results section’s existence. Thanks also to those family members and friends who have been willing to listen to me dissertate on the wonders of psychophysiological research over the past three years. Their most gracious support has not gone unnoticed.

About the Author

When not composing lengthy scholastic documents about experiments wherein the experimenters were allowed to put electrodes and wires all over the faces of nice people, the author may typically be found reading works of British fiction on sunlit California beaches while eating chocolate. She also plays the piano badly, but expects the occasion of her graduation to free up valuable piano-practicing and novel-reading time, which has heretofore been lamentably scanty, although perhaps not as scanty as a truly rigorous academic schedule should necessitate.