Way Too Long: Update

It's been a little while since I posted anything here. Thankfully, it's because I've been busy. In the first few weeks of November, I was occupied with writing papers for the Society of Biblical Literature. One was sort of an introduction to reading Revelation from a queer perspective and the the other was on how two modern visionary artists, Myrtice West and Sister Gertrude Morgan, interpret Revelation's bridal imagery in their paintings. I was happy with both papers. I received some especially helpful feedback on the queer readings paper: There was a respondent, a scholar I respect immensely, who pushed me to think in some different directions and encouraged me to flesh out one piece of the paper for publication. So more work for me! The second paper, on the visionary artists, made me dive into some material for the book project, material that I hadn't thought about in awhile. It was good to move into it, as it allowed me to see that I really do have a book in my head that could see the light of day in the future! Overall, my SBL experience this year was exactly what it should be . . . an academic push forward.

Since SBL, I've been working on a bibliography about Satan. It's been a ton of work, but I've enjoyed it a great deal. I forgot how fun new research can be. I think I needed the intellectual challenge of this project, even though it has drawn me away from the book (as well as from the blog). The due date on this project is Jan 31, so Satan will be out of my hair soon enough!

In one week I'm back in the classroom--sabbatical is over. O-V-E-R. Even though it got off to a rough start, I think it was a good experience. People keep asking me if it was "productive," which makes me bristle a bit. Isn't part of the idea of sabbatical rest and regrouping? I think I was able to do that to some extent, but I wouldn't necessarily call that "productive." In fact, one of the best things about sabbatical was the opportunity to detach from the workplace. I know some people have a difficult time doing that and there were a couple instances when I let myself be pulled in, but overall I think I was successful in setting limits. What a wonderful thing: I was able to gain some perspective by pulling away my attention. I was able to realize that curriculum revision, general studies assessment, departmental events and searches are not the beginning and end of the world. Yes, all of these things are important, but they are not the only things in this world that are meaningful and worthy of my time. Moreover, I was reminded that things will move forward without me. I, personally, don't have to do everything. I'm hoping that I'll be able to maintain this perspective as I return to school.

Another great thing about sabbatical has been the flexibility to spend time with my dad, who is getting up there in years. Because I didn't have to be in the classroom, I was able to take him to his 60th high school reunion and plan and host his 80th birthday party. I'm so thankful that I had these opportunities. This makes the fact that I can't live near my dad, since I can't find a job in the area where he lives, more bearable.

Still, even though the question of productivity irritates me, I did manage to get some work done that really needed to get done. Over the summer and early fall I completed a chapter of the book and in the fall I was able to make significant headway on the second chapter. I began to see this thing as a whole, which was a first. And, as mentioned above, I was able to start tackling another chapter by writing my SBL paper on visionary artists. And, with this Satan bibliography, I'll have another publication under my belt. These aren't necessarily all the things I had hoped to get done, but I'm pretty satisfied.

So, overall, sabbatical was successful. I'm ready to get back into the classroom and into the university mix . . . although I'm sure I'll soon be looking forward to the next time away!

Lessons from the Midpoint

So, I'm just over half way through the sabbatical. Here are some of the things I've learned so far about sabbatical, my work and Satan.

1. Change can be difficult. Even if the change is positive in nature, like having time to work and reflect, adjusting to different work patterns, different work expectations, different surroundings, etc. can be unsettling. When things change, I need to allow myself some time to adjust or even some time to flail about resisting the change before I can move forward.

2. Personally, I am happiest with my work if I have more than one project going at a time. If I get frustrated with one project or am simply tired with reading one set of materials, it's nice to be able to change pace without having to stop work all together. That's where Satan comes in: Picking up a project on Satan (an annotated online bibliography) this month has allowed me to have something to focus upon besides Revelation's bridal imagery. Thank God, or Satan, or whoever (esp. the person who recommended me to the OUP editor) . . . because I needed a diversion.

3. Sometimes we just need to give ourselves a break, literally and figuratively. Literally, sometimes we just need a little time to relax and to let work sit for awhile. If we focus on anything too long, we have a distorted perspective on it. I had a colleague a number of years ago who used to take a mental health day once a semester. She could tell when she was pushing herself too hard and so, before she started biting heads off students and pushing colleagues out of windows, she took a day off of work just to catch up on stuff she needed to do and to relax. She was really one of the most well adjusted people I've met. Figuratively, we need to quit being so hard on ourselves. OK, I need to quit being so hard on myself. I need to give myself a break from the constant criticism and unattainable expectations. I'm not perfect and I never will be and it's not really fair that I demand that of myself at work, at home, with my friends, with my family, etc. No one else is perfect, even if they may have perfected the art of performing perfection.

4. I have some good ideas and I know some things about the Book of Revelation.

5. Writing can be hard work. Of course I knew this before sabbatical, but I'm being reminded again. I told a friend yesterday that writing, at times, is like pulling bags of wet laundry out of my brain. It takes effort and some persistence.

6. I'm who I need to be right now. The things I'm experiencing today, whether I'm struggling with feelings of inadequacy or happy about a line or two that I've written, are part of my lesson for the moment. Yes, I know that sounds like something out of a Hazelden self-help book, but . . . oh well. "It is what it is," as the chef-testants on Top Chef often say.

On Mutant Academic Ideals and Resting on Sabbath/ Sabbatical

Even though I am someone who teaches about biblical texts, I'm not a person whose thinks about how my personal life is, should be or has been shaped by the biblical texts. I've resisted the idea that the Bible is somehow a road-map for living, a compass or a guideline. This resistance comes from my gradual migration out of an evangelical Christian context, a context familiar to so many other biblical studies folk. However, over the past few years, I've thought more and more about these texts as conversation partners and as points of conversation between myself and others from the past, present and future. My work on conceptual metaphor, in particular, prompts me to think about the ways that images from these ancient writings have shaped me and my context and the ways I might be more intentional vis-a-vis that shaping. Now that I'm on sabbatical, I've entered a period of time that explicitly draws upon a biblical tradition and image--sabbath. However, as I thought about this time I never really put much thought into biblical ideas about sabbath . . .

Instead, my thinking about sabbatical centered around 1) when I could get one and 2) all the stuff I might accomplish during the sabbatical. In fact, my thinking about this period in my career was shaped by some image I have of an ideal academic who goes on sabbatical to an exotic academic locale, does a lot of heavy reading, rubs shoulders with the popular thinkers of the day, sips cocktails in the afternoon and, presto, has some product at the end of it all. This image is a very "Protestant-work-ethic-modern-multi-tasking-sexy-book-writer-theory-loving-text-geek" mash-up. I'm really not sure when this mutant creature took over my life, but now she wants to call the shots on my sabbatical and, I fear, my academic life as a whole. Blargh.

So, back to the text, as I often say in my classes. Looking at Genesis, first of all, I'm surprised that the seventh day is one of the two times that at the end of a "day" God does not see and pronounce things as good. On the other days, except for the second, the author recounts God's creation and then reports: "God saw that it was good." God does not take the time on the seventh day to look back at the creation, to muse about whether the dome in the sky looks a little wonky, to fuss over whether or not sea monsters were a good idea or not. God's not looking back seems particularly important to me now, since one of the things I'm struggling with on sabbatical is looking backwards. As I mentioned before, the luxury of time on my hands creates an opportunity to re-look at past writing and to focus on (i.e. literally obsess about) shortcomings. Double blargh.

While God leaves the past to be the past, God also does not, according to the text, dwell on the future either. There is no suggestion that on the eighth day God might re-do some part of creation, make it better or more consistent or more witty. Neither does the text suggest that God is sitting around writing up action plans or research agendas. The day, instead, is about rest. Rest. And the day is made sacred by God. Sacred rest.

The notion that a sabbatical might be some sort of "sacred rest" is a little scary to me. It sounds a little more slacker-ish and spiritual-ish than I tend to be. However, it also makes me wonder what might come out of a sabbatical that is treated as a time to take a break from what one has done in the past, a time to think about and within the present without fear for the future. Maybe it's time for me to think about what kind of professor, scholar, person I am right now: What are my current questions, my current scholarly motivations and interests? Hmmm . . .

Personal Apocalypse: On Sabbatical

The school year is starting, but I'm not. I'm on sabbatical. Sigh.

As I hear my friends talk about their first days back--the carefully selected teaching outfits (tie or no tie? sexy heels or "I mean business" boots?), the last minute syllabus preparation, the pre-year meetings that delay the actual beginning--I feel a sense of sadness. I miss the adrenaline rush of that first day. I miss the first day discussion about how my Intro to New Testament class is NOT a Sunday School class. I miss the students who I've taught before expressing their enthusiasm about being in my class again. I miss getting my students (and myself) excited about the material I teach--it's inherent interest and significance. Instead, I'm feeling detached and depressed.

Don't get me wrong, I am (or have been) excited about sabbatical. In fact, all spring and summer I reveled in the idea of having a chance to do writing. However, the reality of a wide swath of time to myself--to be with myself, to be with my "work," is now daunting. I'm realizing, on one hand, that I like my teacher self. I'm comfortable with her and her abilities. (Of course, at the beginning of next semester, as I re-enter the classroom, I'll have to be reminded of that.) Not going into the classroom this fall reminds me that I like being in there. On the other hand, as I face an ongoing writing project and a couple of papers, I'm realizing that I'm not as sure of the scholar/ writer self. I did not expect that the so-called imposter syndrome would hit me like a ton of bricks.

Armed with the luxury of time to look at my past work, the few publications I've done, all I can see are the mistakes, the inconsistencies, the short-comings. Sitting in my re-done home office, I'm compelled to reach out to people for reassurance: "Other people make mistakes, right?" I offer myself advice on how I should have done things: "When that esteemed individual asked you to contribute an essay the first semester of your first year teaching, you should have held off until you had time to really work out the details." Instead of telling the Lynn of 20/20 hindsight to shut the hell up, I allow her the last say. Ouch.

So why share all this? It's so revealing (hence, labeling it "apocalypse"). Well, I think that revelation can lead to gaining some kind of perspective on the issue. By looking at what I am doing, thinking, saying, I see that while there are parts of me in my academic work, my writing, my work is not me. I am more than the book, the essay, the review. My sense of sadness about the semester, for instance, reminds me that I am also a teacher and a colleague. Looking at my work, I see that I am also more than what any critic or academic conversation partner, negative OR positive, says or thinks about me. (Not that this reflection was occasioned by some external criticism--it wasn't.) Luke Johnson, who was an important mentor to me in grad school, once told me that I shouldn't dwell on what others think, regardless of whether their feedback was positive or negative, since it was putting my self worth in the hands of others. I think he was right. Of course I knew all of this before sabbatical, but now I need to learn to believe it and to find strategies for living it. I need to find ways of being comfortable with putting my ideas out into the world without the paralysis that comes with perfectionism, without worrying about what others think. I need to find ways of being comfortable with my role as scholar, as someone who lends her voice to intellectual investigations and inquiries. If you have any great strategies, feel free to share of course.

I'm also sharing this because of the hype around sabbatical. It is a great thing, mind you; however, as any other stage of the profession, it has its difficulties and times for growth. I hate growth, because, damn, it hurts some times.

Now, on to sabbatical . . .