Is There A Sequel To 'Ass Worship'?

In various cultures around the world, sky deities have held a significant place in spirituality and mythology, embodying the natural forces of the heavens. Take the ancient Greeks, for instance; they revered gods like Zeus, the king of the gods, who ruled the skies and wielded thunderbolts. The vastness of the sky was often seen as an uncontrollable force and to them, Zeus represented strength, power, and authority over both gods and humans. This relationship with the sky likely stemmed from their reliance on weather patterns for agriculture and seafaring, making the whims of the sky both a concern and a source of reverence. Across the globe in Mesoamerica, the Aztecs worshipped Tlaloc, the rain god, pivotal for providing them with the life-giving water their civilization depended on. Rain was often tied to fertility and growth, so ceremonies and rituals aimed at pleasing Tlaloc were commonplace. They associated clouds with Tlaloc and thus viewed the skies as a bridge between the earthly realm and divine sustenance. Without Tlaloc’s favor, droughts could spell disaster—an understanding of nature that pushed them to invoke the sky’s blessings through elaborate festivals. Even in the cultures of the Indigenous peoples of North America, many tribes held deep connections to the sky, often seeing it as a realm of spirits and ancestors. The Lakota Sioux, for example, venerated Wíiyą, the sun goddess, and recognized the important roles of various celestial bodies in their navigation of both life and spirituality. For them, the sky was a living tapestry of guidance and wisdom. It's incredible how the sky serves as a canvas for not just worship but also a means to connect with larger existential questions about life, sustenance, and community.

Great timing — this question pops up all the time when churches want to digitize bulletins or project readings. I’ve had to sort this out for my own congregation more than once, and the short, practical version I always tell folks is: don’t assume a PDF equals free use. The 'NRSV' (New Revised Standard Version) is a modern translation with an active copyright, so public worship use has some permissions attached depending on what you want to do — reading aloud in the service, projecting verses on a screen, printing whole passages in bulletins, or posting the text online are treated differently. First thing I do: check the copyright page inside the PDF. The 'NRSV' copyright is normally held by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the USA and it’s often published/licensed by major publishers (depending on region). That copyright page usually tells you what’s allowed without extra permission and what isn’t. In many cases, reading Scripture aloud during a worship service is fine, but reproducing scripture passages (printing them in leaflets, posting full chapters online, or projecting large portions) may require permission or a license. Livestreaming or posting a service that shows scripture on screen can be a different licensing issue too — many publishers want a specific streaming or electronic use license. If the PDF’s fine print is unclear, I contact the copyright holder or the publisher listed on the page. There are also licensing services churches commonly use, like CCLI and OneLicense, which cover a lot of liturgical materials and can include rights for projecting and printing worship resources; however, these services vary by publisher and translation, so you’ll want to confirm whether the 'NRSV' is covered under the license you’re considering. When you request permission or buy a license, ask specifically about: bulletin printing, projection, website posting, and streaming — those are the common stumbling blocks. If permission is granted, most publishers also require a credit line in your bulletin or projection — something like: "Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version, copyright 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the NCC, used by permission." Keep a record of the permission or license in your church files. If obtaining permission looks complicated or costly and you need a quick alternative, many churches use public-domain translations like the King James Version for printed materials, or they limit printed quotations to short excerpts and include references instead of full text. But personally, I like following the formal permission route when possible — clarity beats awkward second-guessing. Anyway, check the PDF’s copyright page, contact the publisher or the National Council of Churches if needed, and consider a CCLI/OneLicense check for the types of use you plan. If you want, tell me exactly how you plan to use the PDF (bulletins, projection, livestream, etc.) and I can help walk through the likely next steps or sample permission wording.

Honestly, the books that reshaped my approach to training worship teams were the ones that blended theology, music craft, and practical rehearsal structure. Two that I go back to all the time are 'Worship Matters' by Bob Kauflin and 'The Worship Pastor' by Zac Hicks. 'Worship Matters' is great for grounding a team in why we sing—Kauflin gives concrete sections on shepherding, leading, and developing a theology of worship that you can turn into lesson plans. 'The Worship Pastor' offers a lot of operational stuff: audition templates, volunteer onboarding, and seasonal planning ideas that translate directly into training schedules. I also recommend 'The Worship Architect' by Constance M. Cherry and 'The Worshiping Artist' by Rory Noland. Cherry's book helps you design services and then build training around particular roles (band, tech, liturgy), while Noland focuses more on discipling musicians and forming a culture of excellence and humility. If you want a one-year outline, combine Kauflin's theology modules with Hicks's practical checklists: monthly theology/class time, weekly 60–90 minute rehearsals with part-focused breakout sessions, quarterly skills clinics (vocal health, ear training, stagecraft), and yearly leadership retreats. That mix gave my teams both skill and depth, and it can be adapted to small churches or campus groups alike.

I get excited about this topic — worship debates are where theology, culture, and music all collide, and a few books do a great job parsing the mess without just picking sides. If you want a historical-theological framework that helps you see why a church might prefer chant and ancient liturgy over a modern band (or vice versa), start with Robert E. Webber’s 'Ancient-Future Worship'. Webber argues for retrieving the formative practices of the church to inform contemporary expression. For a more practical, design-oriented look at services that try to bridge tradition and innovation, Constance M. Cherry’s 'The Worship Architect' is brilliant: it treats worship planning like a craft that balances theology, culture, and pastoral care. For critiques that go deeper than style — probing how worship shapes desires and worldviews — James K. A. Smith’s 'Desiring the Kingdom' is indispensable. It flips the conversation: it says worship isn’t just about doctrine; it forms us. To anchor controversies in Scripture, David G. Peterson’s 'Engaging with God: A Biblical Theology of Worship' traces worship themes through the Bible so you can judge trends against the biblical storyline. Finally, if you want a short, theologically-driven corrective to some consumerist tendencies in modern worship, John M. Frame’s 'Worship in Spirit and Truth' is concise and focused. Read these with an open notebook; the best way to sort controversies is to compare practice, theology, and pastoral outcomes.

Growing up near the salt-spray of a busy harbor, I always thought there was something deliciously theatrical about how the ancient Greeks treated Poseidon — like they were constantly auditioning for the role of respectful, slightly nervous tenants in his watery house. Their worship wasn't a single script but a whole repertoire: public festivals, private offerings, sea-bound rituals, and little votive gestures left at shorelines or temple altars. If you read the 'Odyssey' or the 'Iliad', you can almost feel sailors whispering prayers as waves slap the hull; archaeology and ancient authors add layers — temples at Cape Sounion, votive anchors, and even mentions in Linear B tablets suggest Poseidon was a major, ancient presence long before classical Athens made fancy marble statues for everyone to admire. Ritual practice depended a lot on place and purpose. Coastal communities and sailors did things before a voyage: libations of wine and oil poured out (sometimes into the sea), the scattering of barley, and brief ritual phrases asking for calm passage. They might make sacrifices — bulls were common, and horses were sometimes offered too because Poseidon had a strong hippic association (you'll see him called Hippios in some inscriptions). The sacrificial rite itself usually involved slaughtering the animal, burning the fat and thigh bones for the god, and sharing the meat in a communal feast. Inland sanctuaries had similar ceremonies but often emphasized different aspects of the god: as Enosichthon or 'earth-shaker' he could be invoked for earthquakes or land protection, while at Isthmian sanctuaries near Corinth he was celebrated with the Isthmian Games — athletic and musical contests that bound communities together in his honor. Temples and altars were hugely important: people built temples facing the sea or placed altars right on the coast so offerings could be visible to both Poseidon and sailors. I visited the ruins at Sounion once on a blustery evening, and seeing the temple silhouette against the waves gave me a vivid sense of why they did it — a god of the sea needs to be seen from the sea. Votive gifts came in many forms: small terracotta figurines, model ships, and especially anchors or parts of ships offered in thanks for survival. Sometimes people dedicated helmets or tripods; other times they left coins, oil, or lamps. There were also local priesthoods and public official rites for city-level festivals, alongside private household acts that asked for safe passage, good luck with fishing, or protection from storms. The tone of worship varied, too — worship could be deferential, fearful, playful, or competitive. Homeric tales show sailors afraid and supplicatory when Poseidon is angry, while athletes and city-states celebrated his power in civic festivals with pomp and pageantry. Reading Hesiod or wandering through Pausanias’ descriptions makes it clear: Poseidon could be appealed to for everything from safe shipping to horse-lore to seismic worry. I love imagining a small family by a fishing-neighbourhood altar throwing a handful of grain into the water and whispering a quick plea, and at the same time a city-state organizing a grand sacrificial bull and games to honor him. That layered, lived-in worship is what makes ancient religion feel so immediate to me — and it always makes me want to watch the sea a little more closely next time I'm near it.

I still get a little thrill thinking about how messy and creative ancient belief could be. If you ask what rituals are historically tied to worship of Abraxas, you’re mostly looking at a mix of Gnostic devotional practice, folk magic, and protective superstition rather than a neat priestly cult with standardized liturgy. Scholars tie Abraxas most directly to the Basilidian school of second-century Alexandria, where he figures in cosmological systems as a high, sometimes ambiguous, divine figure. That theoretical backdrop shows up in material culture: engraved gemstones (often called Abraxas stones) bearing the peculiar hybrid figure — rooster’s head, human torso, serpentine legs, whip and shield — and surrounded by names or letters. Those gems weren’t just art; they functioned as amulets people wore or buried to protect the wearer or guide the soul after death. Magic and naming mattered a lot. The name ’Abraxas’ itself was treated numerologically (its letters added up to 365 in Greek numerals), so ancient ritual acts often emphasize cosmic cycles, the solar year, or protection over time. In practice that translated into charms, inscriptions, and short invocation formulas found in magical handbooks and papyri: calling the name, wearing or carrying a carved gem, and sometimes reciting syllables or permutations of the name to invoke power or ward off demons. There’s also evidence that Abraxas imagery and names were placed with the dead to secure a safer afterlife journey, similar to how other pagans used amulets in graves. Beyond the stone amulets and papyrus spells, there are hints of more developed, secretive rites among some Gnostic groups — initiation-like recitations, secret names revealed to the faithful, and symbolic meals — but the documentation is sparse and often polemical (early Christian writers sometimes lump Abraxas worship into “pagan” or “demonic” categories). If you want to see the artifacts yourself, check museum collections that display engraved gems or consult editions of the ’Greek Magical Papyri’; holding pictures of those little stones gives you a real sense of why people treated this image as powerful and personal rather than merely decorative.

The appeal of 'Smart Ass in Naruto' lies in its clever subversion of shonen tropes while keeping the heart of the original series. Fans adore how the protagonist outthinks enemies rather than relying solely on brute force, offering a fresh take on the ninja world. The strategic battles are meticulously crafted, rewarding long-time fans with callbacks to lesser-used jutsu or lore details. What truly hooks readers is the protagonist's sharp wit and layered personality—flawed yet endearing, with a mix of arrogance and vulnerability. The story balances humor and high-stakes drama, making emotional beats hit harder. Side characters aren't just sidelined; they get meaningful arcs that intersect with the MC's growth. It's a love letter to 'Naruto' that elevates its universe through intellect and character depth.

Having fun in Infinite Craft, eh? To build the iron ass, first you need to gather all the necessary materials. These include quite a hefty amount of iron blocks, so make sure you have ample resources before starting construction. It's quite straightforward to build if you follow a schematic or diagram, with a symmetrical anatomy-based design you can follow. Remember to take your time and don't rush. It's your own creation after all. Relax and take it easy.