I began my sophomore year this morning at CRTS, on a day that saw the Humidex cackling from its perch in the low forties. I showed up on time today, which means I’m batting at .500 for first-day punctuality. Modest; when not compared with anyone else’s. I have two double classes on Tuesday mornings, Church History, and New Testament background. Both courses cover material that I enjoy studying, so I imagine Tuesdays will be a good day.
The class in New Testament background covers the historical, social, cultural, etc., contexts in which the New Testament took place. So, for instance, we learned something of Herod the Great, King of Palestine when Christ was born. He had killed his wife, he had killed three of his sons, and he had killed the entire noble household of the Hasmoneans, simply because he saw in them a threat to his power. So you can imagine how he felt when the Magi came looking for the newly-born King of the Jews. Killing all those infants fit right in to this monster’s pattern of ruling. One of the books we use for the course is Oskar Skarsaune’s In the Shadow of the Temple: Jewish Influences on Early Christianity. The passage I read today began to explain how Jewish worship changed during the intertestamental period. For example, we read nothing of synagogues and Pharisees in the Old Testament, yet by the time Christ arrived they were the norm for God’s people. I’m only going to give you the very short and hopelessly incomplete reason for this, which was Alexander the Great.
I also want to say a few words about pizza. Tonight we had really the best dinner I could have hoped for on my first day of school: homemade deep-dish pizza. I asked James if he could remember who was over the last time we had pizza, and he correctly answered, “Mr. Walk-Walker.” That would be our beloved adjunct lecturer of Greek, Mr. Josh Walker, and his wife, Krystle, who graced our dinner table a few weeks ago. Josh is a knowledgeable man who can hold his own arguing on a range of topics, from omicrons to Wright’s views on justification to the War of 1812. I’m not saying that I always agree with him, simply that he is… staunch. Anyways, he also knows his starch, by which I mean I can rely on his opinion of pizza; and he called this particular deep-dish pizza, only a few bites in, and with all the heroic passion his Greek-intoxicated spirit could exert, the best homemade pizza he’d ever had. I liked it, too.
The recipe, if you’re interested:
Chicago-style deep-dish pizza from Annie’s Eats (of course!)