Drawn to Form: The Academic Nude and the Art School Mode

Male Nude in the Studio of Bonnat, Laurits Tuxen (1877)

Long before museums and galleries became the homes of the male nude, it lived in the studios. In the ateliers of the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris, the Royal Academy in London, and the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts in the United States, generations of students learned the ideal proportions of the human form not through imagination—but by closely observing the naked man before them.

Paul Delaroche’s Study of a Male Nude (c. 1835)

The academic nude wasn’t just a subject of study; it was a rite of passage. Drawing the male model became a disciplined practice that shaped not only artists’ technical skill, but also Western ideals of masculinity, beauty, and form. In the 19th century, the École des Beaux-Arts institutionalized the male nude as the pinnacle of artistic study. The male figure, more than the female, was thought to embody harmony and proportion, a living reference to both ancient sculpture and Renaissance anatomical studies. The famed “Concours de Torse,” or Torso Competition, showcased how aspiring painters honed their craft on the male body, rendering each muscle with academic precision. A striking example is Paul Delaroche’s Study of a Male Nude (c. 1835), a dramatically lit figure standing in a contrapposto pose, his flesh rendered with the same reverence one might apply to a marble Apollo. Here, individuality fades; the model becomes a type, a vessel for timeless ideals.

Study of a Male Nude Seen from Behind, William Etty (c. 1830s)

In London, the Royal Academy Schools upheld similar values. Students began by copying antique plaster casts, gradually earning the right to work in the Life Room, where a live male model stood nude on a platform under harsh light and stricter silence. These models often came from the working classes, their anonymity preserved even as their bodies were meticulously recorded in sketch after sketch. William Etty, a British painter committed to the nude in an often prudish art culture, created countless studies that quietly smuggled eroticism into the academic process. His Study of a Male Nude Seen from Behind (c. 1830s), now housed at Tate Britain, transforms a backlit model into an object of lyrical sensuality, every curve of the body rendered with lingering attention.

Bill Duckett Nude, Thomas Eakins (ca. 1889)

In the United States, Thomas Eakins redefined the academic nude—and ignited controversy. At the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, Eakins encouraged both male and female students to observe fully nude male models, a practice that pushed the limits of American Victorian propriety. He sometimes posed nude himself, blurring the boundaries between instructor, artist, and subject. One of his oil sketches of which no photo exists, The Male Nude (c. 1885), strips away allegory or idealism entirely. A model sits awkwardly, raw and unguarded. There is no attempt to mythologize or elevate, only to observe. The tension in Eakins’s work lies in this realism—an almost clinical intimacy that reveals more than anatomy.

Young Male Nude Seated by the Sea, Jean-Hippolyte Flandrin  (1836)

Though most academic studies of the nude remained in the studio, some evolved into finished works for public exhibition. These retained the formal lessons of the academy while cloaking the nude in mythological or historical justification. Jean-Hippolyte Flandrin’s Young Male Nude Seated by the Sea (1836) exemplifies this genre. A solitary youth, nude and introspective, sits beside an imagined shore. The painting, while formally academic, gestures toward emotional vulnerability and latent desire. It is not just an ideal—it is a reverie. Often described as “the most beautiful boy in French painting,” the figure suggests a coded eroticism beneath its classical restraint.

A Life Class, Unidentified artist and Formerly attributed to William Hogarth (c. early 19th century)

The art school nude was shaped not just by technique, but by a complex social structure. The model—often unnamed—was a laborer in a rarefied world. In the archives of the École des Beaux-Arts or the Musée Rodin, one finds charcoal drawings of men reclining, lunging, or simply standing, their bodies lit and studied as if they were statues. An anonymous drawing from around 1890 captures a reclining male nude in dramatic foreshortening—an image at once clinical and intimate. These men were employed for their endurance, strength, and presence. Though rarely memorialized, their bodies shaped generations of artists' understanding of the human form.

The academic nude may appear orderly or formulaic, but beneath its surface lies a subtle history of aesthetic pleasure, regulation, and coded longing. In the Life Room, artists were taught not only how to render the male body, but how to look at it—intently, repeatedly, and within the sanctioned space of artistic discipline. Today, those once-forgotten studies are being reconsidered—not just as technical exercises, but as visual records of how masculinity was taught, observed, and quietly desired.

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Song of the Queen Bee

Song of the Queen Bee
By E.B. White

New Yorker Magazine 1945

"The breeding of the bee," says a United States Department
of Agriculture bulletin on artificial insemination, "has
always been handicapped by the fact that the queen mates
in the air with whatever drone she encounters."

When the air is wine and the wind is free
and the morning sits on the lovely lea
and sunlight ripples on every tree
Then love-in-air is the thing for me
I'm a bee,
I'm a ravishing, rollicking, young queen bee,
That's me.
I wish to state that I think it's great,
Oh, it's simply rare in the upper air,
It's the place to pair
With a bee.

Let old geneticists plot and plan,
They're stuffy people, to a man;
Let gossips whisper behind their fan.
(Oh, she does?
Buzz, buzz, buzz!)
My nuptial flight is sheer delight;
I'm a giddy girl who likes to swirl,
To fly and soar
And fly some more,
I'm a bee.
And I wish to state that I'll always mate
With whatever drone I encounter.

There's a kind of a wild and glad elation
In the natural way of insemination;
Who thinks that love is a handicap
Is a fuddydud and a common sap,
For I am a queen and I am a bee,
I'm devil-may-care and I'm fancy-free,
The test tube doesn't appeal to me,
Not me,
I'm a bee.
And I'm here to state that I'll always mate
With whatever drone I encounter.

Mares and cows. by calculating,
Improve themselves with loveless mating,
Let groundlings breed in the modern fashion,
I'll stick to the air and the grand old passion;
I may be small and I'm just a bee
But I won't have science improving me,
Not me,
I'm a bee.
On a day that's fair with a wind that's free,
Any old drone is a lad for me.

I've no flair for love moderne,
It's far too studied, far too stern,
I'm just a bee---I'm wild, I'm free,
That's me.
I can't afford to be too choosy;
In every queen there's a touch of floozy,
And it's simply rare
In the upper air
And I wish to state
That I'll always mate
With whatever drone I encounter.

Man is a fool for the latest movement,
He broods and broods on race improvement;
What boots it to improve a bee
If it means the end of ecstasy?
(He ought to be there
On a day that's fair,
Oh, it's simply rare.
For a bee.)

Man's so wise he is growing foolish,
Some of his schemes are downright ghoulish;
He owns a bomb that'll end creation
And he wants to change the sex relation,
He thinks that love is a handicap,
He's a fuddydud, he's a simple sap;
Man is a meddler, man's a boob,
He looks for love in the depths of a tube,
His restless mind is forever ranging,
He thinks he's advancing as long as he's changing,
He cracks the atom, he racks his skull,
Man is meddlesome, man is dull,
Man is busy instead of idle,
Man is alarmingly suicidal,
Me, I am a bee.

I am a bee and I simply love it,
I am a bee and I'm darn glad of it,
I am a bee, I know about love:
You go upstairs, you go above,
You do not pause to dine or sup,
The sky won't wait ---it's a long trip up;
You rise, you soar, you take the blue,
It's you and me, kid, me and you,
It's everything, it's the nearest drone,
It's never a thing that you find alone.
I'm a bee,
I'm free.

If any old farmer can keep and hive me,
Then any old drone may catch and wife me;
I'm sorry for creatures who cannot pair
On a gorgeous day in the upper air,
I'm sorry for cows that have to boast
Of affairs they've had by parcel post,
I'm sorry for a man with his plots and guile,
His test-tube manner, his test-tube smile;
I'll multiply and I'll increase
As I always have---by mere caprice;
For I am a queen and I am a bee,
I'm devil-may-care and I'm fancy-free,
Love-in-air is the thing for me,
Oh, it's simply rare
In the beautiful air,
And I wish to state
That I'll always mate
With whatever drone I encounter.


About the Poem

E.B. White’s poem “Song of the Queen Bee,” first published in The New Yorker in 1945, is a clever and spirited satire that juxtaposes the natural instincts of bees with the scientific efforts of human intervention, particularly artificial insemination in agriculture. Written in the voice of a vivacious and unapologetically free-spirited queen bee, the poem champions instinct, spontaneity, and natural selection over modern, mechanized reproductive control. Beneath its playful rhymes and jaunty tone lies a poignant critique of mid-20th-century scientific rationalism and a celebration of freedom, joy, and natural order.

The poem opens with a dry quotation from a U.S. Department of Agriculture bulletin, which laments the uncontrolled nature of bee reproduction—namely that “the queen mates in the air with whatever drone she encounters.” White immediately counters this bureaucratic tone with a burst of lively verse, allowing the queen bee herself to take the stage in a whimsical monologue that is part burlesque, part manifesto. With lines like “I’m devil-may-care and I’m fancy-free,” the queen revels in her role as a creature of instinct and sensual freedom. She mocks the efforts of scientists (“Let old geneticists plot and plan”) and romanticizes the ecstasy of natural mating flights—elevating love, not as a sterile process, but as an exhilarating and sacred ritual in “the upper air.”

Throughout, White uses breezy rhymes and playful repetition to contrast the sterile control of modern science with the lyrical abandon of natural life. Phrases such as “I'll always mate / With whatever drone I encounter” become refrains that assert autonomy and challenge-imposed order. Importantly, the poem does not argue against science wholesale—it critiques a specific kind of arrogance: mankind's “test-tube manner” and the belief that all life should conform to rational systems. In White’s telling, this hubris leads to folly and even destruction: “He owns a bomb that'll end creation / And he wants to change the sex relation.” The poem culminates in a bold affirmation of life lived on its own terms—wild, instinctual, and gloriously imperfect.

By adopting the perspective of a bee, White both satirizes and humanizes this argument. The queen is irreverent, humorous, and joyfully defiant, serving as a stand-in for nature herself—resisting reduction and refusing to be “improved.” Her message is clear: love, life, and freedom are too rare and too beautiful to be confined by the narrow vision of “improvers.”


About the Poet

E.B. White (1899–1985) was an American writer best known for his contributions to both children's literature and essays that captured the American spirit with elegance and wit. Born in Mount Vernon, New York, White graduated from Cornell University in 1921, where he earned the nickname "Andy," a name he carried throughout his life. He began his career as a journalist before joining The New Yorker magazine in its early days, where his clear, playful prose helped define the publication’s distinctive style.

White is perhaps most beloved for his classic children's books, including Charlotte's Web (1952), Stuart Little (1945), and The Trumpet of the Swan (1970), each celebrated for their humor, tenderness, and profound insights into life and friendship. In addition to his fiction, he co-authored the widely influential writing guide The Elements of Style with his former professor William Strunk Jr., further cementing his legacy as a master of prose. White's work earned him numerous honors, including a Pulitzer Prize special citation in 1978.

Throughout his life, White combined a deep love of nature, animals, and rural life with a sharp observation of human nature. Whether reflecting on the bustle of city life or the quiet rhythms of his Maine farm, his writing remains enduring for its humanity, clarity, and understated wisdom.

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Monday 😩

I do not want to go to work today. I woke up with a bit of a migraine and would have preferred to stay in bed. However, I have a few things I have to do this morning, but I may leave early if my migraine doesn’t improve.

Seen Through His Works

"For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse."

— Romans 1:20

I have never understood how someone could look around at the wonders of this world—the towering mountains, the delicate pattern of a snowflake, the mysterious depths of the oceans—and think, "Nothing but natural evolution is involved in the creation of all this beauty." It seems impossible to me that all of this could be the result of mere happenstance. From the moment I was first aware of the world’s complexity and grandeur, I have believed that God’s hand was present in it all, guiding creation with care and intention.

I believe in evolution. There is ample evidence of it, and I do not believe the world is only four thousand years old, as strict creationists insist. Scientific discovery does not diminish my faith; instead, it enlarges my awe. To me, evolution is not a threat to God's existence—it is a testament to His brilliance. A world that adapts, grows, and changes is far more magnificent than one that appeared rigid and finished. Creation was not a single act frozen in time, but a symphony, still unfolding under the quiet direction of a divine Composer.

And yet, my faith has not been without struggles. There have been seasons where I asked painful questions: Why, God? Why is there pain written into the bodies of newborns? Why are some born to suffer? Why was I given a body and a heart that do not always align with the world’s easy expectations? And perhaps most piercingly—why did You make me gay, when life would have been simpler, smoother, quieter if You had not?

In those moments of questioning, it would be easy to believe that creation was left adrift, as some philosophies suggest. During the Enlightenment, many embraced deism, a belief that God set the universe in motion like a master clockmaker and then stepped back, no longer involved in the daily unfolding of events. Many of the United States’ Founding Fathers were deists, believing that God could be known through nature and reason but doubting divine intervention in human affairs.

I understand the temptation of that view. And in part, I agree: I believe God set the laws of the universe into motion with extraordinary wisdom and creativity. Yet unlike the deists, I believe He still intervenes—not always, not predictably, but lovingly and purposefully. He has not abandoned His creation. He has not abandoned me.

When my heart wavers, I turn again to the promises written in Scripture. I cling to the words of Jeremiah 29:11: "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

I am not a mistake. You are not a mistake. We are part of a creation that, though marred by brokenness and mystery, still sings of a Creator whose fingerprints are everywhere. When I look inward, when I look outward, I see Him. His eternal power and divine nature have been clearly seen—from the beginning until now—and though I do not understand all His ways, I trust that His plan is full of hope, even when the path is hard.Today, may we open our eyes and see anew. slow down. Look closely. Listen carefully. Let the marvels of creation draw you nearer to the Creator. May we look upon the world, and even our own complicated selves, and recognize the divine artistry that we are part of in this universe. In doing so, we honor Him—and we fulfill a yearning that has been written into our souls since the beginning of time.

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Moment of Zen: Sunflowers

Pic of the Day

Free Friday

I am using up one of my vacation days today and had hoped to sleep a bit later than usual. Isabella had a different agenda and, as usual, woke me up at an ungodly hour to feed her. I always have the intention of feeding her and going back to bed, but it rarely works out that way. Luckily, since I have the day off I can take a nap later if I want to.

I have a couple of small errands to run today and a few things to do around my apartment, but otherwise, I plan to either read or write. I’ve had a story developing in my head and I want to “put pen to paper” as the saying goes. It’s more a fun exercise for me than anything else, and I’m enjoying it: the research, the character development, and creating a story.

Anyway, I plan to do some reading, though I also have some grading that needs to be done before grades are due Tuesday. It is highly likely that at some point I’ll be like the guy in the picture:asleep on my bed with the book I was reading by my side.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

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Workday Thursday

As I wrote this, I am watching the news and about to start getting ready for work. I took a vacation day yesterday trying to use up accumulated vacation time before I lose it at the end of the fiscal year (May 31). I will also be taking a vacation day tomorrow, but today I have to work. I’d have preferred to take my vacation days consecutively, but the schedules of my coworkers does not allow for that. I’m not thrilled about going to work today, but I have a few things I need to do, especially grading for my class before the semester ends. I’m a little behind in my grading.

If anyone was wondering about how the ultrasound went on Monday, they did find some stiffening of my liver which could cause problems later. My doctor said that there isn’t much to worry about at this point because it is still mild and reversible, but he wants to be aggressive in treatment and is sending me to a gastroenterologist. There is one locally, who my doctor says is the best around and has a specialty in liver disease. I don’t have an appointment yet to see this doctor, but my referral has been sent. I was initially very distressed at the results of the ultrasound, and I messaged my doctor asking how worried I should be. He called me and put my mind at ease. I am so fortunate to have a doctor who is so caring and one that I can talk to openly and honestly. I’ve had friendly doctors before, but no one I ever felt as comfortable and as confident with than I do my current doctor. Anyway, I’ll keep you posted when I know more. Right now, there isn’t much to tell.

And finally, here is your Isabella pic of the week. She let me sneak up on her while she was sleeping and take this picture. The first time I tried to take it, she looked up at me with an annoyed expression, but then, went back to sleep as cats so often do.

Pic of the Day

Photograph of Henry Scott Tuke (holding canvas) with Donald Rolph on Newporth beach (c.1921–2)

Framing the Male Nude

Guglielmo Plüschow, "Untitled" (Date Unknown)

The photography of the male nude occupies a rich and multifaceted space in visual history. From its emergence in the 19th century to its entwinement with queer identity and sexual liberation in the 20th, the male nude has been variously categorized as artistic, erotic, art-erotic, or pornographic. These categories—though often overlapping—are shaped by aesthetic choices, social context, and the photographer’s intent. While definitions remain fluid, understanding their distinctions helps trace the evolution of male imagery, censorship, and desire across time.

Guglielmo Plüschow, "Male Nude Seated on Leopard Skin" ( c. 1890s–1900s)

Artistic male nudes are rooted in classical ideals of beauty, proportion, and human form. These works typically present the male body as a timeless object of contemplation rather than sexual desire. Photographers such as Wilhelm von Gloeden and Guglielmo Plüschow, working in late 19th-century Italy, produced pastoral, sepia-toned images of nude youths posed against ancient ruins or natural landscapes. The subjects, often draped in togas or standing in contrapposto, evoke Hellenistic sculpture. The aesthetic was elevated, not erotic framed as reference for artists or scholars.

Bob Mizer, Athletic Model Guild, “Ted Bentley & Dick Kreutel” (c.1950s)

Bob Mizer, "Naked Young Man" (c.1950s)

Bob Mizer, "AMG model Jim Grant" (1949)

Erotic male nudes, by contrast, are designed to evoke desire. While still avoiding explicit content, they emphasize sensuality and allure. Studios like the Athletic Model Guild, founded by Bob Mizer in 1945, epitomize this genre. Mizer’s models were often young, muscular, and photographed in minimal attire—usually posing straps. Though presented as 'model studies' or athletic reference images, they were unmistakably charged with homoerotic appeal. A classic example is AMG model Jim Grant in 1949 or his "Naked Young Man," their body carefully composed for aesthetic and erotic impact.

Robert Mapplethorpe, “Thomas” (1986)

Robert Mapplethorpe, “Thomas” (1986)

Robert Mapplethorpe, “Thomas” (1986)

Robert Mapplethorpe, “Thomas” (1986)

Between these poles lies the hybrid category of art-erotic nudes—images that deliberately blend aesthetic ambition with erotic suggestion. Photographer Robert Mapplethorpe redefined this space in the 1970s and ’80s. His studio portraits of Black male nudes, leather-clad figures, and homoerotic still lifes challenged museum conventions while embracing overt sensuality. His 1986 photograph of bodybuilder Thomas—posed like a neoclassical statue but fully exposed—is both starkly erotic and compositionally exquisite. Earlier precedents include F. Holland Day’s self-portraits as St. Sebastian, which straddle martyrdom and homoerotic reverence.

COLT Studios, “Buddy Houston” (c.1979)

Still photo pornography occupies the far end of the spectrum, with imagery created explicitly for sexual arousal. With the loosening of obscenity laws in the 1960s and 1970s, studios like COLT, Falcon, and Target began publishing full-frontal male photography, often themed around working-class or hypermasculine fantasies. A 1970s COLT photo set of model Buddy Houston, fully nude and posed with a cowboy, exemplifies this genre. Here, the goal is no longer suggestion or metaphor, but direct sexual gratification—often accompanied by narratives or visual cues designed to stimulate.

F. Holland Day, “Saint Sebastian” (1906)

These categories—artistic, erotic, art-erotic, and pornographic—are best understood as points along a continuum rather than rigid definitions. A single image might be interpreted differently depending on the viewer, setting, or historical moment. In 1964 United States Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart described his threshold test for obscenity in Jacobellis v. Ohio by saying:

I shall not today attempt further to define the kinds of material I understand to be embraced within that shorthand description ["hard-core pornography"], and perhaps I could never succeed in intelligibly doing so. But I know it when I see it, and the motion picture involved in this case is not that.

In gallery spaces, an image may be framed as art; in private, it may serve a different function altogether. For LGBTQ+ audiences, especially during eras of repression, these images carried layered meanings: as mirrors of desire, acts of defiance, and moments of recognition. Their legacy continues to shape how we view the male body, beauty, and freedom.

Pic of the Day

“Hope” is the thing with feathers

“Hope” is the thing with feathers
By Emily Dickinson

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.


About the Poem

Emily Dickinson’s poem “Hope” is the thing with feathers is one of her most beloved and widely anthologized works. In it, she personifies hope as a small bird—a familiar metaphor made profound through Dickinson's spare, enigmatic style.

At its core, this poem explores the resilience and constancy of hope, even in the face of extreme hardship. Dickinson employs her characteristic style: short lines, slant rhyme, and dashes that suggest pause and thoughtfulness. Through this seemingly simple image of a bird, she conveys a powerful and deeply felt emotional truth.

Dickinson begins with a metaphor: hope is a bird. It lives within us—“perching in the soul”—ready to lift us even when we don't notice it. Its song has no lyrics (“sings the tune without the words”), emphasizing that hope is felt emotionally rather than intellectually. It’s also unceasing, suggesting that even in the darkest moments, it hums quietly in the background.

This second stanza emphasizes that hope is most powerful during hardship (“the Gale” symbolizing struggle). Even when storms rage, hope endures. The line “sore must be the storm / That could abash the little Bird” implies that only the gravest suffering could silence hope—yet even then, it remains difficult to truly extinguish.

In the final stanza, Dickinson draws from the natural world to show that hope has accompanied her across metaphorical landscapes of isolation, cold, and unfamiliarity. No matter how desolate or distant she has felt, hope has been present. Her final lines,

Yet – never – in Extremity, / It asked a crumb – of 

Me.underscore the selflessness of hope. Unlike other comforts or companions, hope demands nothing in return. It offers its song freely.

Dickinson’s use of common meter mimics the rhythm of a hymn, reinforcing a spiritual dimension (in music, the most common meter is 4/4*). The use of dashes creates a meditative, breath-like pacing, and her idiosyncratic capitalization imbues certain words (like “Hope,” “Gale,” “Bird”) with almost symbolic weight.

Dickinson, a poet known for her reclusiveness and introspection, often explored intangible inner states. Here, hope becomes both fragile and formidable—a quiet but persistent companion. The poem has a soothing, almost lullaby-like quality, which makes it deeply comforting to readers experiencing doubt, fear, or grief.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers is a deceptively simple poem, yet it speaks profoundly to the indomitable spirit of the human heart. Dickinson’s ability to express such depth in such few words is part of what makes her work timeless. The image of a bird quietly singing through storms and over seas remains one of the most enduring representations of hope in all of American poetry.

---

* The common meter in music is 4/4. Songs such as “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” “The Yellow Rose of Texas,” The House of the Rising Sun," and the theme song to Gilligan’s Island. Therefore, nearly all of Dickinson’s poems, most of which are in common meter, can be sung to the tune of any of these songs.


About the Poet

Emily Dickinson (1830–1886) was an American poet known for her reclusive life and innovative, deeply introspective verse. Born in Amherst, Massachusetts, into a prominent and well-educated family, she received a strong early education and briefly attended Mount Holyoke Female Seminary. Though she rarely left her hometown, Dickinson maintained a rich inner world and corresponded widely with friends, relatives, and literary figures. Her poetry, characterized by its compressed style, slant rhyme, and idiosyncratic punctuation, often explored themes of nature, death, love, faith, and the soul.

During her lifetime, only a handful of Dickinson's nearly 1,800 poems were published—and often heavily edited to fit conventional 19th-century poetic norms. After her death in 1886, her sister Lavinia discovered her cache of handwritten poems and worked with editors to bring them to the public. Over time, Dickinson’s originality and brilliance were recognized, and she came to be regarded as one of the most important figures in American literature. Her work, at once enigmatic and emotionally powerful, continues to influence poets and readers around the world.

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Easter Monday

I am not Catholic, but I know many of you are. I know the news of Pope Francis’s death is affecting many today. Francis seemed to try to make the Catholic Church more welcoming and inclusive, and I know there are those who believe he did not do enough. I hope the cardinals will elect a pope who will push harder for reforms and to do more against the abuses of the church through the years. I fear they won’t, but I hope they will. My condolences today to all my Catholic friends out there. As the t-shirt on the man above says, I think Pope Francis did leave a mark on Catholic history.

In a more personal and different note, I’m having an ultrasound of my liver this morning. The blood test conducted while I was in the hospital and the CT scan that I had, showed some worrying numbers. I had already known that I have fatty liver disease, but I’ve been working on exercising more and being more careful with my diet. The CT scan showed that fatty liver may have caused some fibrosis, and so the doctors ordered a liver ultrasound and liver elastography to assess for fibrosis. I’m not too worried about this. When I saw my doctor last week, he said the numbers in my blood tests did not show signs of fibrosis, and he thought the severe numbers they saw at the hospital were because I was so sick. However, he wanted me to still have the ultrasound to be certain.

In other news, this is the last week of classes. While I have enjoyed teaching this class, it has been a lot of work. I hope I will teach this class again in the future now that I have the basics created for it. I have one more lecture tomorrow which I plan to be more of a discussion than a lecture, then it will be all about grading to finish things up.

I hope everyone has a great week! Again, my condolences to my Catholic friends out there.

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From Fear to Joy

The Appearance of Christ Before the People by Alexander Andreyevich

“Nothing can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

—Romans 8:39

The days between the Crucifixion and Easter morning were dark, uncertain, and full of fear. The disciples had followed Jesus, trusted him, even left behind their old lives for him—and now he was gone. Executed as a criminal. Buried in a borrowed tomb. Their hopes were shattered. They locked themselves away in fear.

The morning of His Resurrection did not begin in joy—it began in silence, confusion, and fear. The tomb was empty. Jesus was gone. Mary wept, believing his body had been taken. The disciples, unsure of what to believe, hid behind locked doors. The world had shifted under their feet.

If you’ve ever lived in that in-between space—between grief and hope, rejection and love, silence and revelation—Easter is your story too.

The disciples would have known the words of Psalm 30:5: “Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” Yet in the shadow of the Crucifixion, their grief clouded their understanding. Though Jesus had spoken plainly of what was to come, sorrow and fear made it difficult for them to remember. In Luke 9:22, Jesus told them: “The Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests and the teachers of the law, and he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life.”

Many gay men, too, anticipate rejection when they come out—rejection from family, faith communities, or society. Jesus predicted that He would be rejected as well. He was misunderstood by many who expected the Messiah to be a political liberator, someone who would overthrow Roman rule. Yet Jesus accepted his fate, knowing that his rejection and death would lead to something greater. In John 2:19, He said: “Destroy this temple, and I will raise it again in three days.” Though the disciples did not grasp it at the time, Jesus was preparing them for the truth that death was not the end—that from what was broken, new life would rise. By holding on to our faith after our rejection, we will be reborn and risen because while others may have rejected us, God never will.

Many gay men of faith know what it is to feel locked out or hidden away. We’ve known fear. We’ve known doubt. We’ve been told, sometimes by the church itself, that we are not fully welcome in the places where love should flourish. But in the Resurrection, God does something unexpected and deeply personal: Christ returns, not to the powerful, but to the ones who are hurting, frightened, and unsure. And He calls them by name.

He speaks Mary’s name in the garden—and suddenly, her mourning becomes recognition. John 20:16 says, “Jesus said to her, ‘Mary.’ She turned toward him and cried out… ‘Teacher!’” She turns and knew: love had not left her.

John 20:19 says, “On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear… Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’” He appears to the disciples in their fear and breathes peace into the room. They do not reach out first—he comes to them.

John 20:25 tells us that Thomas doubted that Jesus had risen, “He said to them, ‘Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.’” And when Thomas cannot believe without proof, Jesus doesn’t shame him. Instead, a week later in John 20:27, Jesus went to Thomas and said, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.”

This is not the love of a distant or conditional Savior. This is a love that returns for you. A love that steps across fear, past doubt, and into locked rooms and wounded hearts. This is a Savior who speaks your name—not with judgment, but with tenderness.

No amount of uncertainty or fear can lock Christ out. His resurrection is not only about defeating death—it’s about restoring relationship. It’s about stepping into locked rooms, into quiet hearts, into hidden places, and saying, “Peace be with you.” It’s about transforming sorrow into joy.

You are not forgotten. You are not disqualified. You are not too late.

The Risen Christ sees you fully—your questions, your longings, your deepest self—and says: Peace be with you. Rejoice. I have called you by name. You are mine.

Are there places in your life where fear still holds the door closed? Have you heard Christ calling you by name—and if not, are you open to listening? What would it mean to let resurrection joy take root in your story? Christ knows what it is to be misunderstood, doubted, and abandoned. And yet, he rises not to condemn, but to comfort. He comes not to erase your wounds, but to show you his own—and in doing so, to show you that your story is safe with him. Whether you are weeping in the garden or hiding behind locked doors, he is near. He speaks your name. He breathes peace. And he turns your fear into joy.

Jesus was crucified to suffer for our sins, and He was risen from the dead to allow us to be reborn. On this Easter Sunday, remember what the angel told Mary in Matthew 28:6 when she discovered the empty tomb:

“HE HAS RISEN”

Pics of the Day

Moment of Zen: Men Who Wear Glasses

I’m sure you’ve heard this saying before about “men seldom make passes…,” but did you know that it was actually a short poem by Dorothy Parker?

News Item

By Dorothy Parker

Men seldom make passes
At girls who wear glasses.

Thankfully, men do make passes at men who wear glasses, or at least, they should by the looks of these men.