Normally, the following words from Thomas Merton live taped to the wall next to my desk. In light of a couple of recent conversations, I thought I'd post it.
My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself;
and the fact that I think that I am following your will
does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road
though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore I will trust you always
though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me,
and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.
Okay, here's the deal. I actually did all the readings, 4 chapters out of 3 books, before today's class. I wasn't totally clear on all the concepts, maybe, but I felt like I had a grasp of enough of it to participate in the discussion. I especially liked the reading out of Church as Parable, which seemed to be all about the importance of discipleship formation rather than simply reaction, which I loved. To summarize: we are not Christian because of what we do, but rather we do what we do because of who we are, conscious followers of Jesus Christ, committed to the ongoing effort of training ourselves to conform to God's will. In my daughter's vernacular, I'm all about that.
Then came class time, and I seemed to spend the whole period before the break, trying to wrap my brain around our conversation. My absorption rate plummeted, and I felt really unqualified to be there. I got glimpses, bits and pieces, but there was so much of it that I didn't get that I have a hard time even forming what questions to ask.
I'm going to stew about this for a while, and see if that helps.
Yesterday I looked up to discover that we only have about a month left in the quarter, and I'm not nearly where I need to be with the school work. Holy Week, and recovering focus after same, put a serious crimp in my study schedule, and I'm feeling behind and overwhelmed. 15-page Ethics paper due to peer reviewer next week. NT scripture journal with multiple topics, and accompanying essay, not to mention a couple of exegetical-type papers. More navel-contemplating-- I'm sorry, I meant personal reflection and evaluation-- for Pastoral Care.
Scholastic panic setting in, right on schedule. You'd think I'd be used to it by now.
And what is it about this place that regularly has my emotions on raw edge? I find myself working unusually hard not to overreact to stuff. Crawling in a hole, and pulling the hole in after me, feels like a viable option.
The thurible, that is. Under the tutelage of Paul, thurifer extrordinaire, a group of Seaburians trooped out last night to learn how to handle incense, Anglican style.
I am not, by and large, particularly fond of incense; it sends my soprano voice right into the tenor range, and some varieties make it hard to breathe. However, it was a skill I wanted to know, in case I ever find myself in a parish that is fond of it. There was also a certain satisfaction in this, as it was one of those things I'd never done before-- was not permitted to, actually. I was an acolyte as a teen, but that was in a time and place where roles for women and girls were more limited. I could be an acolyte back then, but not crucifer or thurifer.
This was great fun. We smoked up the place with two different thuribles; learning how much the tools make a difference. The brass one was pretty, but heavy; I could feel it in my triceps when I was done. The silver one was lighter, but made me laugh to look at; its modern portrayal of a Jesus figure on top looked like nothing so much as the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz.
I don't know how much I'll actually use this, but it was good to try. And Paul sent us home with a multi-page handout of technique and useful advice, to boot. A good evening.
This week we dived into The Church as Parable: Whatever happened to Ethics?, at least the first couple of chapters. Huebner and Schroeder won my heart in the introduction, with the following:
We say that theology must begin with the story of God's revelation in the Bible because only here can we find the real answer to our needs. We are well aware that much tragic violence has been perpetrated in the name of a theology of dominance and power-- even by leaders of the church. However, this is not the fault of beginning with God and the Bible, but the result of misunderstanding the very God that is made known in the biblical story. The God of Jesus Christ is the One whose power is invitation, not dominance, and whose authority is love, not manipulative power. All justification of violence and abuse of human beings in the name of the God of Israel and Jesus is idolatry. Amen. Keep talking, guys. (^_^)
Huebner then goes on in Chapter 2 to discuss the value of theological language in ethical discourse, over and against the psychological language that is generally the jargon employed. I really liked this. I think we avoid using phrases like "righteous living," and "submission to God" because we don't want to sound like a fundamentalist, as less intelligent. Well, that becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy; in a way, its a case of "use it or lose it." If we do not accept, or at least struggle openly with these concepts in ethical expression, we are allowing the world of Christian theology to be coopted and devalued. The reality of Jesus' death and resurrection is part of my "virtue narrative," and both forms and informs my ethical thinking. I am a Christian; why should I be afraid to sound like one?
She was a depression baby, born to a family hit hard, dressed in homemade clothes and love.
She was a tomboy, playing baseball and mumbledy peg and shooting marbles in the cinders in the alley. She drew, sketches in notebooks and on scrap paper. And she read: Zane Grey and Frank Yerby, adventure stories, history, biography. New books relished, and old favorites cherished.
She was smart. Took her five years to graduate college, the first in her family, but she had 4 degrees when she was done. Math. Physics. History. Government. Everything’s worth knowing, and there's no such thing as wasted education.
She was married, to the boy she met in her high school geometry class, the swimmer with the wavy hair and ice blue eyes. Together they raised three children: demanding, challenging, and inordinately proud parents.
She was a "doer." ECW and Sunday School teacher, golf lessons and painting lessons, garden club president and PTA room mother. Everything's a challenge: find the most efficient way, get it done quicker, so there's time for more of what you want to do.
She was a survivor. Diagnosed and put to bed at 38, and told to stay there or she might not see 40. The kids were 13, 10 and 6. No more doing, except in her head. And she smiled, and continued loving and learning. The master bedroom became the family room, and stayed that way. She kept track of the world, figured out the stock market, and taught those kids to deal with life, all from the left side of the mattress. And eventually got better, although never truly well. Like everything else, she learned to manage, to get the most out of what she had. That's life-- deal with it.
Five years ago a heart attack, and she died, leaving pieces of memory. Her hands on my keyboard. Her voice when I answer the phone. Her scent on the blouse in the back of my closet.
Once again, I stayed up too late last night. I started the evening playing Scrabble with MJ (and winning by a respectable margin, I might add. This is not an insignificant feat; he's a tile shark). Si came by, decided my MP3 files were woefully inadequate, and used his iPod to rectify the situation. (I'm having a ball, wending my way through the playlist). Then we sat up until the wee hours, stretching our souls and rearranging the world. My head felt wrapped in cotton wool when I woke this morning, but it was worth it. Moments touched by God, spent with people in the Spirit. I did get a nap, which took care of the fuzzy brain feeling.
We had a sub in Ethics today. Trevor is under the weather (feel better soon, bro!), so Jeff led the class discussion. Well done; beneath that "aw shucks," Mississippi boy demeanor lies a serious intellect, and it showed. Good class.
Then went out to dinner this evening, treating a friend who usually picks up the check. If this were about paybacks, we'd only have scratched the surface, but you gotta start somewhere.
So now I've played scholastic truant long enough-- time to get back to it.
Waking alone in the pre-dawn Easter dark, groggy from half-remembered dreams. Showered and dressed and in the sacristy in under half an hour; no good reason to dawdle, darn it.
Easter Vigil. Scrambling into my "back sac" cassock-- need to take the cincture in, it's loose. Standing at the back of the assembly, ready to jump, but not really needed. So enjoy the lectors, scripture storytellers making the Word come alive; and sing to the Lord, harmonizing with Margot. Holding Ella, wriggling and chirping-- new life, right here in my arms. Alleluia, Christ is risen!
After breakfast, driving south to Indiana (Note to classmates: it's not that far away. Seabury to St. Paul, Munster in 55 minutes).
More Eucharist, with all ages, everywhere. The Lord is risen, indeed; Alleluia! Musicians, including my daughter on flute. New visitor, who's deaf-- and it turns out that Connie in the choir can sign, and translates Ben's sermon. Once again, God provides the gifts that are necessary. Reminder at announcements of the Healing Conference in May, which hopes to be a wonderful thing, and in which I have precisely no part-- a Christian in the world, and not of it; a seminarian of the parish, and not in it.
Over to sister Janice's house for dinner. Good food, loving family. We grow up, and we grow older. Carolyn, at 15, at "the big table;" Gram, at 98, in her wheelchair. Eat and talk, feeling, as Frodo would say, "thin and stretched." Then go home and collapse into a much-needed nap.
Laundry, and dinner, and blessedly mundane family time. And back tomorrow, starting over again.
I forgot to blog about my boy! I went home to pick up son Kyle before the Maundy Thursday service, so he's been hanging out with Mom for the last two days. Well, some of the time-- actually, he's had way fun running around with the other kids here on the block. I will say that my introverted child has really impressed me with his willingness to talk to folks, much more than he used to. Still quiet, but he's giving answers, and even held a real conversation or two. Then he comes back to our room and demands to know, "How come everyone's so nice around here?"
We were both up late last night, hanging out with Susie and Luke, Jeff and Cat, Tripp and eventually Trish. I put Kyle to bed around 10:00, but good food, music, and conversation had me up way past my bedtime.
This morning we were up at 5, to make breakfast for the folks at Hilda's Place. I was on the griddle, flipping a few dozen pancakes, while Kyle buttered toast.
It may have been Good Friday, but Jesus was everywhere.
Prayer for a wandering Welshman.
Sharing God's gifts with God's gifted.
Taking out communion, and being pulled in.
Tenebrae, with acres of scripture washing over me.
Intimate conversation about need, and birth, and death.
Yes, a prodigal blogger returns. This has been a busy few days. A quick summary:
Last Friday afternoon, we in the Junior class had a short retreat, to work on communication and community. We met at St. Matthew's, and the retreat was led by Markus Dünzkofer, the assistant rector there. It was good; I continue to be impressed by and grateful for the folks with whom I'm learning here. (And Ed, if you're reading this-- your onetime curacy parish is in good hands).
Over the weekend I finished up a plethora of pre-Easter sewing, inlcuding alterations on a beautiful chausible for one of my professors. Paula's celebrating the 10th anniversary of her ordination on Easter Monday, and she'll be able to use it for Eucharist that day. Say a prayer of thanksgiving for her; she's a real gift around here.
I also got caught up with a massive amount of seminary reading. As much of this stuff is not an easy read (primary source material in church history, postmodern vocabluary in ethics), it's been slow going. I'm not sure my head's above water yet, but I think I can see the surface from down here. This afternoon I give a short presentation on the 4th Lateran Council; really interesting stuff, when you get into the background of it.
Yesterday I took newly permitted Si cruisin' through Evanston parking lots, just for grins and giggles. He does well for a rookie driver, very cautious, and has good reflexes, even when goofy old ladies in shopping carts leap out in front of him (Don't worry, AKMA; we left her standing, though she didn't deserve it).
Other than that, I've been caught up in the Seabury scramble of Holy Week. I've not been really responsible for anything, only helping out around the edges here and there. (I'm one of the cantors for Tenebrae, and I've done a little ordo assist work, formatting and such. Oh, yes, and I'm also a last minute sacristan for Maundy Thursday, and the Easter Vigil). Still, the frenetic pace of worship prep and practice, on top of other student body activities, on top of coursework, on top of family stuff, means prayerful contemplation gets short shrift, I'm afraid. Lots of prayer on the run. Hmmm... need to fix that.
I went to the "Thinking in Public" presentation, given at Seabury last night by Jim McGee. AKMA gives a much better summary than I could manage; check out his play-by-play. I will say that I was interested in Jim's outlook on thinking, and developing/encouraging the ability to think. He's right, I believe, when he says we have a history of discouraging creative thought. However, our discussion last night focused on the visionary, the brilliant idea that needs to be given space to bloom. The other side of the coin is the thinking through of the details needed to bring the brilliant idea to life, and allow it to grow up. This kind of thinking is not nearly as glamorous, but just as critical. Very, very few people have the gift of seeing both the forest and the trees. Another argument for the utter vitality of community.
We've spent these first couple weeks laying groundwork: Defining big words (deontological, teleological) that I promise to never use in a sermon, and reading summaries of foundational ethical thinkers: Plato and Aristotle, Augustine and Thomas Aquinas, Calvin and Luther, etc. All this, Trevor says, is building to a discussion of postmodern ethics from a virtue/narrative perspective. I'm looking forward to that discussion, because I find the definition of that a little slippery, and I'm hoping that my conception will firm up as we get into working in and through it.
Our reading to this point has been sort of a good news/bad news scenario for me. On one hand, I've enjoyed getting the background from An Introduction to Christian Ethics. Once I get past the typos inevitable in an unedited text, Huebner writes in a style that's easy to follow, and does a credible job of laying out the information. I like seeing in these philosophers and theologians the foundations of current Christian thought and practice. I spent a fair amount of time saying, "Oh! So that's where that came from!" Fun.
On the other hand, Truth is Stranger than it Used to Be has been, thus far, a struggle. Not that the text is difficult, but the gloomy nature of the first few chapters leave me feeling like I'm wallowing in clinical depression. "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity." It seems an exercise in futility, to define "a set of ultimate questions" ("Where are we?" "Who are we?" "What's wrong?" "What's the remedy?") only to state first that (a) there are no definitive answers, and then (b) any answers posited are mournful and hopeless. They only point out a multiplicity of inadequacies and impossibilities. The authors point out a biblical parallel in Mark's story of the man possessed by many demons:
"Rather than valorizing the postmodern worldview, we ought to recognize the tragic character of the answers to the first two questions provided by contemporary culture:
"Where are we? In a pluralistic world of our own construction.
"Who are we? We are Legion."
I'm looking forward to moving on in this text, hoping that there's a light at the end of the postmodern tunnel.
I really need to blog for ethics class, but that will have to wait until morning. We have company this afternoon-- my bishop's in town (welcome, Ed!). There are four seminarians here from my diocese, so he's staying overnight, in order to have time to chat with each of us. Quite pastoral, my bishop. He's also taking us out to dinner tonight, which will be fun. Tomorrow, however, he's taking his chances in the refectory for lunch (pastoral and brave; can you beat it?). Stop by and say hello!
...so I didn't. Played hooky Saturday afternoon, and went with Bruce and the kids to the Museum of Science and Industry. Climbed in and out of things and pushed buttons to our hearts' content, and it was very good. That and a couple of decent nights' sleep make the world appear a much better place. The list of work is still in progress, but I'm now facing it with a vastly improved frame of mind.
And speaking of improving one's frame of mind, I'd like to direct your attention to a new blog I've recently discovered. Another seminarian, his writing pulls the poetry out of prosaic moments, sometimes in ways that leave me slack-jawed. I can't wait to hear him preach.
Ah, the weekend. Sleepin' late, goofin' off, catchin' up. Like to try that someday.
The tip of the iceberg:
-several hundred pages of seminary reading;
-writing yet another reflection that, quite frankly, seems like busywork;
-sorting and repackaging soldier support donations;
-sewing projects that have to be done by Easter;
-housework, half a ton of laundry, and two tons of bills.
My beloved iBook is suffering from serious video output issues; at unpredictable moments, my screen has gone to hinky patterns. Once it went black and stayed that way, despite my best efforts or the telephonic witchdoctoring of my AppleCare representative. So, tomorrow it goes away for a short overhaul (thankfully under warranty). They've promised me it will be back in a week, but if you see me twitching in class or chapel, you'll know it's laptop withdrawl pangs.
Likewise, I will be online rather less, because I am spoiled. I will be working through the computer lab, with it's ancient PC's, sticky keyboards and blurry monitors, and I won't be happy about it. So I will try to monitor my email, do my ethics posting as required, and check my blogroll, but that will be pretty much it for the next few days. See you when my baby comes home.
