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The Whole Point

Early this season I returned to Fuller Theological Seminary in Pasadena, California, to attend my Ph.D. commencement ceremony and to be duly “hooded” – i.e., officially welcomed into the company of hopelessly nerdy liturgical and homiletical scholars.

Anticipating the visit, I asked via text a fellow graduating student, my friend Joseph Novak, who had been to Fuller more recently than me, a few questions about ceremonial specifics. In particular, I asked him about the baccalaureate service, which the materials I received from Fuller said was to take place on the “Arol Burns mall.”

RR: What is the “Arol Burns mall”? Is it anything like the Aaron Burr mall?  I only graduate once. I don’t want to throw away my shot. (Didja catch the Hamilton reference there?)



JN: 
The mall is the green space in the middle of campus.

RR: So there's a worship service right there? Like — how does anyone hear anything?

JN: 
They’ve been doing more outdoor stuff lately. They’ve got a pretty amazing sound system.

The conversation continues rather tongue-in-cheek.  

RR: Is it like Disneyland and they have speakers hidden everywhere in the trees and bushes? Like Moses coming upon the theophanic shrubbery?

JN
: Haha. Everyone is given in-ear monitors. It's a totally monastic moment.

RR: Awesome! 
Do I get an app so I can calibrate what I hear in my own in-ear monitors? Filter out any stuff about, say, sin?



JN: 
Of course. Calvinists tune in to the “confession of our wretched condition” channel; Pentecostals in to the “word of prophecy channel”; and so on. You really can get what you’re looking for.

That’s the whole point of worship. Right?