First Snow and Old Controversies

Yesterday I took a break from relentless bad news, the kind of news that feels familiar because we've been here before:  books banned, authors removed from curriculum, the New College of Florida being eviscerated by the governor.  I knew lots of Florida people who taught in the humanities, and we were always in awe and envious of the New College--a liberal arts college that is somehow also a state university?  Where can we sign up?  Now I'm glad that I never got a job there; it would be heartbreaking to witness the changes up close.  Yesterday's news was of the school's president being forced out.

I turned away from my computer to take a walk in the snow before it disappeared.  It was really just a light dusting, but it was pretty:

It was the best kind of snow, the kind that doesn't destroy morning commutes, the kind that will melt before it mingles with dirt and dog poo.

I walked through neighborhood streets, and I heard more than one squeal of delight from a child waiting to get into the car to be taken to school.  I saw one child lick the side of the car; I'm not criticizing, since I was tempted to do the same thing to my own car, which has never sat under this much snow:

As I was getting back from my walk, some of my fellow students were coming outside to take pictures.  I made this Facebook post:  "One of my fellow seminarians is from the Democratic Republic of Congo, and this morning's light dusting of snow is the first he's ever seen. He said, "How long will it last?" I said, "This will be gone by noon." He was so enchanted by the snow and so sad to hear that it won't be here with us for very long."

I stayed inside, working on my Luther paper.  We had a water outage from 9 to noon, so I didn't bake, but I did vacuum.  One of the benefits of living alone is realizing how much even just one person tracks through the house, even if that person is careful.  Vacuuming is a site of resentment for me, and the one chore I hate the most.  I do love a freshly vacuumed floor.

In the late afternoon, I had a face to face meeting with the communications committee of Wesley's student council; it's a committee of three.  We got the business done, and then we lingered in the fading light of the afternoon, in the empty Refectory which is not used the way it once was.  We talked about seminary stuff, future of the church stuff, all the topics I love.

After supper, I had a Zoom call to help plan the Create in Me retreat.  It was good to be with old friends in that virtual space.

This morning I'm still seeing all the people getting all worked up on social media about the AP kerfuffle over the new African American history class and which authors have been removed.  I am old enough to remember when K-12 curriculum was shaped overtly by the state of Texas, who bought the lion's share of textbooks and thus could force changes.  I remember reading banned books, like Gone with the Wind, and wondering what all the fuss was about.  These things go in cycles.  Once it tired me more than it does.  Not for the first time do I think about Hegel and dialectics and marvel at Hegel's analytical skills.

But now I must return to an even older controversy:  Luther's idea of sacraments.  It's a controversy so old that it has ceased to affect anyone.  There's a lesson here beyond the one of sacraments.