Your Taste is Killer: Ira Glass Provides Much Needed Dissertation Motivation

Ira Glass in a heart

I’ve been slogging through the dissertation work lately. I’m getting stuff done. But the joy is fading. Then I found this:

 

Oh, Ira. Thanks. I needed this.

I consider our work as academics creative. The very best academic writing has a creative flair to it, whether in the prose or the theory or the narrative or the use of sources. Those of us who choose, for better or worse, a career in the academic wing of the creative classes  are drawn here because of our “taste,” as Glass puts it. We read a book, take a class, research a project, or do something that ignites that taste and motivates us. Then we go to grad school and we start to produce seminar papers, conference papers, and eventually a dissertation, all the while reading works by brilliant academics. We start to notice the gap between what we’re doing and what these writers are doing. We want to do what they are doing, we always have, but we are afraid we can’t. We are afraid that our work will never live up to our taste.

Maybe I’m wrong, but it seems that we all feel this gap at some point in our training. For some it may come during course work or exams, but for me it has come at the dissertation phase–and not the beginning of the dissertation, about a third of the way through it. That’s why these words from Ira Glass were so motivational for me. My taste is killer. If you’re reading this, your taste is killer. Now comes the work. It’s time to fight your way through.

Ok, back to the fight.


19th Century Evangelical Print Culture or 20th Century Digital/Social Media?

Found in Candy Gunther Brown’s The World in the World on page 169 whilst doing some evening dissertation study:

Rather than providing novel information, communication networks so employed regularly portray and confirm a particular vision of the world already assumed by its participants. Readers and writers engage in a dramatic confrontation between opposing forces–such as pure and corrupt Bible doctrine–and even when the act of communicating does not change the outcome of this conflict, they feel satisfied by rehearsing a familiar explanation of how things are in the world.

She’s describing 19th century evangelical periodicals. But it sure seems like it could apply to our current media landscape. The more things change…


Good advice for those of us writing dissertations…

Over the long arc of your career, you will complete many research projects, one often leading to the next. Research is an archipelago, not a single island. Your goal should be to build a career piece by piece doing good research. A professor once shocked me when I was a graduate student by saying, “Hopefully, your dissertation will be the worst thing you ever write.” Now I give the same advice: Our goal as scholars is continual improvement. Do the best job you can on your dissertation, defend it, publish it in some form, then move on.

Yep. That’s the goal.

More good advice here for those of you who’ve crossed over the river and are on the tenure track.


Frequencies and the Aesthetics of Spirituality

 

Theologians. They don’t know nothing. About my soul

-Wilco

Frequencies, the collaborative genealogy of spirituality curated by Katherine Lofton and John Modern, has become quite a brand across the religion blogosphere. The folks at the Immanent Frame have been posting a series of reflections on the project and its 100 entries ranging from chicken sandwiches to iPhones to my own adviser writing about LSD. The posts themselves are remarkable and the reviews have been excellent as well. I especially appreciated the bitchy essay from Martin Kavka and the musical musings of Jason Bivins.

The most striking thing about Frequencies in my eyes is its beauty. There are moments of wonderful prose, yes, but the collection is striking to gawk at on the screen. More than that, Frequencies has its own aesthetic. So, I have one question for Frequencies, a question I don’t see anyone asking:

What if Frequencies looked like this

…or this

…or even this?

What happens if we take the same text, the same objects in the collection, and reframe them? What if Finbarr Curtis’s essay on his father and the American Dream appeared surrounded by patriotic kitsch instead of smooth lines and a beautiful piece of art? What if Patton Dodd’s thoughts about evangelical Eugene Peterson looked like they were posted by a Sunday School teacher and Gary Laderman’s history of LSD looked like a Deadhead blog? Would we still see these objects a spirituality? How would the meaning of these texts shift in a different aesthetic? How much of the spirituality resonating through Frequencies is in its aesthetics? It just looks like spirituality–doesn’t it?

Compare Frequencies, the genealogy of spirituality, with the American Academy of Religion’s website. The AAR is the institutional hub for the study of “religion”–that thing that spirituality is so often not–and its website stands in stark contrast to Frequencies. So much news and so many menus. You have to scroll down a page with the colors of doctor’s office wallpaper. Or, to go to a paragon of institutional religion, look at the Vatican. A brown background? A giant picture of the Pope in the center around which myriad links to various departments and documents circle. Look at Christianity Today. So much stuff. So many pictures. It’s just so complicated. Now go back to Frequencies. There are no resonances with those other sites. They are on a different aesthetic wavelength. Frequencies has no institutional news, no leaders, no sidebars and frames. It is clean and sleek. It is spirituality–right?

Now, look at Apple. The iPad sits in front of you like the hamburger in a Hardee’s commercial.  The menu across the top is full of one word options and there’s not much to scroll down to. It’s all right there in black, white and gray. It’s clean and sleek. Now I understand why the image of a cup of coffee illustrating Adam Frank’s “science” entry fits so well as the wallpaper on my iPad. There are resonances between Apple and Frequencies–they share an aesthetic wavelength.

Art plays a big role in Frequencies, illustrating many of the entries. The artistic resonances emerge when we look Frequencies alongside the Metropolitan Museum of Art. MoMa is clean with big pictures and simple menus of black and white. The menu items are verbs: visit, explore, learn, support, shop. Frequencies asks you to seek. There are resonances.

I keep wondering about the musical resonances of Frequencies. It’s metaphors invoke sound–frequencies, tune in, wavelengths. Yet it is a startlingly silent website. What is the soundtrack for Frequencies?

I started this post with a Wilco lyric. Check out the cover to that album on the right. A Ghost is Born could be the soundtrack to Frequencies (listen to “Handshake Drugs” while you read  Luís León’s “cannabis club” entry). The cover fits right in with the artwork and feel of Frequencies. A simple egg. White on white with grays and black, while Jeff Tweedy doubly negates theologians. Again, resonances. We could look to other bands for other resonances. Who else might offer the audio for Frequencies words and images? Maybe Arcade Fire? How about Bon Iver? It might be a stretch, but how about Lana Del Rey? Who do you think of? Resonances?

Apple, an art museum, and indie rock, what does this all point too? What is this aesthetic wavelength we’ve tuned into? What do all these resonances mean? (All due respect to John Corrigan’s “meaninglessness”.) I think they point to two things. First, these resonances point to the cultural location of Frequencies within the American middle brow–that space of public radio, iPads, indie rock, the Atlantic, and SXSW. Some of its contents such as automatic writing or This American Life come from and appeal to middle brow America. Meanwhile, the aesthetics of the site and the inclusion of these objects alongside others like Eugene Peterson or Chick-Fila lift these “lower” objects up as spiritual and middle brow. Putting “Eugene Peterson” into the format of a poorly constructed webpage with Jesus fishes down the side highlights the ways Frequencies engenders spirituality in the mundane. Eugene Peterson is spirituality in sleek design next to LSD and A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda. Put him in Comic Sans Serif font next to a Zondervan NIV Bible and a set of Precious Moments figurines and he’s just evangelical.

This leads to the second point. When Frequencies claims to be a genealogy of spirituality it also admits to being part of the spirituality family–a family located within middle brow culture. To me the project is less of a Foucaultian genealogy and more of an Ancestry.com genealogy. It is the grandchildren and great grandchildren tracing out their lineage. There are resonances across the middle brow cultural spectrum, from high end consumer electronics to MoMA to indie rock, because they too are all children in this great family of spirituality. They all share similar cultural DNA that we could trace out historically if we tried. Frequencies is not just a catalog of culturally middle brow spirituality, it is a child of  culturally middle brow spirituality.

For me, Frequencies is the Portlandia of spirituality. Like the incredible hipster sketch comedy show, Frequencies smartly digests, analyzes, and catalogs hipster culture and in the process produces some of  best pieces of hipster culture. It slides back and forth from critiquing the culture and situating itself within the culture. Likewise, Frequencies is more than a genealogy of spirituality, it is a prime example of spirituality, down to the aesthetics of the flickering pixels on the screen. It just looks like spirituality.


Yoga and the Protestant Public Sphere; Or, Taking Back Yoga Where?

Thanks to NPR, the debate about white people doing yoga is back in the news:

About 20 million people in the United States practice some form of yoga, from the formal Iyengar and Ashtanga schools to the more irreverent “Yoga Butt.”

But some Hindus say yoga is about far more than exercise and breathing techniques. They want recognition that it comes from a deeper philosophy — one, in their view, with Hindu roots.

Many forms of yoga go back centuries. Even in the U.S., the transcendentalists were doing yoga in the 1800s.

William Broad, a reporter for The New York Times and author of The Science of Yoga, has been practicing since 1970. He says people pursue yoga for all kinds of reasons, from achieving health and fitness to seeking spirituality, energy and creativity.

Yoga, Broad says, is an antidote for a chaotic world.

The story goes on to quote Sheetal Shah of the American Hindu Foundation, the force behind the “Taking Back Yoga” campaign, who argues that yoga has its roots in the Vedas and therefore in Hinduism and so it is a problem to divorce the practice from the “lifestyle” and “philosophy” of nonviolence, truthfulness, and purity–all admirable qualities.

The NPR piece prompted my colleague at Emory, Deeksha Sivakumar, to ask over at the Bulletin for the Study of Religion  “do religious practices become irreligious when they travel across national borders?” I think Deeksha is on the right track, and her post over at the Bulletin makes some important points, but we need to ask another question first. Is modern transnational yoga religious? How and why? Or to put it another way, where do we need to take yoga back to?

Missing from all of the debates about yoga in the past year and half or so (see here and here) is a thoughtful look at the history of yoga in India and in the West.  Last January, Roman Palitsky, writing at Religion Dispatches, wrote the only essay I’ve seen taking a historical approach to modern yoga. In his piece he referenced a group of books that had recently been published and how they challenged the HAF and the “yoga is essentially Hindu” argument:

A corpus of literature has emerged over the past ten years, including David Gordon White’s “Siddha” trilogy, several volumes by Joseph Alter, Elizabeth DeMichelis’ A History of Modern Yoga and just last year Stefanie Syman’s Subtle Body and Mark Singleton’s Yoga Body, all of which oppose the straightforward message of the Take Yoga Back movement.

These works reveal the formative influence of (wait for it) Buddhism, Jainism, Sufism, television, military calisthenics, Swedish gymnastics and the YMCA, as well as of radical Hindu nationalism, upon today’s postural yoga practice. There is no doubt that the Vedas, Upanishads, and folk traditions of India have been formative toward yoga: yoga is almost inseparable from them. Nevertheless to assert that yoga is essentially and primarily a Hindu practice means to ignore millennia of generative influence from other quarters. Worse still, it means to step blindly into a political fight for the heart of India that has simmered for over two hundred years.

Of the books Palitsky names, Mark Singleton’s stands out as wonderful history of transnational yoga that traces the connection between Hindu thought and practice, European physical culture, and Indian nationalism. Singleton writes in his final chapter:

This chapter and those which precede it have outlined some of the ways in which the early modern practice of asana was influenced by various expression of physical culture. This does not mean that the kind of posture-based yogas that predominate globally today are “mere gymnastics” nor that they are necessarily less “real” or “spiritual” than other forms of yoga. The history of modern physical culture overlaps and intersects with the histories of para-religious, “unchurched” spirituality; Western esotericism; medicine, health, and hygiene; chiropractic, osteopathy, and bodywork; body-centered psychotherapy; the modern revival of Hinduism; and the sociopolitical demands of the emergent modern Indian nation (to name but a few). In turn, each of these histories is intimately linked to the development of modern transnational, anglophone yoga. Historically speaking, then, physical culture encompasses a far broader range of concerns and influences than “mere gymnastics,” and in many instances the modes of practice, belief frameworks, and aspirations of its practitioners are coterminous with those of modern, posture-based yoga. They may indeed by at variance with “Classical Yoga,” but it does not follow from this that these practices, beliefs, and aspirations (whether conceived as yoga or no) are thereby lacking in seriousness, dignity, or spiritual profundity.

That’s a tangled web of influence for what we call “yoga” today and it is not a simple story of Vedic texts through Patanjali to Vivekananda and the West. Following Singleton’s analysis, the “Take Back Yoga” campaign is yet another chapter in the unfolding of transnational yoga. The HAF’s reimagining of yoga as an essentially Vedic and essentially Hindu practice and their entire campaign to proclaim this to America is part of their program for political self-representation and power. It is necessitated by the demands of American diversity and by the resurgence of a public conservative Protestant establishment. As religion has taken a greater role in the public sphere post-1965 (and here I’m thinking of the conclusion of Kevin Schultz’s Tri-Faith America) the need for minority communities to make public claims to religious relevance and authenticity has increased. “Take Back Yoga” is more than a claim for a religious practice, it is the claim for power within the de-secularizing public sphere and an increasingly empowered Protestant establishment.

So, there is no where to take yoga back. There is only a pressing forward as Hindus and other minority religious communities assert themselves in the public sphere in the face of an encroaching Protestant establishment.


Things that are still true about American Christianity…

Jerry Falwell going down a waterslide in a black suite

“The new formation [born-again Christianity] was part fundamentalist, part pentecostal, part charismatic, part evangelical, and then something else in a way that none of its parts had been: morally outraged, socially engaged, and routinely politically active.”

– Susan Friend Harding, The Book of Jerry Falwell (2000)

I was preparing my lesson for Monday’s class about the Scopes trial and Christian fundamentalism when I came across this quote from Harding. I assigned her chapter on Scopes to students in my (team taught) History of Religions in America course because it does a good job of situating the trial in the larger 20th century history of American Christianity and also emphasizes the fragmented nature of conservative Protestantism. This quote comes from the end of the chapter as she moves from the exile of the fundamentalists to the resurgence of born-agains in the 80s. What struck me, now a decade removed from Harding’s publication, is just how right she was. Since her book, we’ve heard the “end of the religious right” narrative trotted out again and again, but here we sit on the other side of Harding’s text, 9/11, two wars, and the Tea Party and it seems that  moral outrage, social engagement, and political activism still define the Christian right. This three part recipe has roots in the evangelical reform movements of the nineteenth century and the revivalism of the early republic, but in the past thirty years it has mingled with late-modern capitalism, imperialism, free-marketism, and militarism. This Voltron of religious conservatism, call it Pentevangelamentalism (or born again Christianity, as Harding does), will always look like it’s about to fall apart at any moment. It is criss-cross with internal ruptures and lines of fissure. However, the shared outrage practiced in the social and political spheres will always hold it together in the end.


Asian Religions in America as an Ngram: Hinduism, Buddhism, and the Rammohun Spike

I decided to play around with Google’s Ngram viewer and see what it might tell me about how Americans wrote about Asian religions. Click here for a bigger version of the graph. Here’s what I noticed:

1. The most popular moment for Asian religions in America was in the 1820s and it most likely revolved around the figure of Rammohun Roy the “Hindoo reformer” highly covered in Unitarian and evangelical missionary journals. His debates with the English Baptist missionaries at Serampore, just outside Calcutta, and his publication of the Precepts of Jesus attracted a lot of attention in America. He wanted to eventually come to the United States but died in Bristol, England while touring Britain before he could make it. There’s a lot more to be said about Rammohun but I’ll let the spike speak to his importance and refer you to my dissertation that should be done early next year for more details.

2. The spike in “Hindoo” before Rammohun matches up with the beginnings of the American missionary movement. The first missionaries were ordained by the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions in 1812 and went to India and Ceylon. What I can’t explain is the dip between the missionaries and Rammohun.

3. Looking further down the timeline, it is interesting to note the way “Hinduism” never gets close to the same frequency as “Buddhism” while “Hindu” keeps pace with “Buddhism” and “Buddhist.” This proves an important point made by writers, most notably Tomoko Masuzawa in her book The Invention of World Religions, that Buddhism was accorded more authority as a “world religion” than Hinduism during the nineteenth century. This graph shows that Americans took interest “Hindus” and “Hindoos” but that they didn’t give”Hinduism” the status of full fledged religion. “Hinduism” was not discussed as frequently as “Buddhism” because it was seen as less important and less legitimate religion. “Hinduism” does get a bump after 1893, most likely from the arrival of Vivekananda. Nonetheless, there is a lot of writing about Hindus but not much about Hinduism. It seems Americans wrote more frequently about the figure of the Hindu than the overall religious system. Meanwhile, Buddhists and Buddhism got equal treatment.

There are certainly caveats to the accuracy of this method and the use of Ngrams in general for historical work. That said, I do think that there are places where graphs like this can corroborate other more traditional forms of historical evidence. The “Rammohun spike” seems fairly plausible to me. For those of us interested in the history of religious concepts and categories in American culture, the Ngram can be a great jumping off point for theorizing the relationship between culture and discourse. It’s one more tool for whacking away at the stubborn rock of history in hopes of chiseling out something meaningful.

Also, this is post number 100 for this blog. Hooray! Thanks to everyone who has read and supported my blogging here and elsewhere. It’s been fun for me and I hope you’ve gotten something out of it too.


Social Media and the Religious Studies Classroom: Twitter as a Third Space

Plate 113 of Birds of America by John James Audubon depicting Blue-bird.

I have always said that the best time to experiment as a teacher is in graduate school. In many cases your course load is lighter than as an adjunct or tenure track faculty member and your student reviews won’t go in your tenure file. Instead the bad ones can go in the recycling bin. There is a safety net and, hopefully, lots of wise faculty members to help you along the way. It is an important time to test out things that may or may not work and hone innovative strategies you can share on the job market.

To that end, I began to experiment with social media in my Religion 100 course last semester. The official title of the course was “Introduction to Religion: Christian and Hindu Traditions.” In the course I used both a public class blog, Twitter, and Skype. Things went really well and I learned a lot. I have even been asked to share what I’ve learned with faculty and graduate student’s here at Emory. Now I want to share my thoughts on social media and how it can be especially helpful in religious studies classes. I also want to explore the idea of “the social” both in our media and in our classrooms–a question I did not think through at the beginning but have returned to in looking back on the course.

But why use any form of technology, social media or otherwise, in your teaching? My basic approach to using technology is based in the metaphor of the tool belt. Technologies are just like any other tools we use in our teaching–tests, assignments, or readings. So, the question is not “How can I use Twitter in my class?” Rather, the question is “What do I want to do in this class?” In some cases the best technology is a whiteboard while in others it could be something a little higher tech. In any case, you start with the goal or problem, not with the tool.

In Religion 100 I had 4 goals (these were separate from but related too the learning objectives of the class):

  1. I want to figure out what students are getting out of the reading BEFORE I lecture in class.
  2. I want to open up the classroom. That is, I want to get students thinking about class outside of the the class period and get outsiders thinking with my class.
  3. I want to teach them to be able to connect course material with the world around them. ( I think of this as a civic pedagogy.)
  4. I want them writing across different genres

As I considered the above goals I came up with three social media tools that would help me: a blog, Twitter, and Skype. I’ll start with Twitter in this post and address the other two in a subsequent post or posts.

So here’s what I did. You can find the whole syllabus for the course at the link above but here’s the section that outlined the Twitter assignment:

We will use Twitter as a way to share thoughts on the reading, comments or questions in class, links to possible blog stories, and for general communication. You are required to send out three course related tweets per week using the hashtag #REL100. These three tweets must relate to content in the course. They could be comments that come to mind as you read, a question about the reading material, a comment or question during class discussion or lectures, a link to something you’ve found online that relates to themes we covered in class, or a response to someone else’s tweet. Retweets without further comment do not count. Messages or mentions to me about details (i.e. “@MichaelJAltman What time are your office hours tomorrow?”) do not count.

If you are not a very talkative person and do not enjoy speaking up in class, Twitter is a great option for you to participate in class. Class participation is part of your grade and Twitter may give you a more comfortable platform for asking questions, making comments, and joining in the discussion. I will be monitoring #REL100 during class and responding to comments and questions that appear there. You are not required to follow the Twitter stream during class.

I will spend time in class explaining how to use Twitter so everyone feels comfortable with the platform. I will also briefly cover how to write a good “thick” tweet.

I was surprised how quickly students got the hang of a “thick” tweet. I was also surprised at how hard it was to follow the stream while also lecturing. I eventually gave that up. I used the now defunct Twapperkeeper to archive the tweets which means that I had them during the semester but they are now gone into the internet ether. I think The Archivist would work if I was doing it again and I also think a simple RSS feed for the course hashtag would have been sufficient. For more on these nuts and bolts issues check out the links on my teaching page.

So how well did it work? A few things went really well. First of all, it did open up the class. Students were thinking about the course materials for a few extra minutes each week. I could tell this because I could see the tweets and their time stamps. Also, a lot of students tweeted links to things they found around the internet that related to class. They began to see the course material in the world around them (more on that when we get to the blog). While not a lot of outsiders joined into the Twitter conversations, I do know that there were folks following our discussion and so in that way it opened up our class to the outside.

Beyond opening up the class, the tweets made my lectures better. Many students tweeted as they read with questions, ideas, and thoughts. It was like I could see their marginalia before I had completed my lectures. I knew which parts of readings needed emphasis or explanation in class and I got their first impressions so that I could begin the process of pushing their thinking to a deeper level. While some students commented that they enjoyed the Twitter activity itself, overall the class reviews almost unanimously cited the lectures as the best part of the class. Little did they know that they were helping write those great lectures. I also got comments from students that the 140 character limit forced them to really boil down their thoughts. This reminds me of some of the creative writing assignments I had in college where you had to write a short story using only one syllable words. Constraints can force critical or creative thinking.

I did learn a few things that I would do differently the next time around. First, I would have been more clear about why I was having them tweet and how their tweets were informing my lectures and improving the class. I think a few people felt that it was busy work because they didn’t realize that their were real benefits for them in the tweets. Second, I would spread it out. I had a few students who would wait until the weekly deadline and then send out three tweets in a row or three quick responses to other people’s tweets. A group of late night religion tweeters began to assemble every week right before the deadline for a Religion 100 tweetfest. I think next time I will require students to tweet X number days, instead of times, to spread it out. Finally, less is more. I think two tweets a week or even an average of two tweets a week throughout the semester would have been a better assignment. They would have had less to do and I would still have had enough tweets to use in my lecture writing.

I think Twitter was very successful tool for accomplishing my goals. It improved my lectures, opened up the class, helped them connect material to their world, and got them writing in a new genre. I think it worked well because I made sure to bring interesting tweets into the classroom and reference them in lectures. I also think it worked because I restrained myself as much as I could. I tried to hold back and not answer their questions. I tried not to respond to their thoughts too often or too quickly. I tried to sit on my hands and make Twitter stream more their space than mine.

Twitter became a “third space “in the class. When I used to work a certain giant green northwestern based coffee company they would refer to their stores as a “third place” between work and home. You could get a coffee and sit on a couch or you could write on your laptop and check emails. It wasn’t home but it wasn’t work. That’s how Twitter functioned in our class. It became a third space where students could float ideas, try to make connections, and ask questions. Because I restrained myself and let them respond and answer each other it became more their space than mine. It wasn’t their personal space but it wasn’t the classroom space where right answers are rewarded and I maintain control. It was a 3rd space between their thoughts/notes and the classroom. It was also a very productive space for them.

I think this third space is especially important in religious studies classes because of the nature of what we teach. Twitter was a place where confessionalism (still within certain boundaries) was tolerated more than in the academic classroom. For a class on Hinduism and Christianity, it gave my Hindu and Christian students a place to work out how the course materials related to their own religious identities and practices. We don’t often have time to let students work out these sorts of questions within the confines of our classrooms or written assignments but Twitter acted as a pressure valve that allowed students to make sense of the course in terms of their own subjectivity. A conservative evangelical student was able to take issue with an essay we read on early Christianities without disrupting class time by tweeting to me about it. The whole class saw the tweets and my response and so he felt heard, the exchange was respectful, questions were answered, and we moved on. That could easily have been a twenty minute distraction if it happened in class. Instead it was a teachable moment. My restraint at other times made my interventions into the Twitter conversation more productive.

I definitely think I will use Twitter again in the classroom. For my lifestyle and my teaching style it proved itself as a constructive tool for achieving my goals in the classroom. As a piece of social media, Twitter gave the course a congenial feeling that we were all in this together and that it was a safe space for discussion and disagreement. Also, I’ve found that if given the choice to comment on a blog post or write their own blog post of the same length, most students will simply write their own because it is easier to come up with their own thoughts than read, understand, and respond to someone else. Not the case with Twitter. The short tweets actually make it easier to respond and thus build a conversation than a message board or blog. But the biggest advantage was the ways it narrowed the gap between the student’s thoughts on the material and my presentation of the material. Overall it enhanced the social aspects of the course. That works for my teaching style and, from the responses students gave, it worked for them too.

[Image: Plate 113 of Birds of America by John James Audubon depicting Blue-bird. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons]


The First Hindu in America? Maybe…

From the diary of Rev. William Bentley of Salem, Mass. December 29, 1799:

Had the pleasure of seeing for the first time a native of the Indies from Madras. He is of very dark complection, long black hair, soft countenance, tall, & well proportioned. He is said to be darker than Indians in general of his own cast, being much darker than any native Indians of America. I had no opportunity to judge of his abilities, but his countenance was not expressive. He came to Salem with Capt. J. Gibaut, and has been in Europe.
It’s unclear what this man’s religious culture was. Still, that’s almost a century before Vivekananda. Just sayin’.

Places to Send Students in Search of Religion Blog Topics

I gave a couple of talks around Emory last week about my experience teaching with social media last semester. In the wake of those I’ll be posting some resources for folks looking to use blogging or Twitter in their classes. Here is a list of good sites I recommended to students for looking for articles/posts to write their posts about. While I didn’t require them to use these, almost every one of them did and they had great results.

Religion Dispatches: http://www.religiondispatches.org

Religion in American History: http://usreligion.blogspot.com

CNN Belief Blog: http://religion.blogs.cnn.com

NY Times Religion: http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/subjects/r/religion_and_belief/index.html?

Religion News Service: http://religionnews.com/index.php?/rnsblog

Reuter’s Faith World: http://blogs.reuters.com/faithworld/

Washington Post OnFaith: http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/on-faith

Huffington Post Religion: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/religion/

USA Today Faith & Reason: http://content.usatoday.com/communities/Religion/index

Google News- Religion: http://news.google.com/news/section?pz=1&jfkl=true&cf=all&ned=us&hl=en&csid=41b9657e37e26fc7&ict=ln

The Revealer: http://therevealer.org/

Killing the Buddha: http://killingthebuddha.com/

Warren Throckmorton: http://wthrockmorton.com/



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