Report from First Full Day of Synod Assembly

As I have moved through the Synod Assembly, I've taken a mental note of many things.  Because I'm traveling with a laptop, I'm not making as many handwritten notes as I might have.  But the laptop is in my room.  I wonder if I'm losing anything?  And of course, I have to wonder if it matters.

I did go back to look at old blog posts yesterday.  I was trying to determine when I was last at Synod Assembly as a voting member--it was in 2013.  In 2014, we came to the Assembly for a day so my spouse could go to a board meeting.  When I looked at my posts on my theology blog, I discovered this one from 2013 that shows that I've been thinking about seminary for a long time.

Happily, Rev. Dr. Mary Hinkle Shore the new dean and rector of Southern Seminary, reminded us yesterday that "there is no sell-by date on a call."

This Assembly has been one of the ones where I wonder why we bother to meet in person.  Most of the people running in any of the elections are running unopposed.  The reports that we've gotten could have been delivered by way of e-mail.

Still, it's good to meet in person, and I remind myself that many of the people here may need these face-to-face encounters in ways that I can never fully understand.  I ran into an old friend from my former church, and it was great to have a chance to sit with her at the WELCA table and catch up.

This year, I'm also in charge of one of the prayer stations in the chapel.  I created a prayer weaving station:

By last night, the loom was half full--that made me very happy.  The prayer chapel is very far away from the rest of the Synod events.  I'm not sure I would have found it if I hadn't been looking for it.  I brought too many strips of fabric, but that's O.K.  I'd rather be overprepared, especially since we drove here, so it didn't take much extra effort/money, the way it would have if I had to fly.

Last night, we went to a church that's also a brewery:

In the photo above, I'm standing next to one of the founders (the one in the white shirt).  He used to have an extensive home brewery set up in his garage, where people would gather to sample his beer and talk theology.  Still, the steps it took to go from the garage to the building they're in now--it sounded daunting to me.

Of course, it sounds daunting because it's not something I want to do.  What vision would make me want to fling myself at all the obstacles?

Last night, I wrote this Facebook post:   "Interesting to go to a brewery that's also a church--I would not want to create/be in charge of a brewery that's also a church. A church that is also an urban/suburban retreat and arts center--now that could be thrilling!"

There have been moments here where I've thought that once again, I'm with a group of people who would only understand part of me, the spiritual part, not the creative part.  The only place where I feel I'm with a tribe of sorts is at the Create in Me retreat.  And even there, I sometimes find myself yearning for more intellectual heft, depending on the type of Bible study we're doing.

That yearning for integration may never be fully realized--I do know that.  But it also makes me wonder if I should be contemplating an on-ground seminary program.  Southern Seminary has just announced a commitment to having their graduates leave with no debt--hurrah.  And it's in Columbia, SC, where I went to grad school and still have friends and community there.

Could we have a Florida base and a Carolina base (whether in Columbia or at Lutheridge)?  As my old boss used to say, "More will be revealed."

Now, it's time for breakfast.  One HUGE difference between this gathering of Lutherans and the gathering of AWP folks:  Lutherans get to breakfast early.  I don't have the omelette line all to myself, the way I do at AWP gatherings, where writers have stayed up too late to get up early for breakfast.

Sketching the Synod Assembly

Last week-end, I tried to follow the Southeastern Synod Assembly from a distance--they were electing a bishop, and I knew two of the candidates.

Our Florida-Bahamas Synod Assembly has not been nearly so thrilling.  We are not electing a bishop.  So far, in most of the elections that we're doing, people are running unopposed.  It doesn't make for a riveting election.

We've heard lots of reports, and while they're interesting, I did find my attention wandering away.  I'd already had a long day, in a way--I was up early catching up on grading and then there was the trip to Orlando and the checking in and the locking myself out of the room and the waiting for elevators.

So I pulled out my sketchbook.  I worried a bit that I might not seem respectful of the speakers, but I decided that if I drifted off to sleep, that would seem even less respectful.  Plus, I noticed lots of folks were tap-tap-tapping on their phones, which seems like a sure sign of lost attention to me.

I didn't have my full collection of markers, but I'm pleased with the sketch:

I found myself paying much closer attention, even though to the casual observer, I might have seemed zoned out.  I can look at that picture and remember some of the information about the good work being done by various groups.  For example, I made the marks at the bottom left of the page when the speaker was talking about seminarians helped by various scholarships.

My pastor is the official photographer for the Synod Assembly.  Yesterday I dreamed of a future where in addition to official photographers and note takers and the video record, we might also preserve a more impressionist record.

Off to a Synod Assembly

I am soon off to Synod Assembly.  My spouse will stay here, since he has a Friday night class to teach.  I am going up with my pastor and his wife--I get along well with them, so the carpool trip to Orlando doesn't cause me anxiety.

We are not electing a bishop, but we shall meet to take care of various legislative things.  I often think of these non-bishop-electing legislative years as a waste, but then I remind myself of the year that it wasn't, the year in 2009 where I was on hand to cast a vote for a more inclusive Synod.  It was not a pre-ordained deal, and my vote really counted.

This year I'm going primarily to be part of the prayer chapel creation team.  I'm creating an interactive prayer station.  I have a suitcase full of supplies to do a prayer weaving project like the one I talked about in this blog post.  More on that in a later post.

I am looking forward to being away.  Yesterday was an exhausting day at work.  Most days feel that way.  I am aware that my life may be telling me something.  I am discerning what the next steps should be.

We will be at an Embassy Suites, which will be a treat for me.  I always think about the money that we spend on these gatherings.  I worry about the better ways the money can be spent.

I haven't been to a Synod Assembly in many years.  I was able to go when we had the gathering in May, but when it moved to June, it was usually during the one time where I couldn't be away in my old job, the week of graduation.  And then, in my new job, I didn't have any time off accrued.

This year, I was so happy to be asked to be part of the prayer chapel team--I was glad that it was this year, when I have some vacation time.

This joy points me in a direction, I think.  I would love to be part of team that's creating meaningful worship.  I would love to be part of a team creating meaningful spaces.

On Sunday, as I was playing with some ideas after church in the sanctuary, ideas with fans and ribbons for Pentecost.  One woman said to me, "You should be an interior decorator."  This woman had once fussed at me for creating spaces for worship that are "too busy, too messy."  She prefers the old altar paraments.  She doesn't think that anything should be put on the altar but the Bible and the communion elements.  I took her comment on Sunday as a compliment. 

I'm assuming, of course, that she didn't mean that I should be decorating people's individual houses.

I've been thinking about seminary and wondering if there are programs out there that combine an MDiv and MFA degree, like those various degrees that combine with a law degree.

But now, back to practical matters.  Let me finish packing for Synod Assembly.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, June 9, 2019:


First Reading: Acts 2:1-21

First Reading (Alt.): Genesis 11:1-9

Psalm: Psalm 104:25-35, 37 (Psalm 104:24-34, 35b NRSV)

Second Reading: Romans 8:14-17

Second Reading (Alt.): Acts 2:1-21

Gospel: John 14:8-17 [25-27]

It's interesting to think how different churches celebrate Pentecost. Some churches will be stressing the rushing wind and the coming of the Spirit; perhaps parishioners will be exhorted to become more Spirit-filled. Some churches will be focused upon the mission of the early church, and I predict parishioners will be asked to think about the mission of the contemporary Church, both global and local.

This is one of those years when I'm relieved to turn my attention away from Acts, to think about the Gospel of John. I want something a bit more comforting, like John, not readings that make me feel inadequate, like Acts. I know it's called the Book of Acts, not the Book of Relaxation, not the Book of Taking a Nap. Still, some years I find all the energy in that book to be a bit draining. Some years, it all seems a bit loud, a bit energetic, a bit amplified.

John's Gospel reading for today has a different emphasis. Throughout the whole fourteenth chapter of John, Jesus promises that we're not going to be left alone. Jesus must know how hard it will be for his disciples; it's been somewhat easy for them as they sojourn with their Savior. But once he's gone, how will they carry on?

Once again, we have Jesus saying he will pray for the disciples. He tells the disciples that they will have everything they need as they go out into the world. He suggests that the new incarnation of himself/God/Spirit will dwell inside us.

I feel like this Gospel lesson peers straight into my soul, my tired, overstretched soul. Jesus reminds us that we are not alone. The verse after the Gospel ends has Jesus promise, "I will not leave you orphaned; I will come to you" (John 14: 18). That's the Good News of this Gospel: we are not alone. We do not have to go about our Pentecostal mission alone. Jesus reminds us that it's a team effort: "Whatever you ask in my name, I will do it, that the Father may be glorified in the Son; if you ask anything in my name, I will do it" (John 14: 13-14). Jesus reminds us of all that we can accomplish, if we would but call on God.

I love the way the Gospel ends, with these images of all these incarnations of the Divine, swirling in the world around us, gathering within us. This Gospel gives me hope that I will be enough. It's unlike some of those other readings that make me feel so inadequate. Speak in tongues? I can hardly get my laundry done in any given week. Help in the Kingdom mission of redeeming the world? Who will do the grocery shopping?

In our Gospel today, Jesus reminds us that we are enough because we're not all alone. It's a message that's so unlike the messages beamed to us from the larger culture in which so many of us live our daily lives. Our larger culture does not treasure teamwork. Our popular culture likes the larger-than-life leader, the one who goes it alone.  Don't believe me? watch T.V. for a week, watch politics, go to the movies--it's rare to see a team working together for the greater good. It's a poisonous message, one that's very useful in selling us stuff, because most of us don't feel very adequate all by ourselves.

Jesus reminds us again and again that we are more than adequate. We see disciples that are gloriously human in many of the ways that we are too, and Jesus takes a small band of these flawed humans and changes the world as he sends them out to work in small groups. Jesus can take our overscheduled selves and transform us, so that we love each other, his ultimate dream for us.

Defining Good Work

The election of a church bishop doesn't often produce such mixed emotions in me.  But over the week-end, I found myself following the election proceedings of a synod in the Lutheran church--not my synod, mind you.  But it's not often that I know personally not one but two candidates for bishop.

We all went to the same college.  I was friends with one of them while we were in undergraduate school together.  The other candidate came along later, and I got to know him through the years when we attended the Create in Me retreat together.  He's the one who won.

He already had a fascinating job in the larger Lutheran church as assistant to the bishop and executive for worship.  I spent some time wondering what elements of the new job made him want to change to be bishop for the Southeastern synod.  Both positions have the potential for making lasting change.

And then, part of me wonders why making lasting change is one of the elements that immediately come to my mind when I think about the nature of good work.

My spouse is certain that he is doing good work as a college Philosophy instructor.  He's frustrated by having so little time to make the classes even better, but adjuncts don't often have the luxury of time and all the resources they would have if they were full-time.

I go through my days rarely certain that I'm doing good work.  Actually, that's not true.  There are elements of my job that let me know I'm doing good work.  Yesterday, a student came by, and I was happy to find out that he was doing well in his English class.  A few weeks ago, he had decided that he needed to drop out of school because of a variety of family crises.  I helped him figure out how to stay enrolled in his English class so that he wouldn't have to leave school completely, and he could salvage at least part of the term.  That's good work.

But I am weary of some of the elements of my job that don't seem as essential to me.  We spend a lot of time looking for reasons why students aren't successful--but we've considered just about every possibility, both the obvious ones (they're working two jobs in addition to going to school) to the more obscure.  Do we really need to keep bringing up the possible reasons and considering them?  Do I really need to color code the classes that the dropped out students were taking so that we see if we see a pattern?   For one program, we've analyzed multiple times, and so far, nothing leaps out.

In an ideal world, we'd talk to the students, and they'd be honest about why they're leaving.  I'm fairly certain that we'd still be facing elements we can't change.  That's the frustrating part of my job.

Days like yesterday leave me dreaming of a different kind of job.  I don't want to be bishop of a synod in my church.  I think that might be a bit too similar to my current job:  lots of problems that I acknowledge but lack power to change.

I dream of a job that lets me lead people exploring the intersections where spirituality and creativity come together.  I dream of a job where I create opportunities for people to do that.  I want to explore how God speaks to us through our creative yearnings.  I want to explore how we can do our part in making the kingdom of God manifest through our creative work.  I want a better phrase than "kingdom of God."

When You Know the Candidates for Bishop of a Synod

On Friday night, my step-mom-in-law sent me this message:  "Don't you and Carl know Terri stagner-don't know her last name. She's running for bishop of the Southeastern synod."

Why yes, yes indeed we know Terri.  We go way back, and my spouse's friendship with her goes even further back, back to when they were both teens meeting at Synod gatherings, that same Synod where she is now on the list of the top 3 candidates for Bishop.

I have spent the whole week-end feeling strange and trying to figure out why I feel strange.  I knew about Terri before I met her; when I got to Newberry College, she was out for a year in a program that allowed college students to go to a church to be an intern of sorts--much the same way the internship program in seminaries sets up those opportunities. 

For a year, I heard about how wonderful she was, which made getting to know the real person difficult for me.  And yet, by the time she graduated, we were very close friends.  She went to seminary, I went to grad school, and we drifted apart, the way people did in those pre-social media days.

We had a reunion dinner last year, but I don't know her enough to assess her skills for the Bishop position.  I don't know many people in that way--primarily because I'm not sure what skills would be optimum.  I think the ELCA needs new ways of being church, and I'm not sure that the current administrative structure is the optimal one for that.  But it might be.

When it comes to many societal institutions--church, higher ed, family, k-12 ed, government--I'm just not sure of what we need to do.  It's easy to be paralyzed, but modern times don't allow that.

And here's where the story gets even stranger.  This morning, I realized that I know one of the other three candidates, Kevin Strickland.  He, too, went to Newberry College, but he attended after I was there.  I know him from meeting him at the Create in Me retreat, back when he was a parish pastor, before he skyrocketed to his current position as Assistant to the Bishop (that's the national Bishop).  He's an amazing Bible study leader, an incredible musician, and extraordinary creator of worship.

I saw the 3 candidates' photos on the SE Synod Facebook page.  The 3rd candidate appears to be a non-white female.

Let us take a minute to pray:  Oh God who makes all things new, please be with the people of the Southeastern Synod as they elect their new bishop.  You have a larger vision than any one of us can imagine.  Please lead your people--today and every day.

It's not my best prayer, but it's heartfelt--and now, to get ready for church, where we will pray some more.

Social Justice in the Form of a Bus Stop

When I look back on the events of this week, I think my all time favorite will be the news that in 30 days, we'll have a bus stop in front of our campus.  We've been working a long time to get a bus stop.

When I first started at the school, in the fall of 2016, I was told about the need for a bus stop and that the campus had been told that we couldn't get a bus stop until we had at least 250 students.  But as we looked at our campus neighborhood, we realized that we're not the only business on the street.  The nearest bus stops were over a mile away.

In August of 2017, I was at a Hollywood Chamber of Commerce breakfast, and I had a chance to speak to the mayor of Hollywood.  You may remember that I wrote about it in this blog post.  I realized I had one chance, and I introduced myself and identified the college campus, and then I said, "I know that a lot of government attention goes to the beach and the downtown area of Hollywood, and I live in the historic district, so I understand that it’s easier to work for the prettier parts of town. But the citizens who live out west need government help too.”

He said he would see what he could do.  I came home ecstatic, and my spouse reminded me that it's not just up to the mayor.  But throughout the months, we've seen the mayor at various events, and we've always reminded him about the need for a bus stop.

On Thursday, my boss told me to look out the window.  Lo and behold, there was a worker, installing a bus stop sign.  My co-worker (who has kept up the drumbeat for a bus stop even when others got tired) took this picture:

I realize that we may have had nothing to do with this bus stop.  There's been a lot of development, so an increase in bus lines may have been in the works long before we started advocating.

But I'm letting myself feel a sense of accomplishment anyway.  We saw a need, and we saw a solution, and we kept it in front of politicians.  I like the idea that there are still politicians who will do the work required to make life better for all of their constituencies, not just the rich and powerful.

I realize that some people might scoff at the idea that we've done anything worthwhile.  They might point to the crisis with immigrants being treated inhumanely at the border.  They might point to the Constitutional crisis that seems to be unfolding at the Federal level.

I would remind us all that most humans aren't wired to be able to respond to crises on this global level, at least not on a regular basis.  We are, however, able to help those that are within a certain radius of us.  We're more likely to understand the situation on a local level:  who's hurting and how we can help.  We're likely to be able to make those changes happen.

At the end of my blog post that I wrote back in August 2017, I wrote this:  "I can't make Trump quit sending out tweets that bring us to the brink of annihilation, but if I could get a busline to an impoverished area, that would make me feel proud."

Let me take a moment to feel proud.  And then let me keep working on making the world a better place.  It will take more than a bus stop, but for the people who need a bus stop, what we've accomplished is a big deal.