What?

Yeah, I’m not really starting a Theology on Tap because I’m that attached to the concept (although it’s a good one). I’m starting a theology on tap because my friend Adam Walker Cleaveland just wrote a blog post tossing out the mere idea of starting a theology on tap group for his church, and within six hours, he received an email notification from the group that apparently holds the trademark for the term “theology on tap.” They basically told him he couldn’t use the name without paying them money. Oh, and this is a ministry, too.

WTF?!?!?!?!?!! (uh oh, has anyone trademarked “WTF” yet?)

Better yet:  WTFWJD???? (Ryan, you’d better hurry up and trademark that one.)

So, even though I actually think the name “Theology on Tap” is a little hokey and overused, I’m now going to start one, and yes, that’s EXACTLY what I’m going to call it: THEOLOGY ON TAP. Every Thursday night at 7pm, my front porch. Bring your favorite beer, and I’ll share some of mine with you. We’ll print t-shirts, flyers, and publicize the heck out of it. Oh, and if you’re not in New Jersey but still want to participate, I’d encourage you to start your own THEOLOGY ON TAP wherever you live. If thousands of us all do it together, I doubt the copyright Nazis who “own” the words (ridiculous, isn’t it?) Theology on Tap will really be able to sustain that many lawsuits. And even if they try, they’ll end up looking as stupid and foolish and selfish as when ASCAP sued the Girl Scouts of America for singing copyrighted songs around their campfires.

Sheesh. What an idiotic world we live in.

See you tonight for THEOLOGY ON TAP!!!

Weather:  As I write this, it’s snowing outside, and has been for most of the day.  We were lucky to spend a nice, warm Christmas season in sunny El Paso, Tx and a few days in Phoenix, AZ.  But that’s over now, and it’s back to freezing, freezing, cold.  Grady is having the time of his life, though, and has already built a miniature snowman, and covered the sidewalk with snow angels.  The other day when I was walking to class, bundled in multiple layers, gloves, hat, even thermal underwear — and still feeling like I might die of hypothermia at any minute — a girl jogged casually past me wearing shorts and a t-shirt.  Sigh.  Guess I’m just a weather-wimp.  Oh well, three more months to go. Then four more years…

Classes:  I’m about halfway through the January term, which, although occuring in the spring of calendar year 2009 is academically considered part of the fall 2008 semester (hey, I don’t make the rules, thank God).  I’m taking one class, which meets three days a week in the mornings: The Theological Legacy of the Dionysian Forgery, with Professor Paul Rorem (who was also my church history professor last semester).  The reading is pretty dense — the kind where you have to read every sentence three or four times before it begins to make sense, and then when you think you’ve grasped it, you suddenly realize you haven’t.  Still, the subject matter is interesting, and both influences/touches on everything from medieval scholasticism and angelology to neo-platonism,  gothic architecture, intellectual property, and even post-modern deconstructionism.  More on Pseudo-Dionysius later.

Abby:  She’s not only walking, but almost running everywhere now, and has developed quite a vocabulary over the Christmas holidays.  She yells “Da-Da!” when I walk through the door at the end of the day, and then raises her arms in the air, saying “Wee-wee!” which means she wants me to pick her up and fly her through the air like an airplane (her favorite).  She also *finally* has been letting me read to her, and will even bring me a book to read, her favorites being Go Dogs, Go!; Goodnight Gorilla; and Sandra Boynton’s Moo, Baa, La, La, La.  She dances when you play music, and loves to play peekaboo (which she says “pickabee”). In case there was ever any doubt, she’s definitlely aspiring to be a girly-girl, and will walk around the house with a purse on her arm, trying to steal her mom’s makeup.  She has a particular fondness for jewelery, watches, and cell-phones.  She also says hello, bye-bye, baby, mamma,  bubba, book, no, hat, nose, clock, tick-tock, Grandad, and meow (which she pronounces miamee).

Facebook:  A few weeks ago, I found one of my old friends from elementary school in Belgium on facebook — that led to another and another, until we’ve almost got enough for a 5th grade class reunion.  I’ve reconnected with some great childhood friends, and had to brush up on my long dormant French in the process.  Thank God for Google translator and Babel Fish to pick up the slack.

Brewing:  While my brothers were in town last week, we brewed our first batch of “Locke Bros Beer” all together — they’ve been brewing for almost a year, and  started earlier this fall.  This was my fourth batch total, and it looks to be a Strong Belgian-style Golden Ale.  We haven’t named it yet, though.   I’m almost out of the Christmas Beer I brewed in December, called IncarnationAle.  It got plenty of good reviews, though, except for a few people who were surprised when the cranberry came out of the bottle along with the beer!  Thanks to Philip Lotspeich, Drew Ludwig, and Loren Crow, who each (independently) suggested the same name.

Search for a Church:  As an inquirer on the “ordination track” I’m under care of my home church and presbytery, which means that we’ll remain members of Faithbridge Presbyterian Church in Frisco, Tx during my entire time at seminary.  Still, we’ve been looking for a place to worship on Sunday mornings, and it hasn’t been easy.  Most of the Presbyterian churches we’ve visited in this part of the country are very “high church” traditional, and almost identical in architecture, aesthetics, liturgy and demographics.  Plus, they all seemed to have everything all worked out.  Coming from a new church development, we weren’t used to that.  Some didn’t seem too welcoming, and some didn’t have much in the way of nursery/Sunday school for Abby and Grady.  But I think we finally found a place we really like:  Middlesex Presbyterian Church, in Middlesex, NJ.  It’s about a 45 minute drive north of us, and the one service starts at 9:30am, but the church is very warm, friendly, multicultural, and there are a LOT of four year-old boys for Grady to play with.  The pastor’s name also happens to be Neal — Neal Presa, and I’ve had a chance to get to know him a little via facebook, lunch, and a few other conversations — that’s important to me.  More importantly, we felt like MPC is a place we can help and contribute, and a place that isn’t afraid to be creative and even a little “wheels off” as my pastor/mentor/friend, Philip Lotspeich, likes to say.

New Year’s Resolution:  In short, I don’t have one yet.  Last year’s was the first I ever kept throughout the whole year, and it was an enjoyable experience I think I’ll keep observing last year’s resolution (to only buy clothes at second-hand stores like Goodwill or Salvation Army), just not as dogmatically.  But still, I was hoping to come up with something new.  Something that, while making a difference in my life, also helps to make a small difference in the larger world.  I’m giving myself until the end of January to come up with something, so any realistic (taking me into account) suggestions are welcome.

Blog Posts Coming Up Next: (I have to say this publically to hold myself accountable):

• Twittering and mobile-internet:  Disruptive or Enhancing?
• Princeton Theological Seminary:  A School for Wizards
• Mission Trail:  A New (and old) Kind of Border Fence

• Friday — After waking up in Baltimore, we drove the last stretch of our Journey past Philadelphia and into Princeton, we picked up our keys, signed our lease, and found ourselves in an empty apartment waiting for our stuff to arrive.
• Saturday — We slept in, then Grady and I went to the “Dinky” trains station (that’s really what they call it) to pick up my sister, and Grady’s Aunt Emily.  Em treated us to lunch at Chili’s (yes, they have those here), then we went back to our empty apartment, and took turns cleaning and playing with kids.  For awhile, Emily and I sat on the front steps watching Grady play soccer in the front yard with Matthew, a little boy who lives above us.  When we realized how late it was, we rushed Emily back to the train station, explored Princeton a little more, and then called it a night.
• Sunday — We woke up early in the morning to go to church New York City!  Our first trip on the train was exciting, and when we arrived in NYC, at first we thought we were lost, but it turned out we weren’t.  A subway trip brought us to Columbia University, where our friends John and Annie Feighery are PhD students.  Our kids played with their kids, we all went to play in a water-fountain-park near their apartment, had an excellent New-Mexico style dinner, and then to Central Park for a free concert by French/Israeli singer, Yael Naim.  By the time we got back to the Feighery’s apartment, kids and adults were exhausted and ready to crash.  Click here for the rest of the pictures (taken by Annie) of our NYC trip.
• Monday — Got up early to say goodbye to the Feighery’s and catch a train back to Princeton.  When we got back, I made a trip to the seminary campus, where I filled out paperwork for financial aid, and then bought my first two textbooks for my Summer Greek course. Cost about $50 for both, which actually is not that bad.  Yet.  That night, newfound friends Andrew and Kristina invited us to a cookout with a few other seminary families. Afterwards, Andrew took me on a quick tour of Princeton and a stop at Triumph brewery for some growlers (1 growler = approx 4 pints), which we enjoyed later that evening with a few friends and some deep theological discussion.  Well, maybe more interesting than deep.
• Tuesday — Our stuff was supposed to arrive Monday, but somehow got stuck in Pennsylvania, so we spent most of Tuesday waiting for it.  We did make a quick trip to Babies R’ Us to cash in on a present from Amy’s parents: A new play-saucer for Abby (which came in really handy the next day while we were all unloading furniture).  Finally our stuff arrived, and we did a little unloading before it got dark. Some friends we had met the previous night, Nate and Janel, were kind enough to invite us over for dinner.
• Wednesday — John & Aidan caught a train down from NYC to help us unload, and two sets of neighbors from our building (Chris & Sarah, and Casey & Rachel) also pitched in — making the unloading of the truck complete in an amazing two hours.  Following my mother’s advice, I made sure I had beer for the movers — I would have provided them with some good Texas Shiner Bock, but it seems nowhere to be found here in New Jersey, so I opted for Stella Artois instead (hey, it’s Belgian). Afterwards, the Locke’s took the Feighery’s (2/5ths of them, anyhow) to lunch at the local WaWa.  The What???  Actually it’s a chain of convenience stores.  I know, not too fancy, but apparently they’re well known for their hoagie sandwiches, and we were feeling experimental.  In true New Jersey fashion, you go in, punch your order on a computer screen, and never have to talk to a single person! Later, John and Aidan caught the train back to NYC, and we began the piling of boxes (of which there is no end).
• Thursday — After a rather whirlwind week, we slept in Thursday morning, and relaxed for most of the day.  Somewhere in the midst of it, Abby spoke what may have been her first word?  We’re really not sure.  She was looking at Grady, and out of the blue started saying “bubba, bubba” (or it might have been bababababa).  The thing is, when we say it to her now, she’ll repeat it.  So it’s reproducible, but we’re not sure if it really has meaning attached to Grady, her brother.  That evening, we made our first family trip to the grocery store, and I discovered Chimay Cheese in the specialty cheeses section!  The trip took longer than we expected, and so we grabbed some Chinese take-home on the way out, and had a late, improvised dinner to finish out the week.

That’s pretty much it.  If you’re still reading, you must either be incredibly interested in our family, related to us, or else in serious need of switching off the monitor. Either way, thanks, and keep checking back for more Locke family adventures in Seminary.  If you don’t want to bother with checking back, just enter your email address in the “subscribe” box to the right, and you can receive email updates on our journey.  If nothing else, it might be slightly more interesting than spam!

In pursuit of a dream I share with my two brothers (to someday open a Monastery Microbrewery and Pub), I’ve been studying the American beer industry a lot lately. It didn’t take long for me to see parallels with the church:

• Major Breweries & Mega Churches. There are only a few of these in the US, but they’re the ones everyone knows about. They seem to emphasize a bland sort of consistency, and there aren’t a whole lot of differences from one brand to another, so they rely heavily on image and marketing to “attract” consumers. They are run by highly paid professionals, and often family dynasties. By trying to please everyone and offend no one, they strip the soul out of their heritage. The “bottom line” (money or numbers) is the ultimate measure of success.  They’re also the most likely to be seen on television.

• Microbreweries & Local Churches. These are more connected to their communities, and their supporters are fairly passionate about them, but many are still too preoccupied with numbers. Some are trying hard to move up to the next category. Reputations are built by word of mouth and limited advertising. In general, they are still managed by professionals, but they often celebrate their uniqueness and heritage.

• Brewpubs & Emerging Churches. These are hard to put in a box – each one has its own distinct character and approach. They are willing to experiment greatly, but still within an established set of boundaries. They are highly focused on serving their segment of the community, often located in urban districts, and inspire intense loyalty among their young, trendy supporters. Often managed by jack-of-all-trades types who definitely “drink their own brew.” Most are relatively new to the scene, so heritage is not a big deal, but diversity and flare are important.

• Homebrewers & House Churches. These are the most experimental, and usually the most passionate (and knowledgeable) about what they do. Amateurs not only run the show, but *are* the show, and readily share information and resources with each other through loose networks and affiliations. They’re a little bit hard to find, unless you have the right connections with the underground.  With no controlling authority, there is infinite variety and possibility, however, they often share common methods and philosophies with the very first practitioners from the ancient past.

I’m curious to know if this latest metaphor rises to the “bar,” or if it’s just a lot of froth and foam. As always, you’re encouraged to pull up a stool and share your thoughts with the bartender. If your comments start to get incoherent, I’ll call you a cab.

Other Posts in the “Odd Church Metaphor” series:

1. Fat Church
2. Masturbation Church