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| Back when I was in middle school, I was prone (as perhaps most girls that age are) to develop crushes on just about anyone. It didn't matter if I didn't stand a chance with that particular person; I would develop the crush anyway. For the time when the crush was active, I would daydream about my crush, doodle the initials of my crush on the margins of my notepaper, gaze dreamily at my crush, and try in my most pathetic middle schooler-esque way to be cute and flirtatious. (There is a social critique of a 12-13 year old feeling the need to be flirty just waiting to be written, but that will have to wait for another day.) These crushes would come and go, but while they were around, they were just about all I could think about.
I am now older and (hopefully) wiser than I was in middle school, but that doesn't mean that the crush phenomenon has disappeared. No, I still get crushes, but these days they tend to be crushes on scholars. The thing is, I don't think that I'm alone in this. I've chatted with other academically-minded folks about the Scholar Crush, and I have heard others admit to having their own crushes. So, in the interest of being forthright about the scholars whose initials I would doodle on my papers if I were still in middle school, I present to you......
Melly's List of Scholar Crushes!
1--Dale Martin. There are some books that have the power to change lives. Martin's Sex and the Single Savior changed mine. When I graduated from college, the college library gave us the option to choose a book in which they would place a commemorative plate in our honor. I chose Sex and the Single Savior. (For those who may still be around Messiah College, go to Murray Library and find the book. My name is in it.) Why was that book so life-changing for me? Well, it gave me the freedom to realize that what I thought was a clearly black-and-white picture in the Bible was far more gray. That freedom, in turn, helped me to reconcile the importance I saw in both the biblical text and in the fair and equal treatment of the LGBTQ community.
2--Stephen Moore. Ok, folks, this one is the worst of all my scholar crushes. It ranks right up there with the worst of my middle school crushes. At the annual meetings of the Society of Biblical Literature, I will quite literally follow him from session-to-session. This past November, I showed up bright and early for a session at which I knew he would be presenting. When he came in a few minutes later, he greeted me by name. I got butterflies in my stomach that rivaled the worst butterflies I ever got as a middle-schooler. It was pathetic, but I can't help it. His research interests, his scholarship, his prose, pretty much everything that makes him a scholar makes me lustfully hope that I can be like him when I grow up.
3--Tina Pippin. This is another one that borders on the embarrassing. I quite literally stalked this poor woman around the book sale at an SBL conference and then proceeded to run after her once she completed her conversation with another person. So why my love for this one? Well, Pippin is so positively delightful and crazy and provocative all at once, that I can't help but admire her for her spunk and willingness to push the envelope as far as it will possibly go. Her twin concerns for scholarship and activism are incredibly inspiring, and her ability to step outside of the confines of the Ivory Tower to actually do something is just the model for what I want to be able to do with my life as well.
4--Elisabeth Schussler Fiorenza. I feel like I hardly need to justify this one. I mean what female biblical scholar hasn't crushed on ESF at some point in her scholarly career? Her CV is 62 pages long. How can any scholar worth her scholarly salt not look at that and drool? It would hardly be an overstatement to say that ESF's many, many, many contributions to biblical scholarship have radically changed the field of study. She has opened doors and been a pioneer in paving the way for women to become respected contributors to biblical studies. Now that is sexy.
I could undoubtedly list many others who would likely qualify as my scholarly crushes, but these are perhaps the biggest ones. Will I ever tell any of the folks on this list that their scholarship makes me weak in the knees? No, probably not (unless of course they find their way here on their own). But, I would like to think that there is something to the process of acknowledging our Scholar Crushes. I believe that especially for young scholars, it is important to recognize others who are doing the sorts of things that we envision ourselves one day doing and to emulate their practices as we work on developing our own. So, Scholar Crushes, thank you. Thank you for inspiring me on this journey of becoming a biblical scholar. Your insights, words, and research have given me the impetus to follow my own dreams.
So, who are your Scholar Crushes?
~Melly~ *with scholarly love*
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| I'm a pretty bizarre individual. A few years ago, in a fit of desperation, I tried to sign up for eHarmony.com. Yes, you read that correctly: tried to sign up, as in, attempted and failed. Apparently I am such a bizarre individual that after taking their extensive relationship questionnaire, I was notified that I was not qualified to partake of their services since I didn't seem to fit into any of their boxes for what most people are like. Even a computer program thinks I'm a little kooky. So, as such a strange person, equally unusual things tend to capture my attention and be a source of enjoyment for me.
Among my other sources of enjoyment has always been the liturgical season of Advent. The combination of the inevitable march toward Christmas and the liturgical practice of lighting candles (because, hey, who doesn't like playing with fire?!?!) makes for an all-around fantastic time of the year. But after listening to yesterday's lectionary texts (Isaiah 40:1-11 and Mark 1:1-8) and a fantastic sermon at Kingston United Methodist Church, it occurred to me that perhaps another element of Advent that makes it so appealing to me is how bizarre it is.
In both the Isaiah and Mark texts from yesterday, the imperative to prepare the way of the Lord in the wilderness is voiced. I've heard this exhortation a million times, but it never occurred to me until yesterday just how ridiculous it really is. In the wilderness, prepare the way of the Lord. Go out to the middle of the Sahara desert, and prepare the Lord's way there. Head on down to Antarctica to get started on a highway for Yahweh. Mosey on out to the Outback and start a big construction project. This is sheer craziness. Walmart isn't building stores on top of Mt. Everest. No, civilizations build up where the people are.
So, what in the world do we make of this command to prepare the way of the Lord in the wilderness? Well, for starters, I think it cautions us against buying into a Walmart mentality. Good capitalism rarely makes for good followers of Christ. But moreover, I wonder if this admonition is meant to foreshadow the absurdity of incarnation. After all, deities don't dwell with humans. Everyone knows that Zeus lives on Mount Olympus, not in Billy Joe's backyard. But the story of Jesus' birth and the miracle of Incarnation that it signifies make exactly the opposite claim! Not only is the realm of the divine breaking into that of the human, but the divine is actually becoming human and setting up camp in the wilderness that is human existence. This is absurdity at its height. Thus, perhaps the bizarre entreaty to prepare the way of the Lord in the wilderness is a call to be aware that this Lord does not play by the rules of common sense. No, this Lord is an eccentric, wild, and deeply passionate God who will stop at nothing to show love to the most unusual of objects: humans.
This Advent season, may we go and do likewise. May we love the unlovely, remember the forgotten, and prepare the way of the Lord in the wildernesses around us.
~Melly~ *bizarrely*
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| Growing up as the only child of a single parent, I had certain expectations for how the days around Thanksgiving would unfold. The day after Thanksgiving was always the day to decorate for Christmas. This morning, I dutifully followed in the steps of that tradition by hauling out all of the meager and horribly mismatched Christmas decorations that can fit in our very tiny apartment. Unlike Christmas decorating in a house, Christmas decorating in an apartment takes far less time and is, unfortunately, a bit less joyful than its larger-scale counterpart. Nonetheless, I talways enjoy this occasion to decorate for the upcoming holiday.
In addition to the decorate-the-day-after-Thanksgiving tradition, in my early teens, my mom and I developed the equally delightful tradition of going to Old Country Buffet for our Thanksgiving feast. Now before you begin to feel sorry for the poor widow and her young daughter being forced to engage in the ultimate Thanksgiving blasphemy of eating dinner at a restaurant, you must know that both of us were positively delighted to make this a Thanksgiving tradition. It preserved everything good for us about the day (e.g. spending time with each other, eating lots of really good food, etc.) and eliminated everything not-as-enjoyable about the day (e.g. making awkward conversation with little-known relatives, preparing food, doing dishes, cleaning, etc.). In short, going out for Thanksgiving dinner at Old Country Buffet became a source of excitement for us as we anticipated the autumnal holiday.
Since being married, Jeremiah and I have yet to fully develop our own set of Thanksgiving traditions. This was our fourth married Thanksgiving together, and I think we have yet to do the same thing on any given Thanksgiving. So, this year, finding ourselves without the time to justify the journey back to parents and other family for the day, we opted for a quiet day by ourselves with a nod to my own Thanksgiving tradition of going out for dinner at Old Country Buffet. Little did we know that we were signing up for dinner and a show.
Picture this: Jeremiah and I are seated in a booth with an older couple (estimated 60s-70s) seated in the booth behind me. Somewhere around our second helpings, the gentleman (and I use that term loosely) returns to his seat and announces rather loudly to the woman "I just had a great time in the bathroom!" Jeremiah and I glance at each other trying to stifle smirks. Little do we know that this man is just beginning. Immediately following this initial proclamation, he continues by assuaging any doubt that his first comment might be intended sarcastically, "No, really I did!" Another glance at Jeremiah. This time we are trying not to start giggling. But, this gentleman is still not finished. Oh no, instead he now seems to think that a little history is in order: "That was the third time this week!" Because Jeremiah is facing this table, he is now desperately trying to hide his face behind his hands so as to cover his very obviously bemused facial expression. I am attempting just as desperately to still my now shaking shoulders which are heaving with the laughter that I am trying to suppress. This glorious speech on the man's bathroom experience has been building to its grand and climactic conclusion: "I just feel so...cleansed!" Jeremiah's face gets buried further into his hands and my shoulders likely look like I am having a convulsion at this point. Fortunately for everyone involved, the couple stepped outside for a smoke break at this point which allowed Jeremiah and I to release the laughter that had been building throughout the entire monologue.
So, folks, the moral of this story is that the middle of a crowded restaurant on Thanksgiving day is perhaps not quite the appropriate venue for announcing your gastrointestinal status. Maybe dirty dishes and awkward conversations with Aunt Bertha are worth it after all.
~Melly~ *scarred by scatological statements*
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| To many people, reading such a detailed account of my marathon will be painfully boring. I get it. But in case there may actually be a few people who feel like torturing themselves with every pathetic detail, here you go:
Marathon morning I was up bright and early to eat a bit of breakfast and begin drinking lots of water. I figured that if I could go into the race well-hydrated, that would serve me well. I didn't actually get a chance to check the temperature for the day, but my hunch is that it never got over about 65-70. It was overcast all day as well which made for absolutely perfect running weather. I don't think that the sun came out once.
Jer and I got to the starting line in plenty of time. Seeing all the runners getting ready and stretching and whatnot made me start to think that I might be crazy for doing this. I commented to Jer, "They all look like real runners!" Jer was nice enough to respond, "So do you!" (Throughout the entire ordeal, I was incredibly happy to have Jer there.) As they started counting down the 10 seconds prior to the start of the race, I found myself getting inexplicably emotional and teary-eyed as it occurred to me that the moment that I had just spent the past several month working towards was finally here. Fortunately, after about 30 seconds, that passed and I was able pretty quickly to get in a good groove. My plan was to start pretty slowly so that I wouldn't tire myself out early on, and I felt like I did that fairly well. My fastest mile ended up being mile 4 (10:03), and for most of the race I averaged somewhere around a 10:30 to 11:30 minute/mile. During training, I had practiced taking several walking breaks to give myself a rest, but the only time during the whole race that I actually ended up doing anything but running was at about the halfway point when I stopped to use the bathroom before continuing on (and even then, I still finished that mile in a decent 10:54).
Just a few days before the race they had to re-route the first couple of miles due to some flooding concerns. The re-routing was all on roads, and I was not super thrilled about that. Actually, I think about the first 6-7 miles or so was completely on roads, but I honestly don't quite remember. It was amazing how quickly I forgot what I had just been running on. At a few points during the race I tried to remember where I had been at certain mile markers and how I had been feeling at those points, and for the life of me I discovered that I quite simply could not remember them. Maybe it was my brain's way of trying to block out the memories of running.
Throughout the course they had volunteers standing by to cheer the runners on, and at one point around mile 4 or so there were some volunteers cheering that we looked fantastic and had great form. Even that early in the race I knew that I really did not look all that fantastic, but it was nice to hear that anyway. It was also great having our names on our bibs because a lot of the volunteers would then cheer us on by name. It was a great rush hearing strangers calling to me "Good job, Melanie!" "You're doing great, Melanie!" That really helped.
There was also a relay option for the marathon so there were four checkpoints throughout the course where relay teams would change members and where spectators could come and cheer. I had given the list of checkpoints to Jer beforehand and told him to be sure to be there at each one (which itself turned into quite a feat because of all the traffic coming in and out of those points. Jer told me afterwards that there was one in particular that he was afraid he would end up missing me at. Fortunately, I'm a slow enough runner that it gave him plenty of time.) The first checkpoint was at mile 5.5. At that point I was still feeling really good (if unhappy with running so much on hard roads).
The next checkpoint was at mile 12, but the course actually did a big loop at that point so I got to see Jer twice: once as I came in at mile 12 and again at mile 13. When I came in to mile 12 I asked Jer if there were bathrooms nearby and he pointed out on the other side of the loop and told me to catch them when I made my way around there. So, he handed me my water bottle and told me he would meet me over on that side. Neither of us realized, though, that it was a 1 mile loop, so it took me a while to get back to him. At that point, it was mile 13, and I told him to text my mom (who was incredibly worried about this whole endeavor) to let her know that I had passed the 13 mile marker. I also glanced at my time and saw that I was at 2:23. It occurred to me that if I ran the second half as fast as I had just run the first half, I might actually stand a chance at being sub-5:00. I was well aware that the second half would be more brutal, but the thought of getting sub-5:00 stuck with me.
Unfortunately, I think I ended up psyching myself out about my time because the next leg of the race, up to the checkpoint at mile 16.8, was the worst one mentally. Timewise it wasn't too awful, but I felt like I was struggling more during those miles. Throughout the whole thing, though, I was determined to try to stay as far as possible from negative thoughts. I learned during training that the whole running thing is far more about my mental state than my physical abilities, so I knew that if I ended up dwelling on any negative thoughts, that would be my biggest downfall. So during those miles especially, I kept thinking about all the people who I knew were thinking about me and praying for me. I had run into our pastor and his wife Saturday morning, and he said that he would lift me up during the congregational prayers in church Sunday morning, so I reminded myself that I was being prayed for there as well as by my parents, relatives, friends, neighbors, etc.
It helped to know that I had people thinking about me given how solitary the whole experience was. During the entire race, I always had other runners in my view both in front of me and behind me (the few times that I glanced behind me to remind myself that I wasn't the last one), but despite being surrounded by other people, it was a lot of time to just spend by myself. I had encountered some of that during my long training runs, but it hit me especially hard during the race. It was really just me running against....me. I knew that I didn't want to waste energy trying to talk to other runners, but it was still kind of strangely lonely.
Before the race I had heard from a lot of veteran marathoners that "the marathon doesn't begin until mile 20." So, I was prepared for everything from mile 20 onward to be pretty brutal. I think it was around that point that I started worrying that I might have been over-hydrating. I had read during my training that rookie marathoners are more prone to over-hydrating (which dilutes the body's electrolytes and sodium and can be just as, if not more, dangerous that dehydration). With every step that I was taking for a while, I could actually hear the water in my stomach just sloshing back and forth and back and forth. I had been drinking a full cup of water at every water station (there were 16 water stations in total), and I really had no idea how many ounces I had actually consumed. Fortunately, the sloshing noises soon stopped, but I was still really craving some sort of carbs to soak up all that water.
Somewhere around mile 21.5 one of the runners must have been injured or something because there were a lot of volunteers around her and they were just sitting her down beside the path as I was passing by. As I came by, I saw that she was sobbing hysterically. The thing is, though, I don't think that she was crying so much from the pain as from disappointment. My heart just went out to her. I couldn't imagine making it that far in the race only to have to stop due to injury. Knowing how much training goes into running a marathon in addition to the actual practice of running the marathon, I couldn't imagine getting to mile 21.5 and having to stop due to an injury. Seeing that made me all the more grateful that as tired and sore as I was, I was actually not in any pain and was still trucking along.
The last checkpointwas at mile 22.6. It was really helpful to know that I would be getting towards the finish line by the next time that I saw Jer. Afterward, Jer told me that he almost did not make it to that checkpoint because of traffic. Needless to say, I was glad he made it there. It really made all the difference knowing that he would be waiting for me. I kept telling myself things like "I get to see Jer in just 1.5 miles!" He was such a good trooper.
Shortly after that checkpoint (I think around mile 23 or so) there was a huge hill. They had cheerleaders at the bottom of the hill (actually, there were a places along the course where they had high school cheerleaders cheering the runners on. That was kind of neat because they were super peppy and helpful), and I didn't realize until I got past the cheerleaders why they would feel it necessary to put them there. It was an absolutely brutal hill. Why oh why they would route the course to have a hill at mile 23 is just beyond me. I kept "running" up the hill, but as I told Jer, my pace was so slow that I think that even most elderly citizens could have outpaced me just walking. Thanks to the hill, mile 23 ended up being my slowest (11:56), but I was happy to still be under the 12:00 mark.
The last couple of miles are kind of a blur. I think I was mostly just in auto-pilot at that point. Shortly before mile 25 or so, there was one runner who began running beside me (and,who based on the pictures that I looked at afterwards, must have been near me the whole time as she is in a picture with me at the 5.5 mark and again at the 22.6 mark). She kept commenting on things to me, and though I didn't want to be rude, I really was not feeling like holding a conversation. I sort of grunted a few syllable to her, but at that point I was pretty out of it. In any case, though, it was good to have her there. Her pace helped me to keep up my own pace for the last 1.5 miles or so even though there were a few times when I desperately just wanted to fall behind her.
I had been hoping to come in to the last little leg before the finish line really strong, but as I was approaching it, I started feeling a wee bit nauseous, and not wanting to to vomit in front of the huge crowd of people at the finish line, I ended up falling behind the other runner anyway. Nonetheless, it was an amazing feeling to hear the announcer calling out, "And here comes Melanie finishing up the marathon!" There were also still a good number of spectators and people cheering at that point.
Immediately after crossing the finish line I burst into tears because I was just overwhelmed by the physical exertion and the mental knowledge that I had, in fact, just run a marathon....and not only that, but that I had run it well under 5 hours when I was expecting at least about 5:30. They gave me a nifty finisher's medal which I proudly wore around my neck for about the next hour. Pretty much the first thing I wanted after finishing was something to eat. They only had bagels and bananas, but I was hungry enough that I really didn't care what they had so long as it was food.
After eating, I went to the tent that was set up for runners to get free massages. I told Jer afterward that I felt so bad for all those masseuses who had been spending their whole mornings touching sweaty dirty bodies, but it was definitely nice to get my legs massaged after all that running.
My official timing chip time was 4:45:40 which placed me at #571 out of #667 individual marathon runners. I was thrilled with this time. During my longest training run, it took me 5:07 to do just 23 miles, so how I managed to do 26.2 miles about 20 minutes faster than that is just beyond me.
I'm glad to have run a marathon, but at this point, I am really not eager to do it again. Then again, I just went out for my first post-marathon jog this morning and realized that I had actually missed the running during my recovery day. So perhaps this adventure is to be continued.
~Melly~ *the marathoner*
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| The summer is already quite far along (as the 100+ degree temperatures last week suggested), and I am finally feeling as though I have an established rhythm of life. Life these days is generally falling very neatly into 3 major categories:
- Greek -- So. Much. Greek. PTS requires its New Testament PhD students to pass exams in both Koine and Attic Greek at some point during their first two years. Having gotten the Attic Greek exam out of the way, I just need to pass the Koine exam as well. This is itself is not a big deal. I'm translating 2 chapters of the NT per day, every day. No big deal. However, add this to the fact that I am also serving as a TA for a summer Greek class that meets for about 2.5 hours per day (about 1.75 hours of which I am the sole instructor for my little group of students [who are just a fantastic bunch; I feel like I really lucked out]) and requires a good number of hours outside of class time for lesson planning and preparation time, I feel as though I am immersed in this language. Don't get me wrong, it's a fantastic language to be immersed in, but still, holy cow. It's a miracle that I've not been been dreaming in Greek yet.
- Running -- Last summer I began running about 10-15 miles per week, and I flirted with the idea that it might be fun to try to run a marathon before I finished my PhD. Fair enough. I think there are probably a lot of people who have flirted with the marathon idea. This summer, however, in a fit of pure lunacy I decided that I would try to run a marathon this September. So, since the beginning of June, I have now logged 250+ miles in training runs, and I've plunked down my $85 registration fee for the torture honor of running 26.2 miles in Allentown, PA on September 11. It's not going to be fast. It's not going to be pretty. But daggone it, if I can finish this thing, I will limp happily into the fall semester feeling as though I can do anything.
- Research -- Working as a summer research assistant for Dr. Black has afforded me the opportunity to poke my nose into some new areas of research that I probably would not have been poking around in without the impetus to do so. Weirdo that I am, I actually really enjoy doing this. I've also been taking advantage of the small extra doses of free time that the summer is bringing to do some poking around in areas that course work has not yet given me a chance to explore. Currently on the docket: LGBTQ hermeneutics. Book I am most excited to dig into based solely on the title: Dancing Theology in Fetish Boots.
Overall, it has been an immensely pleasant summer thus far. I have just the right blend of having enough to do so that I'm not suffering from endless boredom but not so much that I feel overwhelmed or unable to complete all of it. All in all, it's proving to be a great summer.
~Melly~ *summerly*
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