Q & A: English versus Literature Students

What do you think of the L&S English Department versus the CCS Literature Department? There were a few reasons why I chose to pose this question to English and Literature majors. Here are a few examples:

Example One: While studying in the L&S Honors Center, performing arts students were outside, waging a fake protest against the alphabet. An English major, also in the honors center, became quite aggravated… “Damn CCS Literature students, protesting grades!”

Example Two: During dinner with a Literature major, he stated, “I’m not saying that CCS Literature is better. All I’m saying is that if CCS sold shirts that said ‘I chose Literature because English wasn’t good enough,’ I’d buy it.”

Example Three: As I was tutoring a girl, she was shocked to learn I was a CCS Literature major as well as an L&S Film and Media Studies major – “Besides you, I’ve never talked to a CCS student, and I’ve hardly see them. Whenever I pass by the CCS building, there are students on the grass. Or at lunch, I’ll see someone eating alone, and I think he must be in CCS. Maybe it’s because you’re in both colleges…maybe that’s why you’re different.”

All in all, what some may think of CCS Literature students from these three examples are as follows: We are strange, pompous unicorns who like to lie in the grass.

There seems to be a feud between English and Literature students…one can only hope that someday, the twain shall meet…

What do you think of the L&S English Department versus the CCS Literature Department?

Irene Ward, L&S Art History Major and English Major (3^rd year)

I kind of thought that English students were more analytical and boring and CCS students were more creative and open-minded. English doesn’t have that same passion. It’s not that English students don’t care, but it’s not the same. I think CCS has a lot of perks as a smaller college.

Pamela Capalad, CCS Literature Major (4^th year)

I have to think about [it]…I’ve wondered about that myself. CCS Lit. kids are definitely weirder.

Annie Sterling, L&S Global Studies Major and English Major (4^th year)

CCS students seem more creative. They have a lot more freedom in how they formulate their essays. I think there’s a lot of stereotypes, and it’s true about CCS students being more like “hippies.” But they also have the courage to pursue what they want. English is more about how to analyze and respond. CCS attracts different people.

Mana Mostatabi, CCS Literature Major (3^rd Year)

There are a lot more historical courses in the English Department, as opposed to CCS Lit., where we read books and transcribe them. In English classes, they pick novels that have a shared theme. In Lit. classes, we pick one author and read six of their books. In CCS, there’s little incentive to work harder than you’ll need to.

Ronnie Choi, L&S Film and Media Studies Major and English Major (3^rd year)

Hmm, I’m not really sure because I don’t know many CCS Literature students, but I do know for the L&S English Department, there seems to be a focus on the history of the works we read. Although our understanding of the plot is important also, we need to learn about the historical context, the cultural context, and the development of the author in regards to how he or she got to the point of writing the work we’re reading. Also, we focus on the purpose of the work. Like, why is it written? What purpose does it serve? And, usually, it’s not a simple answer of entertaining the masses. Perhaps, with CCS Literature students, they focus more on the student’s own life to develop creativity? I’m not really sure!

Tyler Vickers, CCS Literature Major (3^rd Year)

I wouldn’t say that there are necessarily any intellectual distinctions between both types of English student, and any sort of comparison I might draw between the two would be in danger of becoming a biased generality. That being said, I think that those students who are exposed to CCS curriculum experience a greater degree of freedom in the work that they choose to do as well as come in direct contact with their professors which, depending on the strengths of the professor, allow them to take more responsibility in their education and better prepare themselves for theoretical understanding as well as creative expression. This experience, in turn, occasionally gives them a practical and useful foundation for success and innovation when they attend a class in L&S English or in any other discipline.

Michael Pecchio, CCS Literature (5^th year)

Since I haven’t actually taken classes in the English Department, I can’t say. I don’t think I could’ve learned as much about creative writing, or editing one’s own writing, in the English Dept.

Elana Wenocur, CCS Literature (4^th year)

I found [CCS Literature] to be a very mixed bag.

Jonathan Forbes, L&S Spanish Major and English Major (4^th year)

My understanding of the differences between CCS Literature and English Majors is that while English Majors just study American or British literature, CCS students can take literature courses from various foreign-language departments on campus. Also, the courses in literature that the College of Creative Studies offers seems to include a wide variety: from American and British literature, to literature in translation, to creative writing courses. Lastly, while in the English Department students usually write analytical papers, some CCS classes and students allow for the option to do less conventional forms of writing: journals, projects, stories, etc. And I suppose the most obvious thing is that English majors’ diplomas say “English” and CCS majors’ say “Creative Studies.”

Barry Spacks – Interview

How long have you taught?

I started teaching in 1952, at Indiana University. So I’ve been teaching for 55 years.

In CCS specifically?

I was off from teaching for six years, studying Buddhism at a Buddhist center in northern California. I came back in ‘96, and I think I’ve been teaching here for about nine years.

What prompted you to teach in CCS?

First off, the vitality and intelligence of the students. That reputation follows them all over campus. I was asked to do a mini course first. I did a couple of those while I was mainly still teaching in English. So I got an immediate close up taste of that quality. I think it’s really true what CCS claims, that it offers an undergraduate education that has the style of a graduate school education, and one of the characteristics of that of course is that you come much closer to being a colleague with your students rather than a schoolmaster…I really like that. The last thing I want to be is some sort of great authority figure. I want to release energies, I think that’s what I’m there for. It’s possible in CCS to be in a room full of folks in which there’s no fear on the part of the student, “Oh, what grade am I going to get?” No kind of class difference between the professor and the students. We’re all readers together, writers together, strivers together.

What is the difference between the students in the English Department and the Literature Department?

I was teaching a lot of large lecture courses there [in the English Department] and that was part of what made me feel a little bit starved for the immediate action of close up contact with students. I used to go up and down the aisles with my lavaliere and microphone and tried to get folks to do a little bit of discussion even though there were 300 in the room, tried to loosen up the lecture format…Folks in L&S have been trained to listen a lot more than folks in CCS who have been trained to respond and to come out with their style. There is obviously much more of a formal discipline involved in the English-Lit classes…the emphasis is less on direct creativity and more on study.

What do you think CCS students should ultimately get out of their education with the department? What skills should they leave college with?

It seems to me that all education in the arts and humanities has to do with developing maturity. Students these days are concerned a lot more with the bottom line than they were in my days as an undergraduate. We kind of took for granted that the rest of our lives would go swimmingly. People don’t have that luxury anymore so one can’t say “Oh, they should just concentrate on their studies, this is the most wonderful four years in their lives” without worrying too much about how there’s a payoff. I think in CCS there’s still this sense that the payoff is going to be in terms of taking on powers, intellectual, emotional, and in effect the word maturity sums it up. What we should talk about is a general education, basically getting what the Greeks used to call a Paideia, the sense of things, the sense of the way a particular culture works. And that’s what I think CCS students should look forward to, is that sense of the general education.

Campus Life According to Ty

I arrived at the Visitors’ Center at 2:00 on Tuesday, April 24^th, planning on joining a tour group incognito. Mission: Possible – discover what campus tour guides say (or do not say) about the College of Creative Studies. I did not wear my comfortable and oh so not fashionable UCSB sweatshirt for fear of being discovered. I turned my class ring around towards the inside of my hand so I could not be identified as a UCSB student.

Of course, I was dismayed when I checked in at the front desk and the receptionist immediately asked, “Aren’t you a student?”

“Yes,” I replied quite meekly, and sat beside a mother-daughter pair.

The receptionist sent our group of about ten people outside. The parents were atwitter with excitement, as the high schoolers and transfers were either too bored to move their mouths or too nervous to speak. The two transfers, two twenty something men, hung towards the back of the pack, and most obviously wanted this tour to be done quickly. The younger students clung to their parents like they were security blankets.

I firmly believe that the majority of the questions asked during the campus tour were merely posed so that parents’ could show off their kids’ intelligence. One father, whom I will call “USC Father,” immediately asked our tour guide, Ty, why his son should choose UCSB over USC.

After all, USC Father said, “My son got into USC.”

Then another parent, “UCSD Mother,” chimed in, “My daughter got into UCSD. Why should she choose UCSB?”

“Ah yes,” I thought to myself. “The tour hasn’t even begun. Lucky me.”

Our first stop: A view of the Recreational Center. Or as Ty described it, “My favorite place at UCSB.”

My entire group stared at the gym, bored, as Ty interrupted himself every twenty or so seconds with “I work at the Rec. Cen. ,” “I love the Rec. Cen.,” and adoringly “Look at the grass at the Rec. Cen. It’s water resistant. All weather.”

You’d think he expected “oohhs” and “aahhs” from the crowd, so I kind of felt bad for the guy.

“Any questions?” Ty asked, with the kind of excitement which is meant to conceal “Please, don’t ask questions.”

Another father, whom I shall call “Sergeant Father,” (he looked like he belonged in the military…arms crossed, no smile, and a buzz cut to boot) posed an observation: “There seem to be a lot of bike paths. Do a lot of people use bikes here?”

“Yes, but I’ll talk about that later,” Ty responded, because I am sure Sergeant Father was on pins and needles waiting for the answer.

Next stop: The bus stop. I didn’t learn anything new about the bus stop, except that it could be talked about for seven minutes.

Once again, Ty asked, “Any questions?”

Silence.

As Ty backed away from the bus stop, walking backwards in his flip flops, he lost a “flop.”

“It’s hard to walk backwards in sandals,” explained Ty, leaning to retrieve his footwear.

“It must be,” said UCSD Mother.

While we continued on our way, it was obvious that UCSD Mother was trying to become “buddy-buddy” with Ty, as she walked in front of the other tour members and beside him.

“How often does it rain in Santa Barbara?” she asked Ty.

“Hardly ever. It like rained once last year,” said Ty.

“That explains the dry weather,” said UCSD Mother.

Our group stopped in front of Cheadle Hall. Ty talked about huge lecture halls, and how the majority of students will rely on counselors at Cheadle Hall to get by at UCSB, unless you are one of the few at College of Engineering, or even fewer at College of Creative Studies.

One prospective student asked the very question that was on my mind – “What is the College of Creative Studies?”

Excited for an answer, I turned towards Ty.

“Uh, we’ll talk about it later.”

Pissed and expecting that he obviously had no clue what the College of Creative Studies was, we moved on to the quad area by Ellison Hall, then filed past the Davidson Library.

“We have two libraries on campus,” Ty said.

“Where’s the other library?” UCSD Mother asked.

“It’s the music and arts library, but nobody really uses it,” Ty responded.

Ty rambled statistics about the library, and a bunch of numbers. The 24 hour study room is open for 24 hours, there are seven floors in the library, it houses 8 million books, twenty four million if you count interlibrary loan, etc.

At last, we crossed the bike path that would soon lead us to the CCS Building. At this point, Ty answered Sergeant Father’s question with the revealing, “Yes, there are a lot of bikes here. Any they always have the right of way.”

UCSD Mother commented, “There don’t seem to be a lot of students outside.”

Ty said, “That’s because there’s a lot of students in classes right now. In an hour, you’ll see a lot of people outside.”

UCSD Mother grimaced, her suspicion obvious, “There are very few people outside.”

We came to the CCS Building. “Finally,” I thought to myself, “I’ll reveal him and his L&S employers for the frauds they are!”

Unfortunately (well, I guess fortunately) Ty was basically a poster child for CCS. He dubbed it “the graduate school for undergraduates,” saying it was a “unique” (take that word for what you will) experience. Ty also proceeded to say that it was a very competitive school to get into, only accepting 100 out of every 900 applicants (a statistic I would like to get confirmed…when Ty earlier said that it only rains once a year in Santa Barbara, that the dining commons food was “awesome,” and that Manzanita Village was built only four years ago, I knew I had some fact checking to do).

“Any questions?” Ty asked after he finished his CCS and housing spiel.

Pause.

“What are the bathrooms like in dorms?” someone asked.

The highlight of my hour and fifteen minute experience had to be the wrap-up at the end. As we weaved through the UCEN, the son of USC Father snuck up to Ty and whispered, “Is there a Weed Co-op in IV?”

“No,” Ty said. “There might be one in Santa Barbara, though.”

I believe this was a blatant lie on Ty’s part to preserve the reputation of our school, but I commend him for that.

As we neared the tour’s end, USC Father asked for directions to the nearest IV party.

“Are there any alternatives to the party scene?” asked UCSD Mother.

“Yes,” answered Ty, pointing to an Improvability sign. “Like Improvability. And movies.”

UCSD Mother nodded blankly.

“No one has asked me the question I get asked the most,” informed Ty, preparing for a blaze of glory, “And I’ll tell you what that question is. People ask me why I chose UCSB. And I’ll tell you…” he paused, preparing for his dénouement, “…It was my last choice.”

Though he tried to justify this statement by saying how much he enjoyed UCSB now, it still was a letdown.

A mother and daughter who had not spoken during the tour approached Ty, the mother practically pushing the girl forward.

“Go ahead,” Pushy Mother said, “ask your question.”

Then, UCSD Mother asked why she should choose UCSB over UCSD.

Then, USC Father asked why his son should choose UCSB over USC.

Then, I asked myself “Why,” and afterwards kicked myself for asking another question.

10 (Okay, 11) Things I'll Miss About UCSB

1. Having dinner with your friends without having to make plans first, because they’re a five minute walk away.
2. Being judged by professors and peers who care, rather than professionals who couldn’t care less.
3. Introducing yourself to others with a handshake rather than a resume.
4. Having my mother call and say, “I wish I owned beachfront property.”
5. Living in “Never Never Land,” where it seems that the world consists of people in their twenties.
6. Being happy that with the end of Finals, all life’s problems seem to temporarily fade away.
7. Leaving for class early so I could lie in the sun, and simply be.
8. When I need a shoulder to cry on, having a good friend who lives in the room below mine.
9. The excuse to eat carbohydrates nonstop for at least a one week period because they give me energy and increase my brainpower for Finals.
10. Learning for the sake of learning.
11. Oh and one more – seeing dolphins from my window! Better than looking at my Lassen print.

My Problems with UCSB

The Great Gatsby partying
The Dorian Grey hedonism
The absence of seasons which denote the passage of time
The realization that it is entirely possible to go for months without talking to a person of color
The fact that you could party before your finals and it will not drastically effect your performance
The lack of alternative scene
The truth that Freebirds is not that good (Am I the only one?)
The empty library
The lack of studying, researching, and overall learning
The large impersonal, anxiety ridden lecture halls
The people sleeping in the large impersonal anxiety ridden lecture halls
The fake tans
The schools “diversity” limited to small non-blonde groups
The eating disorders
The reporting in a town with no news
The sameness
The faint smell of marajuana always circulating in the halls
The professors who try so hard, but so few students appreciate it
The T.A’s eyeing you because they know you’re the only one who does the reading
The drunkenness
The pretend drunkenness
The larger selection of Paul Frank merchandise than books at the UCEN
The frequency of month-long relationships
The So-Cal/ Nor-Cal conflict
The provocatively posed Facebook pictures
The dining commons opening at 10:30 a.m. on weekends (Does no one wake up before that?)
The quarter filled lecture halls for a full class
The cry for a challenge

Gaucho Fencing

Sweat and Swords: An introduction to UCSB fencing culture

The second most common response I get when I tell people that I’m on the UCSB fencing team is, “Cool! I’ve always wanted to try that.” Then they may go on to tell me that they took the fencing class taught by team coach Tim Robinson, or that their roommate used to do it in highschool, or that ever since seeing Pirates of the Caribbean they just been dying to try it. This is all encouraging to hear, even that last one, because despite the allure, the UCSB fencing team is consistently quite small, and they’re always on the lookout for fresh blood, so to speak. Which unfortunately brings me to the most common response I get from people who learn that I fence for UCSB:

“Whoa, we have a fencing team?”

This is rarely said to us directly, but overheard in passing if one of us should be wearing a club T-shirt or jacket. Yes, in the wide range of Gaucho sports, one could say that the fencing team is stuck on the fringe. All but ignored by the Daily Nexus, with events attended only by other fencers and their families, and a cheerleading team that despite pleas from last year’s administration, would not “bring it on” for us, it would be easy to blame our obscurity on others. But the truth is most of the blame lies with the sport itself. Modern or Olympic fencing as some people call it, is a very strange thing. Your average Joe who wanders into a practice at the top floor at Robinson Gym looking for break dancing or tango lessons only to find a room full of white clad humanoids wildly motioning at each other with frail, metal rods, would not know what was going on.

This may be because people think of fencing in its original context, that is, young men of breeding settling their differences with a glove, repartee, and a duel. The action was probably easier to follow back when there was bleeding involved. Olympic fencing is very different and has distilled that facet of 17^th-19^th century European culture over the centuries to be a better reflection of the modern age. Today’s fencers are quick to adopt new technology to make the sport fairer, easier to judge and generally more manageable and consequently Modern fencing has become somewhat dependent on new technology to keep score, although many clubs still practice dry, or non-electric fencing. The result is a far cry from Errol Flynn, and better resembles something out of a science fiction novel. The fencing bout is restricted to a thin rectangular strip and limited to two opponents at a time and most bouts go up to five points. If it’s a dry bout, four hand judges will stand at the corners of the strip to help the director call the action. If it’s an electric bout, each fencer will literally be plugged into a box that calls the action. Each fencer wears a wire connected to that box that threads underneath their jackets, running through the armpit and sleeve and finally plugging into their weapon. Changing technology inevitably changes how people fence. For instance, a machine will usually recognize a touch better than a distractible hand judge, so electric fencing has more room to be subtle than dry fencing. Even the speed at which a box will recognize a touch can impact how someone will fence.

The Basics

Modern fencing has three different weapons that people have the option to train in, each one having different rules, techniques and target areas. The best way to explain them, once again, is in their original context, or rather, how they killed people.

The weapon that most people begin learning with is foil. Foil was originally designed for the quick, painless kill. Consequently the target area is the torso, where all of those important internal organs are, namely the heart. It’s a point weapon, which means that touches are made with the end of the blade instead of the side. Foil bouts are governed by a set of rules called “right of way” which, even after three years of fencing foil, I can’t understand or explain for the life of me. Suffice it then to say that they help the director decide who gets the point when two people stab each other at the same time.

Epee has a more mischievous air, being a traditional dueling weapon. The original point of an epee duel was to hurt and humiliate your opponent as much as possible. This means that everything is target area, including face and crotch and there are no rules of right of way. It is also a point weapon. Epee bouts are the easiest to follow, and epeeists usually get the most bruises.

The final weapon is saber, and was introduced last in the modern fencing repertoire. Sabre is a very different ballgame because it isn’t a point weapon but an edged weapon, meaning that saberists make attacks with the side of the blade and not necessarily with the point (though those count too). This is because the point of saber is to make your opponent bleed, so attacks are made on everything from the waist up, including wrists, neck and head. Saber also follows the rules of right of way, and seems to attract violent people.

Fencing Culture: Competitions, and Decorum Don’ts

Modern fencing can also be called Competitive Fencing because fencing clubs often compete in tournaments where they fence against other teams in their league. The spirit of these tournaments always depends on the people there, (and let me say now that most fencers are laid back, friendly and good sports) but it’s not uncommon to see a grudge match or two between a pair of rivals. A fencing rivalry can start pretty easily because tournaments can rub one’s emotions more raw than usual, especially if you’re having a bad day. All it might take is a wrong look, a snide tone or a violation of the many Decorum Don’ts listed below, and you could have a lifelong nemesis, at least on the fencing strip.

The Decorum Don’ts

Now, once again, to most fencers most of the time, these are no big deal. But during a big tournament where you feel like your sole purpose is to be someone else’s pincushion, or you get cheated out of a stunning victory by an incompetent director, the following quirks can get old REAL fast.

Screaming: Fencers from all weapons (but mostly saber and foil) love to do this. There are several reasons a fencer might scream, but usually it has to do with right of way. Because right of way is so freakishly complex at times, a fencer might employ screaming to convince a director that a touch was theirs. For some fencers however, screaming has become a reflex and they will let out a piercing shriek any time they do anything, making them really unpleasant to be around or worse, fence. Sometimes emotions are running so high, a normally quiet fencer may even do it without thinking about it when they’ve made a touch that they’re particularly proud of, but many people consider this justifiable behavior.

Being a sore loser/snobby winner: This can include mask throwing, refusing to shake hands, salute or make eye contact with an opponent, and cheering one’s own victory while still on the strip. Fencers who do this come off as immature, disrespectful and inconsiderate so naturally it’s pretty common. Usually the decent thing to do, win or lose is to salute, shake hands, make eye contact and maybe say “Thank you” or “Good bout,” (saberists, usually having more physically intense bouts, sometimes hug afterwards.) I for one get really irked when people don’t bother to look me in the eye after a bout, especially if they’ve won, so if I know that won’t, I just refuse to let go of a handshake until they do.

Talking to an opponent during a bout: Trying to psyche out your opponent during a bout is generally considered a tacky move, especially if it’s verbal. I once had an opponent silence my cheering teammates by saying, “Now watch me put her in her place,”. Sometimes fencers try to stimulate antediluvian dueling banter during a bout, such as “En garde, you whoreson rat!” and the like. This can be distracting.

Turning your back on an opponent during a bout: Not only is this bad manners, it’s against the rules for safety reasons because the fencing mask doesn’t protect the back of the head. This can lead to a black card penalty; an automatic win for the other person.

These are the main standout “don’ts” that I’ve learned about during my time as a fencer. There are also a lot of carding offenses that are too many to list in full like using malfunctioning equipment and accidentally/intentionally body slamming opponents.

The Other Side of the Coin

Now, the UCSB fencing club is not the only fencing related club on campus and people often confuse them with the Society for Creative Anachronism, or the SCA for short. The SCA has a completely different approach to fencing, despite sharing roots with Modern fencing. Where Modern fencing focuses on one aspect of their roots and continue to evolve with technology, the SCA endeavors to recreate the entire culture as accurately as Safety will allow.

Initially, my knowledge of the SCA was limited to what members of the fencing club would tell me about them, and since most of them were irritated at being confused with the SCA, some of the accounts were laced with a thinly veiled hostility. The harsher among them may criticize the SCA’s technique and accuse them of being theatrical. These people have led several pilgrimages to the SCA’s practice space, (the courtyard of the music building) to “kick some ass” but the accounts of said quests are mixed. More tolerant members of the club say it all depends on what individuals want to get out of the fencing experience.

I finally got a chance to see the SCA practice in their native habitat when a teammate invited me to come with her and visit one of her friends. I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to get some more background on this supposedly blistering rivalry.

Stay tuned for Part II: The Belly of the Beast…

Sweat and Swords Part II

You could say that the Society for Creative Anachronism, or SCA for short, has a higher profile than the UCSB fencing club by virtue of their obscurity. The school does not provide the SCA with their own space to practice like it does with the fencing team, so for the twenty years that the SCA have had a club at this campus, they have been forced to find their own grounds to fence on. For the past eight years, that space has been the courtyard of the music building, where any passer by can come in and observe. Consequently, people are likelier to see the SCA in all its glory than they are to see the more cloistered Gaucho fencers. Some people that the SCA encounter regularly are their hosts, the music students and faculty. Both parties have retained a tepid rapport over the years.

“They hate when we make too much noise during their concerts but they love that we chase the skateboarders away,” says coach Jonathan Getty.

When I arrived at the music building courtyard one Wednesday night, Jonathan Getty was giving a small group of students their fencing lesson. Around them were several pairs of people fencing their way across the courtyard. They weren’t operating strictly on a line, but moving in circles, up and down stairs and some of them were even on their knees.

Making the Case for Christ

First Impressions

After a few days of walking past the huge red exhibits with nothing more than a quick glance and a noncommittal shrug, I finally get up the courage to walk up to one for a closer look. The board is covered with little pieces of paper that share the heading “I Confess” and leave a space for people to write their own anonymous confessions. The responses run from “I have doubted God’s existence” to “I love cheese and I don’t care if it makes me fat”. One of the organizers approaches me as I scan the spread.

“Would you like to add something to the wall?” he asks.

“Oh! No thank you. I’m Jewish.”

“Hey, that’s okay, everybody needs to confess sometimes.”

I decline as politely as I can, and dismiss myself, thinking that maybe I should have added a quote from the Tony Kushner play, Angels in America, “We Jews don’t have confession. We have guilt.”

I was initially wary of this group’s efforts, having seen their bold banners and booths displayed across the UCSB campus. The college has, after all, experienced its share of zealots in the past, with demonstrations occurring as early as the week before from a group who aggressively spoke out against gays and atheists, citing their actions as “confrontational evangelism”. The campus’s relationship with these groups have usually been a tense policy of tolerance (although this event required police involvement on account of the noise), and any time an event of this nature would erupt, op-eds in the Nexus grudgingly reminding us of the First Amendment would be quick to follow.

Oppressive to the senses in red and black, these new displays bear messages like “I Confess That I Am Selfish, Vain and Prideful When I Should Realize I Am Nothing Without Christ” or “I Confess That I Am a Sinner and That Christ With His Death and Resurrection Frees Me From the Confines of Sin”. People involved in the project in turn wear red T-shirts with “I Confess” written in the front in large, static letters. Some people wear jackets, cutting the message down to just, “Confess”. There are other signs with messages like “I Confess That the Lunatic Christian that Does Nothing but Condemn and Accuse, Infuriates Me,” but I was sure that these were a prank, an act of retaliation from a rival campus group against a new onslaught of intolerance. No way could these be related.

Still, I can’t help but be interested in this project’s approach. Unlike the previous groups, this one encourages participation from passers-by by inviting them to write their confessions on the big red board. No one is forced to do this, and when I read the responses, I can see that some people took the chance to express things they really needed to say. I decide that they deserve a second look. The next day I ask the group with the booth outside the Ucen about the public confessions.

“It’s not really about confessing your sins,” one of the organizers explains. “As the Christian group on campus, we’re just seeking to confess to people how we don’t live up to Jesus, how a lot of the time Christians are hypocrites and they hurt other people.”

She directs me to the guy who came up with the idea for the public confessions, Real Life organizer Brett Jensen. Real Life is the Christian group on campus that is running the whole project, which they are calling Confessions Week.

“The cards I just came up with,” he says. “I thought it would be something that would draw people around it, kind of stir up conversation about it. I just thought it would be kind of a cool idea. The real design for this--” he says, gesturing towards the red booth struggling to stay up against the wind, “--we got from a book called Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller, he talks about it, where they actually build a booth and they do this confession thing-”

“Like a private confession?” I cut in.

“Yeah, that’s what people go in there expecting to do,” he explains. “What it really is, is someone inside confessing the sins of Christianity to them, like one on one, saying, ‘Hey I’m sorry about this and that, and I’m sorry if you’ve been hurt in your life’,”

The concept of Christians apologizing is an inventive one, and it ranges from offenses done in the name of Christ (the examples that Real Life cite are the Crusades and the Inquisition), to everyday evils committed by Joe Everyman Christian.

“I haven’t loved people the way that Jesus did,” says fellow organizer Jeff Pauls. “He spent time with prostitutes and the poor. I ignore homeless people, and all sorts of people that I meet.” According to Jeff, people are really responding to this.

“I know people who have stepped into confession booths and they’ve been confessed to and they’ve just teared up. A lot of people have been really hurt by Christianity.”

Jeff is a CCS alumnus but continues to participate in Real Life after graduating. He has a broad, friendly grin and towers over me. He’s eager to answer my questions and clear up misconceptions I have about the project. Firstly, their goal is not conversion. If they get people interested, great, he says, but what they really want to do is to present a picture of Jesus separate from what he is commonly associated with, or as he puts it, “to look at Jesus through the crap.” Jeff is confident that if people understand who Jesus really is, the product will sell itself.

“People are going to choose what they want.” He says. “I’m not gonna argue someone into Christianity, that’s a ridiculous idea.”

It’s clear then that my initial reaction to the project is quite different from what they are actually about and this brings up an interesting point. For a group that appears to be ecumenical, open minded and ready to take responsibility for the wrongs committed in the name of their savior for anyone willing to listen, why choose such an abrasive looking set of displays?

“We wanted a color that would stand out,” says Jensen. “We knew that some of the government parties were probably going to be doing something this week, so we tried to stay away from the colors that they normally pick like blue and green. Somebody proposed it we were like ‘Oh, that’s great!’”

Jeff also says that the colors were useful in confronting people, without being, well, confrontational.

“We’re trying to be more submissive and admit ‘Look we’ve been aggressive for years, we want to humble ourselves and say we’re sorry.’ And to be louder than the people with bullhorns and not preach hate speech we have to have loud colors,”

It’s a clever idea, it may help that people are intimidated by the colors at first, says Jeff.

“They expect us to be political, and I think they’re excited [when they discover] that we’re not. We’re not trying to preach a message, we’re just trying to say the message has been preached and it’s been really misinterpreted, sorry.”

The Main Event

Confessions Week culminated in an event called Confessions of a Modern Day Christian, a night of music, poetry, dance, and a sermon of sorts by speaker Ken Virzi. As I look for a seat in I.V. theater, I can see that this is a closer crowd than most. People greet each other like they haven’t spoken in years. Girls are hugging everyone in sight, guys are sneaking up and tackling each other in the aisles. Almost no one sits alone, save me. Finally the lights dim and the first act takes the stage, a young woman reading a poem about breaking her promise to God and sleeping with her boyfriend before marriage. She says she is sorry that she broke her promise, but sorrier that she made it before she truly understood what she was promising.

“I sleep with my boyfriend, and I don’t feel the need to change.”

Then a guitarist and a guy drumming on a wooden crate play transitional music as the dancers take the stage, three girls who stare at the floor, standing in formation. Their music begins, they begin to dance, sometimes together, sometimes not, violently pirouetting, begging and being pushed away. Finally the girl in the middle is left prostrate on the ground as the other two walk away. The lights dim, the guitarist and drummer continue to play music. The next act assembles on stage left. It’s two guys with mics and one begins to beatbox. Is that what I think it is? Yes. It’s Christian rap. The crowd begins to hoot and holler and the second guy starts rapping.

“C’mon everyone let’s tell the truth / we all hypocrites both me and you / we say one thing and we do the next / like a girl who don’t drink but smokes a lot of cigarettes”

The crowd claps through all three verses and finally it’s time for the speaker. Ken Virzi has a calm voice that falls at the end of every sentence like disappointment. He stands before the crowd and catalogues the wrongs of those who practice his faith.

“On behalf of this huge dysfunctional family, I confess.”

He starts out with Christians at the top of the heap “In politics Christians have way overstepped their bounds…I confess there has been dishonesty, there has been manipulation there has been power struggle…I will confess there have been Christians at the head of some of the ugliest stuff that happens,”

He then moves down the ladder to the clergy and religious leaders that are trusted and respected, mentioning people who have abused that trust by stealing from church coffers, and committing adultery and pedophilia. He then moves down even further to the normal and the everyday, to the indifference and subtler evils of the average citizens.

“When I have friends tell me that they would never even consider becoming a Christian, I see a lot of reasons why.”

But he turns it around and begs forgiveness for these offences, citing the love that Christ had for people as a reason to follow him. He talks about the impact Jesus made over the centuries in literature, music, government and art. But for him, it’s not good enough to say that every action has an opposite reaction and I believe him when he says he’s sorry, for what he’s done and for what his faith has done. Maybe he’s a bit too sorry. He relates a story when he and his friends traveled to Italy and were stuck in Pittsburgh for two days. He was annoyed and took it out on the people around him, and in telling he makes this out to be such a horrible unchristian act. Unpleasant I can see, but unchristian? His constant self flagellating reminds me of my state of mind when I was in highschool, where I felt I could do no right and all of my motives were ugly and wrong. It’s true that Real Life emphasizes on ones own relationship with God and discourages judging others, but what about over judging oneself?