Preparing for Epiphany

Some years in church, it's easier to work in Epiphany than other years.  Last year, New Year's Day was on a Sunday, which was a Lessons and Carols Sunday, which meant I could be away.  January 7, the following Sunday, was the Baptism of Our Lord Sunday.  But this year, the Feast Day of Epiphany (Jan. 6) falls on the day after Christmas II; if I had been in charge of the Lectionary, we'd be doing Epiphany tomorrow, instead of the first chapter of John.

Happily, I've thought of a way to make it all work.  I wanted to do a repeat of the Epiphany stars that I did for my Florida church in 2017, and happily, I thought of this possibility before it was too late.  I took advantage of some post-Christmas sales and bought some glittery cardstock.  I downloaded some templates.  I invited some neighborhood Create in Me friends over to play.  

I knew that I would be creating stars for Sunday, and it was fine with me if my friends helped or if they created Epiphany cards to give away.  We had a great time doing a mix of projects, and in the end, I got my stars done in record time.

I wrote words on the back of each one.  As we talked, words came to me, and I used them.  I want to believe it's the Holy Spirit at work, but it may be my own brain.  I had looked at some word lists, like this one, but in the end, I went my own way.

I will be suggesting that members of my congregation use them in a variety of ways.  They're portable, which means they could travel through the year, in a pocket, a backpack, or a car.  We could use the word to inform our reading through the year or to inform the way we view popular media or the news.  We could use the word and think about the variety of meanings, as well as the kind of meditating that we'd be doing if we had pulled a word that meant the opposite. 

But most important, I want us to use the stars to train ourselves to listen for what God might be saying.  We won't always have an angel choir or a John the Baptist yelling at us.  We live in increasing amounts of noise, and a star word might be what we need to focus our brains to look away from what the powers and principalities of our time want us to stay focused on, the stories that cause us to feel fear and pain and powerlessness.

Crucial Questions for Spiritual Directees and for Us All

Yesterday at our onground intensive, Dr. Amy Oden gave a presentation about spiritual direction which included some interesting questions for directees, questions that would be valuable outside of spiritual direction:

--When and where and with whom do you feel most alive right now?

--When and where and with whom are you able to rest and to be yourself?

--How do you listen to your life?

--What is your favorite time of day? What makes it your favorite time of day?

Our presenter noted that this question helps figure out when we are most present to both self        and God, and she says it's one of the best questions that she's using with her directees right now.

--Where in daily life do you connect with God?

Dr.Oden pointed out that we already have a connection to the holy; God is already showing up and planting seeds.  Identifying those seeds can be a crucial part of the spiritual direction process.

She presented the problems with our self-improvement culture and these problems aren't unfamiliar to most of us. One of the problems that we may not consider is that turning our spiritual life or our creative life or our relationship life into a self-improvement project can lead to a lot of self-judgment and shame. Instead of giving ourselves encouragement because we are able to meditate for at least 7 minutes a day, we feel bad because we can't go for 45 minutes a day.

Dr. Oden encouraged us to help our directees (and ourselves!) turn our gaze away from self-judgment and shame but towards desire and yearning. Many of us are already doing some of the things that are important to us we might be able to do more if we could get away from our tendency towards self-judgment and shame. 

First Week of Seminary Classes

I have come through my first week of seminary classes--they officially started on Monday, but I've had access to the course shells for over a week.  I've done a lot of reading in books that are very interesting.  I've studied maps to get ready for a map quiz later this week. For the past two nights, I attended the synchronous class meetings, meaning that we all gathered in a Zoom meeting.  In some ways, the classes were similar to other Zoom meetings, particularly religious church meetings.  We began in prayer and moved to the business of the evening.  

I had worried about Zoom burnout, or being distracted by other internet delights, so I closed all the windows that send me beeps:  no Facebook, no e-mail, and I kept the Zoom window on full screen.  In retrospect, I was so focused on showing that I was present and paying attention that I worry that I looked like a grinning idiot.  And yet, it was sincere.  I am so happy to be here in this virtual place.

Last night, I thought about the first online journaling class I took with the artist Vonda Drees, through the Grunewald Guild in November and December of 2018.  We read a book together, and we shared our sketches, and we met once a week in a Zoom session.  It was transformative, and in many ways, it set me on the road to where I am today, sitting in seminary classes.  Attending the first onground intensive for my spiritual direction certificate program was similar.  I walked on the campus of Southern seminary, and I realized how much I missed all the aspects of that traditional educational experience.

I have loved that certificate program, and yet, along the way I've thought, this is interesting, but it's not seminary.  I was able to handle the pace and the readings, and it made me think I could do something more rigorous.  

In the interest of being completely honest, I'm also in a phase of my administrator work life where work has become less demanding as the campus has been shrinking and various programs have been in the final phases.  I feel sad about that fact in some ways.  When I came to this job, the campus was growing so fast that we had trouble finding space for all the classes that we need.  Now, because of decisions above me and because of the pandemic, that process has been reversed.   And it's not just my little campus.  It's become clear that a change is underway in higher education, a change in part because of a declining birth rate that started in 2007 or so, coupled with immigration restrictions.

I still feel somewhat precarious, like my life has become a huge balancing act, and I must not let myself get distracted, lest I fall or drop something precious into the abyss.  I will remember what a wise yoga teacher taught me, to keep my vision focused on a point further away, to not compare myself to others, to slow down.

Onground Intensives Done Virtually

This week, in addition to everything else in my life, I've been doing the onground intensive for my spiritual direction certificate program.  I don't have many vacation days, and I may need them later, so I decided to do the intensive from my work office, while also trying to attend to administrator duties.  It's left me exhausted.

The intensive started on Wednesday, and I was already a bit worn out.  On top of my administrator duties, I had spent several hours attending a virtual orientation/advising session and getting registered for seminary classes, along with getting documents and cashier's checks for the condo rental.

I try not to contrast the onground intensive experience that I had on campus in January of 2020 with the two virtual intensives I've had since then.  It's not a fair comparison, I know.  The good news:  the comparison makes me glad that I'm taking the approach to seminary that I am launching this fall.  My instinct was right:  it would have been hard, if not impossible, to do online seminary with onground intensives while still being a college administrator; the programs I was considering required 2 week intensives twice a year, usually at times when it would be hard for me to be away for 2 weeks--not that there's ever a good time to be away for 2 weeks in my administrator experience.

I will also wonder how my spiritual direction certificate experience would have been different if the pandemic hadn't disrupted it.  I find myself so exhausted and not taking full advantage of the offerings.  For example, last night, I sat at my office desk, alone, after the campus closed for the night, trying to do the Ignatian visualizing as part of a Vesper's service:  "Imagine that you are Simeon.  long pause   Imagine that you are Anna.  long pause   Imagine that you are Mary and Joseph, on the road to the temple.  long pause"  Eventually, I just couldn't do it anymore, and it pains me to admit, I turned my attention elsewhere.  If I had been in the chapel, surrounded by my fellow students, would I have been more likely to focus?  Yes.

We are doing the flipped classroom model, which means I worked my way through modules that were basically filmed lectures.  They were good, but less compelling than they would have been in a classroom.  Or maybe I was more distracted.  Or maybe I had already read about many of the topics, and so many of the presentations didn't seem to tell me much that was new.

It is also strange to be going through this intensive after I have decided to go to seminary.  I chose this program originally, after a period of discernment where I thought I was choosing between this program and seminary.  I was fairly sure that I couldn't do seminary in the allotted amount of time and also be an administrator.  In the pre-pandemic days, there were fewer options than there may be now that schools have had to experiment with classes done from a distance.

It's strange to be going through this intensive realizing that I'm now discerning something new.  Would I have been open to the new discernment had we been doing the intensives face to face?  If we had been able to do that, many elements of life would have been different.

I'm still grateful for the experience.  I've learned a lot, and it hasn't been that expensive.  And it's been a better use of time than many of the ways I could have spent it.  Even the shortcomings have made me realize my longings.

Wandering Wise Men and the Stars They Follow

I have been greatly intrigued, and at times highly amused, by the Internet meme of the 3 plastic wise men and a camel who make their way across modern landscapes.  The wise men look like children's toys, and upon doing some "research," I've found that they're made by Playmobil or Fisher Price.  I have no idea how many people are doing this.  I haven't participated this year, but perhaps in later years.

Until this morning, I didn't realize how many people were doing this project as a reaction to the Elf on a Shelf--a way to have a daily practice that's whimsical but doesn't involve Santa.

I wonder how many wandering wise men practitioners think about the problematic aspects of the 3 kings.  With Epiphany falling on a Sunday this year, I wonder if churches will talk about the troubling parts of the story.

If we take the Bible literally, it's hard to make this part of the story fit with later parts of the savior story.  How far ahead of the birth did the star in the east start shining?  How long does it take to walk that distance?  Did the magi arrive at the manger too?  If Herod slaughtered all the children under the age of 2, why do we have no historical record of that slaughter?  What happened to the valuable presents in the later years?

Even if we don't take the Bible literally, the story presents difficulties for modern sensibilities.  What do we do with the fact that these wise men are an ancient version of astrologers?  What type of ethnic minority are they?  Do they come from Persia or from Africa?  Why does that old hymn say that they're from the Orient?  Do we all remember that Orient and Oriental are no longer the preferred terms as they imply something a bit ugly?

If I was preaching this Sunday, I'd take one of several approaches.  The classic, non-political approach would be to remind us all of the importance of regular practice.  The wise men notice a new star because they are studying the skies week after week.  Or I might talk about how sometimes the Good News comes via angel choirs in the sky, but for some of us, the message is more subtle.  I use the story as a reminder to look up more often, to take in the larger vistas.

We could talk about how Divine messages can often send us on unexpected journeys.  Or maybe we want to talk about gifts; we could talk about the symbolic meanings of the gifts that we traditionally associate with the magi:  frankincense, gold, and myrrh. 

If I was in a daring mood and preaching epiphany, I might remind people of the civil disobedience aspects of the story:  the ruler of the land sends the magi on a spying mission and commands them to return to report to him.  They disobey.  Their disobedience, alas, does not overcome evil; Herod continues to sow chaos and bloodshed.

Or perhaps I'd talk about the refugee aspects of the story.  The magi come, and the Holy Family must flee Herod's murderous jealousy.  Herod is not the first despot to create a refugee crisis, and we can be sure that the many refugee crises that we see in our modern age will not be the last.  What does it mean that our savior was a refugee?

I have preached the Epiphany message before, and I went with the idea of Epiphany stars (more in this post and this one).  Later in the year, I had one church member tell me that she found it meaningful for more than just one Sunday. 

But my brain keeps coming back to those wandering wisemen.  I like the dailiness of arranging the toys.  I wonder if we could do something similar with other seasons--a Holy Spirit nudge!

Advent 4, Winter Solstice, and a Full Moon

The fourth Sunday in Advent invites us to light the candle of Love:

The Gospel asks us to consider God's invitation:  new life in unlikely wombs:

The winter solstice reminds us that light begins to leak back into our world:

The full moon shows us the cyclical nature of so many aspects of life.

Now is the time to revisit orphaned dreams, those deferred yearnings.

Your orphanage of a heart has kept them sheltered for a reason.

Epiphany Prep: Stars

Tomorrow, my church will celebrate Epiphany.  I'm in charge of the one service.  For weeks now, I've thought I might preach on the flight into Egypt.  But this week, I've changed my mind.

In the past few days, I've seen lots of references to Epiphany stars--and there's still time to do this!

This post is the one that inspired me.  So today, I'll make a bag full of stars.  I've found a template, and I'll cut out stars and write a variety of words, one per star.  Instead of a basket, I'll pass a bag (from the gift shop at Mepkin Abbey!) around the congregation--people can reach in and grab a star.

How will we use our stars?  I will suggest that we use them as a way to focus on what God might be trying to say to us.  The wise men in the story spent years, perhaps decades, staring at the sky.  For those of us who are less patient, maybe the star from the paper bag from Mepkin Abbey will give a direction.

The word Epiphany also means an insight, often a piercing insight, a life-changing insight.  What epiphanies do we need for 2017?

I am guilty of wanting the Holy Spirit to speak in grand gestures, like a full scholarship to a seminary with living expenses covered too, not in gentle whispers.  I worry that if I want a grand gesture, the Holy Spirit will get my attention by way of the grand gesture of unemployment or something horribly negative.  My earthly spirit clearly doesn't fully trust the Holy Spirit.

Perhaps that's why the Holy Spirit tends to work in nudges and whispers.  Most of us are skittish animals, after all, easily spooked.
We've had weeks of stories of people of all sorts may be led by a star or by angel directives or choirs of heavenly hosts appearing in the sky.  But there are other ways.  Wise people year after year are led  by that steady voice that tells them to look where they haven't found success before.  I believe God speaks to us through our yearnings. 

Many people have had great success from having a word that gives focus to the year--the juxtaposition of Epiphany and New Year's Day seems fortuitous this year.  This year, my spiritual resolution/intention/goal will be led by the star that I draw out of a bag from Mepkin Abbey--and I'll let us all know how it goes.

When Dreams of Angels Are Muddled

I've had angels on the brain--it is Christmas, after all.  Week after week, we have heard texts of angels appearing:  first to Mary, then to Elizabeth and Zachariah, then to Joseph, then to the shepherds.  These are not angels which can be domesticated.

One of my favorite photos that I took at the Mepkin Abbey gift shop is this basket of angels.  Was I looking for angels that I can control?

Last night, I had the kind of dream that makes me wonder if God is speaking to me.  I dreamed that I was in a car with some church officials.  One of them asked, "Have you made any decisions yet?"  "About what?" I stammered. 

"You were thinking about seminary."

Oh yeah, that.  I almost forgot.  The rest of the dream had me wandering around a church camp that looked like the luggage of the campers had exploded:  clothes lined every path.  I walked into a chapel where a men's choir was playing a piece written by my husband, a piece for strings, including a dulcimer.  Everywhere I saw evidence that people I've known spiritually were close, even if I wasn't sure exactly where they were:  for example, I saw food tagged in a refrigerator with names of people I've known from the Create in Me retreat and earlier college days.

Ordinarily, I'd wake up from such a dream and say, 'What interesting ways my subconscious keeps itself amused when I'm asleep!"  But having spent part of yesterday writing about angels and the ways that it must be tough for angels to get the attention of 21st century moderns (see this blog post), I'm perhaps more alert for the messages of angels than usual.

When I think about the angel messages of Christmas, I think about the clarity of the message.  Or is that just how it has been told to us through the ages?

Did Joseph wake up and find himself teasing out the meaning of the strange dreams for days afterwards?  Did some of the shepherds stay behind because even though they'd see angel choirs singing, they didn't necessarily agree that it meant that a journey was in order?

My thoughts turn to the angels themselves.  I also think of all the literature where angels do not look at all like the humans expect them to look, and thus, the message is compromised.  Or, as in "A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings," is there even a message?

And then I wonder if these angel stories set us up for disappointment.  We imagine that it was easy for Joseph and Mary and the magi and all those people who get such direct instructions.  We yearn for such a message for ourselves.

But history shows us that even when humans get such messages, it's rare that we follow.  We spend a lot of time watching for messages, even when we have plenty of directives all around us.  We spend much less time figuring out how to respond to God, when God calls.

Advent Dreams, Building Transformations

Tonight we are likely to have the kind of church council meeting that I dread.  We will likely talk about how our income is nowhere close to matching our outflow of cash.

I suspect that these conversations are not uncommon in churches across the land.  But oh, how I am weary of this conversation.

Our situation may feel more acute because we've just finalized a loan so that we can take care of building repairs (the roof, the AC, some parking lot issues).  Instead of rejoicing that the money is in the bank and work can begin, we are feeling a bit of panic because now we must repay the loan.

As a woman who did a lot of the work to get us the loan (e-mails, phone calls, e-mails, photocopying documents, e-mails, more phone calls, e-mails, filing paperwork at the Broward county office, and yet more e-mails), I'd like to spend a bit more time in gratitude before we move to panic.

Or maybe we just skip the panic please.  Do we trust in the Holy Spirit or don't we?

In the spirit of full disclosure, I'm not sure I do.  Wait, let me clarify.  I'm not sure I trust in the Holy Spirit to send us money to pay the bills.  In my quieter moments when I'm not doing tasks to finalize a loan, I'm wondering if the Holy Spirit isn't telling us something that most of us don't want to hear.

I had these thoughts again when I read this blog post and wondered if we'd rather have staff or a church building.  We can just barely afford our pastor and our building.  I'm not sure we can afford our staff members.

Of course, we have a building that's on lots of land for a South Florida location--we haven't even begun to explore utilizing/maximizing those resources.  Is the Holy Spirit nudging us that way?

If you've read this blog for any length of time, you've read my thoughts on my uneasiness with buildings; this piece is typical, plus it has a link to a great post by Nadia Bolz-Weber about the Babylonian captivity of our buildings.  Jesus sent his earliest followers out into the world, and they weren't scouting for locations for new church buildings.  Sigh.

Lately I have been wondering if Church Council is not the place where I'm supposed to be.  I just do not care about this building.  It's ugly.  The space is poorly designed.  And did I mention how ugly it is?  Why must we spend so much time talking about the building?

In this time of Advent, what is the Holy Spirit saying to me?  To phrase it another way:  if we have to spend so much time talking about this wretched building, what kinds of conversations could thrill me?

I've been thinking again about the church as a center for the arts.  Could I transform this ugly building into such a vision?

Could I make it possible for others to do that?  It doesn't have to be about me, after all.

I'm more interested in the programming than in the building.  What would that programming look like?

It's Advent, the time for diving deep into our dreams and visions.  I shall try to be more open to mine.

Nominations for Church Council

Later today, I'll head over to church for a Nominating Committee Meeting.  How does your church handle nominations for Church Council?

I've never been part of a church that handles nominations the way my current church does.  My current church council selects a nominating committee.  The committee meets separately and very privately.  I'm not always part of the committee, but I have been, and here's what happens.

We open in prayer and then silence.  We have paper.  We write down names that bubble up.  After a certain amount of time, we compare notes.  We develop a slate of nominations to take back to Council.  From that slate, Council prays for wisdom about who would  be best.  Then Council develops a slate to take to the church meeting in January.

At the church meeting, nominations can come from the floor, but they rarely do.  Usually, the Church acclaims the slate of names.

This process is much less divisive than the ones I've heard about in many churches.  Many churches have regular elections, where people run for office--sometimes complete with campaign themes.  As you can imagine, it can get ugly.

In most churches where I've been a member, they've been small churches where it's hard to find anyone willing to serve.  The process we've adopted doesn't rely on volunteers.  We go to them to say, "Your name came to our minds when we prayed and asked the Holy Spirit for the best candidates for Council."

People can still refuse, of course.  Holy Spirit promptings or no, some people are already overwhelmed without adding another commitment to their lives.  But it feels different than the crass campaigning that's a danger of doing Council elections differently.

You might scoff at the idea that the Holy Spirit gets involved with us this way.  At first, I had doubts too.  But having gone through the process, it does feel more mystical than other ways of electing Council members.  It does feel like God will be present in the process if we ask.

Buying Abandoned Church Buildings

Every day on my way to work, I drive past a church building that's for sale.  In many ways, it's an ideal location:  in Dania Beach, on Highway 1, between Ft. Lauderdale and Hollywood, just a few miles from the airport.  It's an ideal location for a church, or for a church building that's reborn as something else.

Some might look at the building and think about opening a restaurant.  Or maybe that's just what I think of because the first transformation of a church building that I'd ever seen was in downtown Charleston, SC, an Episcopal church that had been changed into a Mexican restaurant.

Some might think of the preschool possibilities.  After all, many a church has already transformed itself to adapt to the preschool it feels it needs to run/host.

I return to my thoughts of a few weeks ago.  I think of artist studios and an exhibition space.  I imagine running day or half day retreats.  I envision a space that explores the intersections of spirituality and creativity.  And we could do all sorts of creative work.  There's room for gardens and fountains.  I imagine there would be at least one kitchen.

I have a colleague who suggests that I stop one day and pray.  She says that God has already consecrated that space, and that when I assume that my dreams are not feasible, I'm selling God short.

She is right, of course.  And yet, I still can't quite articulate that dream, on a day-to-day level.  I can't quite visualize how we'd pay the bills.

And while I love the idea of the church as arts space, I'm not sure that I want to be the one to transform it.  I want it to exist, but I'm not sure that I want to be the one that does that administrative work to keep it running.

I do love the Dania Beach area.  I know it's been trying to recreate itself as an arts district.  Once it was a thriving antiques district, so past experience would tell us that the location is viable.

I also wonder about a social justice piece.  Could a church-turned-arts-center be helpful in terms of after-school activities?  There are pockets of deep poverty that surround that building--how could the arts center church help that situation?

My husband dreams of an empire of rental houses that could be made into safe, snug, affordable places for people to live.  I dream of old churches made into artistic spaces.  Of what does God dream?

Free Will, Faith, and the House Buying Process

On my creativity blog today, I wrote this:

"We were so very lucky on moving day. But I've been saying that during every step of our house buying adventure. For example, I just stumbled across the listing for the house on Zillow, even though the owner was no longer thinking of the house as being for sale. With each step of the way, it's felt like it was meant to be.

I know, I know: I'm a rational person. I know there could be 20 houses out there that would inspire similar feelings. Actually, I know that I'm supposed to think that. With this house and the last one, we looked at so many houses, but only one jumped out at me."

It's my creativity blog, so although I sometimes meander into the realms of the spiritual, I try to keep them separate.  Even as I was writing those lines, I was thinking about the ideas in this post that I wrote on this blog about 6 weeks ago:

"--As we've moved through this process, I've felt protected and guided at every level. You might say it's because I've been praying more. You might say it's because I'm delusional.


--It's important to remember that throughout my life, I have often felt most protected and guided as I've taken risks and taken leaps toward the life I really want to be living. I believe in a God of abundance. These times of risk taking and being open to possibilities can test that belief. I don't want to live in a fear-based economy. I want to live in faith, not in fear and doubt."

I put it another way to people who won't get offended or upset at this idea:  I have felt held by caring hands in this process.  Put another way, I have felt held by God's caring hands the whole way.

I know the next question:  where is free will in all of this?  I have several answers.

--I asked for help and guidance.  I try to remember to do that on a regular basis, but during the house buying process, it was much easier to remember.

--I believe that if we ask for help and guidance, then God doesn't violate the rules of a free will universe.  I have asked, after all.  God can respond.

--And even with God's response, I still have free will in my actions. I don't have to accept help and guidance.

And now it is on to the next step of this process.  It is time to sell the old house.

Yes, we've done this process in the reverse way that most people do it.  Again, luck or guidance?  In any event, I'm grateful.

And I'm open and willing to help and guidance when it comes to selling the old house.

Summer Malaise and Holy Spirit Nudges

There are times in any church when the pastor must be away.  At my church, the pastor always asks lay leaders if they want to preach.  If no one can do it, then he looks for a supply pastor.  We take this approach for several reasons, among them, the money that we save.  But it's also good for us as a congregation to remember that the pastor is not the only one with those particular gifts.

As Lutherans, we declare the priesthood of all believers, but we don't always practice it.  Of course, it's difficult.  After more than 25 years of teaching, I'm comfortable speaking in public.  Most people would rather do anything than speak in front of a group of people.

On Sunday, I was the substitute for our pastor.  Often when I fulfill that role, I feel a little nudge.  Often, I get similar nudges from parishioners who ask me when I'm going to seminary.

On Sunday, all went well, but I didn't feel that nudge.  Most of the departing congregation members were kind and complimentary, but no one asked me when I was going to seminary.

I won't read too much into this, of course.  I had a tough text to preach, the one in Acts with Simon the magician who offers to pay money to be filled with the spirit.  That's not the toughest passage in Acts, of course.  I took the approaches you would expect:  you can't pay for God's grace and salvation, you can't control God, you can't capture God's powers for your own purposes.

I confess that of all the books in the Bible, Acts is high on my list of least-favorite, just under Leviticus and some other Old Testament texts.  I confess that I feel guilty about that fact.  As a Christian, I should treasure these stories from the early Church.  They just don't move me the way they move others.  I would be the first to speculate that the fault is mine, that some deficiency in me keeps me from fully appreciating this text.

So perhaps I can attribute Sunday's malaise to the book of Acts.  Maybe it's the general lethargy of summer.  We didn't have high attendance, which is a drawback to having congregation members lead the service.

Or maybe it's that I'm unlikely to attend seminary for a few years, thus I'm less likely to be open to Holy Spirit nudges.  I've come to believe that my current full-time job may well be the last full-time job I have, one with a good salary and full benefits, and so I don't want to leave it too hastily.  We'll stay put, hopefully move to a house that's a better investment, and see where we are in a few years.

Or at least, that's what I'm thinking today.  But I've read my Bible.  I know that the Holy Spirit often has other plans that can be irresistible.  I'll work on softening my heart and staying open to the possibilities.

Random Encounter or Holy Spirit Whisper?

I keep thinking I'll have a longer writing time to leisurely write about discernment and some interesting options I've been stumbling across.  But it's not this morning, so let me post here part of a piece I put on my creativity blog a few days ago.
The election of a bishop at Synod Assembly meant we never had an opportunity to do much else. There was no session for those discerning a call. There weren't as many people in the marketplace, which in retrospect, is not a surprise, because we had even less down time than usual. No networking, no innovative worship services, no interesting Bible study.

However, I did have an experience that seemed so extraordinarily outside of the realm of possibility that I'm unable to write it off as coincidence, even as I know that my scientist friends would scoff at me.

About a month ago, a friend at Create in Me told me that Luther Seminary has a low-residency track, and I did some research and found out that the low-residency is for the whole program, not just the first year. I tucked it away and didn't think about it much more in the past month.

At lunch on Friday, our pastor told us that lots of seminaries are creating low-residency options and all kind of other approaches for people who can't just pick up and leave. And then, we returned for the afternoon's smaller group sessions with the bishop candidate.

I found myself sitting beside a man who is a student in the low-residency program at Luther Seminary! What are the odds of that?

I found out because I asked him if he'd be going to the dinner to honor the Bishop. He said he had to finish a paper for seminary. He said, "You wouldn't expect it, would you, that I'd be working on a paper, for my seminary in Minnesota?" Something clicked in my brain, and I blurted, "Are you part of the low-residency program?"

Indeed he is. I asked lots of questions, and I am just so happy to have met a real, live person who is experiencing the program. He spoke very highly of it. He's managing to go through without taking on debt, through grants and scholarships and careful budgeting. He said it's a great option in that he doesn't have to pay for a whole year at the beginning of the year.

He said it is somewhat exhausting to continue to hold down his full-time job, which involves working outdoors, and doing the school work. As summer has approached, he's felt even more tired.

He praised the community that he feels, which has been one of my concerns.

It was interesting to me that just as I was despairing about the lack of anything other than electing the bishop, I sat beside just the person I needed to meet.

I'm sure I'll be writing more on discernment as the weeks go by. I don't feel like I'm any closer to knowing anything for sure. But I do know that it was an important encounter that I had this week-end at Synod Assembly. It doesn't feel like it was random chance.

A Poet Considers Seminary (yes, again)

So, if you're a reader who grows weary of my pondering the future and contemplating new paths, you might want to skip this post. Of course, if you're that kind of reader, you probably moved on years ago.


On Tuesday morning of Holy Week, I woke up thinking about seminary again. My earliest thoughts of the day told me to check out Pacific Lutheran Theological Seminary. I dismissed those thoughts. That seminary has never been on my radar screen, after all.

I have family connections to Southern (in Columbia, SC) and Trinity (in Ohio). My mom had a great experience when she taught at Gettysburg for a semester back in 2005. I feel intellectual connections to Yale and Emory (in Atlanta, GA); for a few years, the authors of the books of theology I loved the most came from those two institutions. But Pacific? It's never crossed my mind.

But all morning on Tuesday of Holy Week, that name kept floating across my brain. So, finally, Tuesday afternoon I went to the website. The home page mentions that they're introducing the Flexible Life M.Div option: the first year can be done online.

For years, I've thought about seminary programs and what they can learn from MFA low-residency programs. What Pacific seems to be offering is not exactly like those programs, but there's a flexibility I haven't seen before in many other seminary programs.

The website says that the first year can be stretched out over several years, which would help me immensely. I could keep working, while I have this job. In my darker days, I think it's the last full-time job I'll ever have, and I should keep it as long as I have. In my darker days, I think that I'll only have it for another few years, until my job can be automated or consolidated or outsourced or downsized.

But I digress.

The website mentions other new developments which make it easier for seminarians who have other responsibilities. Traditionally, one would go to seminary for 2 years, leave for an internship year, and then return to seminary for the last year. If one's candidacy committee and Synod allow it, Pacific will allow seminarians to do the internship year for the last year, to cut down on moving costs. Hurrah!

Of course, I would like to be awarded life credit in lieu of the internship year. I've been Church Council president and served on Council in other capacities too. I've been a retreat coordinator at Lutheridge. I've written for both The Lutheran and the Living Lutheran website.

I know how that sounds when sitting on the other side of the desk. I've listened to many students explaining to me why they shouldn't have to take this class or that class. I understand what the academic study will give them that their real life experience wouldn't. Maybe the same is true of the internship year.

I was also excited by the modernized language options. I will confess that the Greek required by most seminary programs has been daunting. Sure, I'd love to learn Greek. But is that really the best use of a seminarian's time?

Pacific offers a different option, one that has a two-pronged focus (I'll cut and paste from the website):

(1) Spanish for Worship

•PLTS will offer a full year of Spanish geared toward the practice of ministry, especially worship leadership.

•This course responds to the ELCA’s call for mission in the multilingual and multicultural context of the U.S.

AND

Biblical Languages Tools

•Students who choose Spanish are required to take this course during January intersession of their first year.

•This course focuses on both Biblical Hebrew and Greek.

•Students are introduced to both traditional and electronic resources.

•The goal of this course is to encourage students to engage in a lifetime of biblical language study for preaching and teaching in the parish.


--------------------------------

Back to me: that approach to languages certainly seems more practical and useful.

Now, there are drawbacks to Pacific. I could only put off the necessity of moving to the California coast for so long. Eventually, I'd need to go west for on-ground classes.

If I had only myself to think about, that need to move west would not be a dealbreaker. I'd love a new area to explore, and going to school is a great way to do it.

But I don't have just me to think about.

Still, with the flexible first year option, I could begin. If I discovered that seminary really wasn't what I wanted, I wouldn't have burned so many bridges to get there.

As I look at the application process, it may be too late for Fall 2013. I need letters of recommendation. I need a candidacy committee.  And I talked to a dean, who said I would only have 7 years to complete the program.  That means I need to be careful about when I start the clock ticking.

But I could start in the Spring.  Maybe by then, I could even have a Candidacy Committee.  I have no idea how that works.  It's one of the things I planned to get a handle on when I went to Synod Assembly in May.

Director/Faculty in Practices of Ministry Position Announcement

On Thursday, my mom and dad told me about this job at a Lutheran seminary.  My mom's cousin is a dean at a different Lutheran seminary, and she heard about this job opening, thought of me, and told my mom.  My parents think I would be perfect for the job.

So do I, if it's the job I want it to be.  The announcement is written so broadly that I could make it be any number of jobs.

The link ot the Global Preaching Initiative website at the bottom of the announcement intrigues me. I'll be interested to hear what the Seminary plans to do in conjunction with this initiative.  Or will that be part of the Director's job, to provide vision and leadership for this initiative?

I have a Ph.D. in British literature, not in theology or other related subjects.  My Ph.D. may be the dealbreaker for a search committee.  If they hired me, I'd be the only faculty member with a non-theology degree.

I think about my evidence of scholarly potential.  My publishing record is very eclectic, to say the least.  I've written articles for The Lutheran and I've been a regular blogger for the Living Lutheran site.  But I haven't done scholarly publishing much of any kind, and the little bit that I've done has been about literature, not theology.  So, when I look at my CV, I see evidence of potential, but I don't know if it's the kind of evidence that a job search committee would want to see.

I have a lot of non-academic training in areas which I suspect the Director of Practices of Ministry would need to have, but no official degrees or official training. I can offer a valuable perspective as someone with decades of experience but as a lay leader, not a pastor.

Part of me agrees with my parents that I should apply, just to see what happens.  Part of me doesn't want to waste anyone's time.  If I could find out that my Ph.D. in English isn't good enough, that would answer some questions.  Perhaps the next step is to send an e-mail with that very question ("Is a Ph.D. in English enough?") to the dean who is chairing the search.

Stay tuned!

Dreaming of Ordination

Just before I woke up, I had such an intense dream that it seemed like something else.  Do I believe that God still talks to us through dreams?  Do I believe that dreams give us a pipeline to our subconscious?

I'm not sure of my answer to those questions, but I wanted to record my dream.  In my dream, it was late afternoon, around 4:45, and the sun was setting.  My mom and I were at the edge of some small town.  I said, "Wasn't there once a Methodist bookstore around here?"

Then we were in the bookstore, but it was a small thing, a room in a church, essentially.  There was an older woman (but perhaps younger than my mom) who took one look at me and handed me a book.  It's title:  Ordination.  It was a book that went denomination by denomination to talk about how each denomination dealt with women and ordination.

The book had the same yellow cover as the first edition of The Norton Anthology of Literature by Women that I bought in 1986, but the pages weren't thin, and the book itself, while as thick as the Norton, had larger pages.  The cover had representatives, somewhat cartooony, of some of the denominations, including a monkish Martin Luther with a whip.

My mom made sure that I saw the part of the book that dealt with my grandfather, who was a Lutheran pastor in real life, and who did not approve of women's ordination. 

I knew that I couldn't afford the book, and I wanted to read as much as I could before the store closed.  I asked the older woman when they closed, and she said, "7."  I looked at my watch, saw that it was 5, and sat down to read.  My mom went to help with a children's choir.

That was my dream.  When I write it out, it's difficult to convey how lovely it was, how warm it all felt, how in my dream, I felt like I was getting a clear sign (get to seminary!), even as I wondered if I really was getting a clear sign.

I woke up, and before my rational brain got to work, I felt I had been sent a sign.  Then my rational brain got to work and reminded me of all the obstacles to seminary, and from that my brain moved on to thinking about how outmoded seminary is and how I'd change things.

Yes, seminary as it exists now, seems like a relic of the middle part of the 20th century, when people went to seminary right out of undergraduate school, before they had families.  Or if they had families, there was a wife who had no career, and thus, the family could be uprooted to head off to the seminary of the future pastor's choice.  Even as we have more mid-career seminarians, seminaries haven't changed to meet this reality.  We're still expected to troop off to a distant school.

And once we get there, we must ask ourselves if what we study is still relevant.  How much New Testament Greek?  Might not Spanish have more of a use?

And a 4 year program to get a Master's degree?  Really?  Once we've uprooted ourselves for a seminary education, then we may have to uproot ourselves again for the internship year?  Who designs this program?

It may be appropriate for young folks just out of college who have not much church experience, but for people who have been Church Council presidents and Confirmation leaders and curriculum designers and worship leaders--do we really need an internship year?  Many of us have led churches through many a crisis and/or a time of searching for a pastor, which may mean lay preaching or overseeing the office, the finances, the week-to-week running of a church.

OK, enough of my sermonizing--there's my rational brain at work.

And in the interest of full disclosure, I do love the idea of school and learning more.  I don't like the idea of taking on student loan debt and taking a 4 year vacation from earning money to go to school.  That's the conundrum I can't solve as I think about ordination.

Friday Night Drums

Last night, I helped my spouse who was invited to a Lutheran church to lead their youth in a drumming workshop.  The night had its roots in a workshop that we helped with back in September of 2009; see this post for more on that experience.

I've said before how grateful that I am that we have such a wide variety of percussion instruments (well, instruments of all kinds):  2 djembes, a doumbek, several shakers, and several small drums.  We borrowed some drums and a tambourine from our church, and we were set.  My spouse brought his violin and an electric keyboard and showed how even a non-percussion instrument could be used in a more rhythmic way.

The church had a HUGE group of children, about 40, all gathered on a Friday night.  I asked if they all show up on Sunday morning.  The pastor said only about 5 of them do, but she said, "Church doesn't just happen on Sunday morning."  Indeed.

My spouse and I were the only white folks there, but we were welcomed warmly.  The children were all fascinated by the drumming.  My spouse taught them a smidge of music theory, mainly just a tiny bit about time signatures.  But mostly, they wanted to bang on drums.  I was glad that we had almost enough for everyone; no one sat too long without an instrument to experience.

My spouse also stressed that good percussion instruments are all around us.  He showed the kids how to play spoons, and he brought some empty containers to compare how they sound to regular drums.  Yogurt tub vs. djembe--which is better?

He talked about how drums are made by indigenous populations.  We have one small drum that is covered by a hairy skin (usually real skins used in drumming are scraped clean).  Some of the children refused to touch it ("A goat?  That was a real, live goat??!!"), while others couldn't wait.  He talked a bit about Latin rhythms and African traditions.

And then, we ended by singing.  My spouse planned to do more with "We are Marching in the Light of God"; after all, it's can be sung in many languages all at the same time, it can be sung in a round, it can have people sing soaring bits behind the main song.

But the pastor and I simply sang it through, in English, several times, along with my spouse (and likely some of the parents who watched the whole workshop), and the kids drummed.  It was the highlight of my week, at least my week after my sister and nephew left.

As we sang, I felt my voice soar, which was amazing, since only recently have I started singing without caring what I sound like.  It's not a song that I've sung often (unlike, say, Christmas music), and yet, I felt like I was hitting all the notes.  I loved singing with the pastor--her voice and my voice worked well together.

I got the feeling that I only rarely get when I'm singing:  my rib cage expanded, and I felt like I could feel my body in terms of space and cavity and sound echoing against the bones.  That doesn't sound very pleasant, but it was incredible.  It reminded me of the feeling I get when I sing in the stairwell at work.

After the workshop, my spouse stayed to work with some of the kids who were more interested in the drum kit than in the hand drums.  I carried drums to the car and watched the kids play with hula hoops and chase each other around the church grounds and work on liturgical dance.

And then we drove home.  I sang all the way home.  I offered prayers for this church that's so different than mine, much more of an inner city church surrounded by urban blight.  I will continue to pray for these children, who are so enthusiastic, but who have so many obstacles to overcome.

This post is already quite long, so I'll save my thoughts on drumming as spiritual practice for a later post, and my thoughts about children and their fragile place in the world for yet a different post.  I may write later at more length about the idea that the Holy Spirit is calling us to something with this experience; my spouse has been finding fairly cheap instruments for sale on Craig's List and eBay, and the kids were SO enthusiastic yesterday.  I have this vision of music ministry of a different sort, a music ministry that takes instruments and song to children of all sorts.

Discernment

A month ago, I returned from vacation and got the phone call from my boss, who said, "I've got HR here with me."

My first thought:  nothing good comes after those words.

My second thought:  I wish I had saved more money.

As it turns out, I was, indeed, losing my job.  But I had a chance to apply for a new job in the reorganized structure, which will be a version of what I'd been doing already.  I was luckier than many.  And I got the job, which means I'm luckier than most.

Still, it's a clear sign that it's time for some serious thinking about the future.  The issue of getting ready for the future is never very far from my mind.  But it's a different thing to be saying, "Hmm, I wonder what it might be like to be a hospice chaplain," as I often have, and to move to making definite plans.

Not that I plan to be a hospice chaplain, mind you.  I'm open to that.  But I'm just not sure of a direction yet.

So, I will be praying and writing and visioning.  Maybe I'll discern that my school is strong and that there is work for me to do here.  Maybe I'll say, "The whole field of higher education is in serious trouble.  I need a different direction."  Maybe God will give me a nudge or a push towards a future that I can't even see right now. 

I felt that push when I decided to take the teaching job that led me to administration and my current job.  It was the fall of 2001, and all my adjunct work was changing.  My teaching schedule at the University of Miami was going to require me being on campus more days a week, which would mean more hours driving long distances.  When Florida Atlantic University told the adjuncts that there would be no work in the spring of 2002 on the day after I got the offer from my current employer, I remember saying, "O.K. God, I got it.  No need for a car accident on the way home to get my attention."

I took the job, even though it had some drawbacks.  And it turned out that it wasn't as bad as it sounded on the surface, and I got to develop and teach some wonderful creative writing classes which wouldn't have been possible elsewhere.

Now I have a feeling that God may have some plans again.  I don't know what they are yet.  I'm open to all sorts of possibilities.

My church council will be studying call stories this year.  I'm glad.

I'll be logging my own discernment and call story here and over at my creativity blog. 

Channeling Our Spiritual Mentors

A week ago, we'd have had a full day of retreat planning at Lutheridge.  We met from September 9-11 to plan the Create in Me retreat.  I'm always amazed at the process.  There's a point at which I despair and think, we'll never get it done!  Then it comes together.

We started every day with Bible study, and for me, it was revelatory.  In the past, we've had pastors lead the Bible study.  This year, we approached it differently.  This year, I was in charge, but I didn't know that I was in charge until I arrived.  There was no time to prepare a traditional Bible study, the way I might have if I had more time.

In so many ways, my lack of preparation turned out to be a good thing.  It opened the door to something new.  Today and tomorrow, I'll talk about what we did and what I learned.

When we met on Sunday, we spent time brainstorming about the theme of the retreat:  Spirit Blazing.  Each year, we focus on a different aspect of God:  Creator, Christ, Holy Spirit.  We talked about all the places we see fire in the Bible, both as aspect of God and in other ways.  We talked about Bible passages.

For Bible study on Monday, I decided to focus on 2 Timothy 1:  3-7:  "3 I am grateful to God—whom I worship with a clear conscience, as my ancestors did—when I remember you constantly in my prayers night and day. 4Recalling your tears, I long to see you so that I may be filled with joy. 5I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that lived first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, lives in you. 6For this reason I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you through the laying on of my hands; ⁷for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline."

I gave the group paper to write on and read the passage.  I had them write about what needed to be rekindled in each of them individually and/or in the groups and communities of which they are part.

Then came the interesting part.  I talked about the presence of spiritual mentors in the passage.  There's Paul, writing to the younger Timothy who he has known for many years.  There's Timothy's grandmother and mother.  I asked the group to think about our own mentors.  Then we moved into a free writing exercise.

The ground rules are simple:  keep writing.  Don't stop, don't go back, don't think--just write until told to stop.

My students usually last 45 seconds until they start whimpering and wanting to stop.  Not this group.  I think they could have written all morning.

I gave them the prompt:  if your mentors were here, what advice and insight would they give you about rekindling?

I wasn't sure what would happen.  In college classrooms, I have a good sense, but I've rarely tried this experiment outside of a college classroom or my own writing desk.

Our group was mildly to wildly enthusiastic.  I did the exercise too, and I came away with important insights, which I wrote about here.

I find this process interesting, and it's a different approach to Bible study than what we usually experience.  In my experience, Bible study usually consists of an expert who has studied the text and can give background and insight.  Or it consists of the participants saying what they think--but they often haven't given the passage much thought.  That surface level, first-exposure approach can be interesting, but what we did leads to depth.

We had talked about the 2 Timothy passage on Sunday, and I'd spent the whole night thinking about it.  Then we arrived on Monday to write.  We dove deep.

Writing intensely can serve as a kind of meditation.  Many people aren't good at sitting and quieting their minds.  Free writing gives the brain the focus it needs and gives the body something to do.

I'm amazed at what bubbles to the surface in free writing.  I should do it more often.