Just before the aforementioned Angela Davis broadcast, I found myself at a youth workers luncheon organized by Insert Para-church Organization Here. Which is to say, I found myself in a room full of spiky-haired young men and their older, less hip-looking counterparts. It was a land where people spoke of "inviting Jesus into their lives," where everyone but me seemed to have a praise band, and where mission trips were about "getting people saved." It was a land where t-shirts saying "Poverty Sucks" were apparently appropriate (Thank you, Captain Obvious). It was a land where I was the only woman, which marked me out pretty much instantly as the only liberal as well. This is the same land that produces sold-on-TV albums of "the best power anthems of the Christian faith" and includes the song "Butterfly Kisses," which as far as I can tell has absolutely nothing to do with Christian faith, and which obnoxiously gets stuck in my head and warps my entire sense of being. Anyway.
I have a bit of an allergic response to this sort of thing, due to over-exposure earlier in life. Honestly, I came so very close to just getting the heck out of Dodge before we could even break out the sandwiches.
But, I stuck it out, and it wasn't that bad. These are people who care about kids. They want to provide ways for kids to follow Jesus and make generally good life choices. We can work together with this. Also, we broke up into pairs and prayed for each other's ministries. I didn't realize how long it had been since I had done this whole prayer partnering thing until I noticed how odd it was making me feel. But once we got started, it was good. Sometimes I need to give other Christians a bit of a break.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Save Us
Today I listened to the end of a presentation by Angela Davis on public radio, in which she was asked about the presidential election, and specifically her thoughts on Barak Obama. She refrained from giving a straightforward personal opinion about his candidacy, but she did talk about the fact that this is an interesting election in general - in large part because younger voters, previously thought to be apathetic, actually care about it. She remarked that the unfortunate part of the Obama phenomenon is that we have a bit of a messiah complex. We superimpose all of our hopes for the country upon this single person, and we hope that if this one person is elected, the entire structure and ethos of the government will change. Of course, the fact is that change of that magnitude takes many people, working on many different levels and in a wide variety of ways.
It was interesting timing for me to hear this program, because I sat though a demonstration of messiah complex just last night, on a smaller scale. My regional synod has some problems. We have a high proportion of churches struggling numerically and financially. We spend a lot of time dealing with churches in conflict and churches who simply can't afford to call ministers. We've been without a full-time synod executive for quite some time, and all of us who are involved in classis and synod business are feeling the crunch of having too little vision, too little support, and too little time.
So, we are facing a restructuring proposal which involves a synod exec and three area ministers. My cynical sense is that we're looking for three miracle workers and a Jesus with administrative skills, but let's put that aside. At the very least, the success of this proposal rests on having one incredible synod executive who can give us all the vision we lack.
We have a bit of a messiah complex, I think.
If we were compliant people, quick to buy into someone else's vision, I might think this was a workable idea. If we were people with any history of responding well to hierarchical authority, it might seem plausible. But we are a notoriously contentious synod when it comes to vision coming down from denominational leadership. I refer to myself as much as anyone else, as I have my share of issues with the direction coming to us from "on high." We cling to our polity - rightfully, I think - that emphasizes decision-making at a semi-local level. In short, we deeply resent being told what to do.
And yet, now we want to hire someone...to tell us what to do.
I believe we need a synod executive, and I believe the right person can help us get better at being the church in our area. But I wonder about this assumption that the right person/people, who we want to bring in with very little sense of what we actually want them to do, can rescue us from the mess of decline and conflict. Is this what we really want? If we have it, will we be able or willing to follow it? I'm not convinced.
It was interesting timing for me to hear this program, because I sat though a demonstration of messiah complex just last night, on a smaller scale. My regional synod has some problems. We have a high proportion of churches struggling numerically and financially. We spend a lot of time dealing with churches in conflict and churches who simply can't afford to call ministers. We've been without a full-time synod executive for quite some time, and all of us who are involved in classis and synod business are feeling the crunch of having too little vision, too little support, and too little time.
So, we are facing a restructuring proposal which involves a synod exec and three area ministers. My cynical sense is that we're looking for three miracle workers and a Jesus with administrative skills, but let's put that aside. At the very least, the success of this proposal rests on having one incredible synod executive who can give us all the vision we lack.
We have a bit of a messiah complex, I think.
If we were compliant people, quick to buy into someone else's vision, I might think this was a workable idea. If we were people with any history of responding well to hierarchical authority, it might seem plausible. But we are a notoriously contentious synod when it comes to vision coming down from denominational leadership. I refer to myself as much as anyone else, as I have my share of issues with the direction coming to us from "on high." We cling to our polity - rightfully, I think - that emphasizes decision-making at a semi-local level. In short, we deeply resent being told what to do.
And yet, now we want to hire someone...to tell us what to do.
I believe we need a synod executive, and I believe the right person can help us get better at being the church in our area. But I wonder about this assumption that the right person/people, who we want to bring in with very little sense of what we actually want them to do, can rescue us from the mess of decline and conflict. Is this what we really want? If we have it, will we be able or willing to follow it? I'm not convinced.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Denominational Crappola
Nine out of the 120 minister delegates to General Synod this year are women. I'm not usually a stat-counter, but this depresses me. My own regional synod, which usually evens the ratio a bit, does not have a single female minister attending this year. We're doing a bit better with the elder delegates, but still. I think this is the only synod that has a fairly even split between male and female clergy, and it doesn't occur to us to send more women? It was so irritating last year to look around General Synod and see so many tables with just men - and generally white men over 50 (and that's a young estimate) at that.
As a side note, when I was a delegate last year, people kept asking me whether I was a seminarian or denominational staff. It seems the idea that I would be a minister was just too much to contemplate.
Anyway, I have to wonder, if the demographics shifted a bit, would we really have spent so long arguing about whether we should be opposed to torture? Yes, it's true - we decided not to oppose torture. Hello. When my denomination does these things, I just think, "Wow, I have no idea what you people are doing. I'm going to go try to do some ministry now."
As a side note, when I was a delegate last year, people kept asking me whether I was a seminarian or denominational staff. It seems the idea that I would be a minister was just too much to contemplate.
Anyway, I have to wonder, if the demographics shifted a bit, would we really have spent so long arguing about whether we should be opposed to torture? Yes, it's true - we decided not to oppose torture. Hello. When my denomination does these things, I just think, "Wow, I have no idea what you people are doing. I'm going to go try to do some ministry now."
Friday, April 18, 2008
An Up and Down Week
It's been a weird week. Not bad, just much more varied in terms of my internal state than most. It all began on Sunday morning, when my brain refused to be convinced that I really was in church, talking to church-going people, and not in "the bistro," as my senior pastor refers to it. Although I do not believe in going about in the world chatting in Christianese, or couching our worship services in so much religious language that no one really knows what we're talking about, I do know that there is language that is particular to the church, and that it's acceptable to use it when you are the liturgist. It's just that none of that language would come to mind on Sunday morning. Fortunately, the guy who records our services was a bit late at starting the recording, and therefore my part of the service cannot be found and heard repeatedly online.
We went on after church to have a presentation and lunch to discuss the issue of homosexuality in the RCA. We are just beginning the official denominational dialogue process in our area. I would have been really into this conversation three years ago. Right now, I'm tired of the same old questions, the same old explanations, and the same old debates. I'm tired of having alleged conversations with people who not only read and use the Bible much differently than I do, but whose ways of doing these things seem to compel them to insist that I come around to their ways before they'll genuinely listen to a word I say. I'm tired of faith being treated like a Jenga tower, built of blocks of particular interpretations of Scripture, that might collapse entirely if you pull out the wrong block. Surely our faith is bigger and steadier than that. Surely our faith can withstand some scrutiny, challenge, and change. Surely our faith makes us safe enough to ask potentially scary questions. If not, what good is it? (End of rant...for now)
Anyway. On Monday I had lunch with a group of clergy women. We do this about once a month, and it's fun. I do wonder why so many clergy always seem to be talking as though they are in a worship service. But then, clearly I have the opposite problem. I followed up lunch with several hours of meetings. Good meetings, but meetings nonetheless. Monday is usually my day off. I've come to rely on this day off to get me centered for the coming week. I believe I may have come to the core of why I've felt off-kilter the rest of the week.
Since Monday, I've had a highly erratic sleep schedule. Admittedly, my sleep patterns tend to be a bit odd, but this week you'd think I was two different people: one of whom is wide awake until 4am and only needs four hours of sleep, and the other who is exhausted at 10pm and needs more like twelve hours of sleep...probably to recover from several nights as that four-hour-of-sleep person. Note to self: I am no longer eighteen.
The new burst of spring warmth has made me really happy. I've spent a lot of time working outdoors, doing my reading and planning at a patio table with my dog lounging in the sun beside me, and being delighted that my job allows me this flexibility. I've also found myself being frighteningly angry on behalf of a friend who's having some devastating problems lately. I've been elated that Ted the Tumor is just hanging out up there and not doing any damage, and purely joyful about singing with my band. And I've had brief but staggering moments of deep sadness, wondering who it is that I really confide in when I don't actually feel like everything is going to be fine. Because, you know, that does happen. It doesn't happen very often, and it doesn't last very long, but it's there. It would probably be good for me to open up a bit about that stuff from time to time and not always be cheerily upbeat or listening to someone else's problems. As a wise friend recently told me, it would be okay for me to be a total loser sometimes, and people would even still love and care for me. The problem is, this is not a theory I care to test.
I'm working from home this afternoon in an attempt to get myself on a bit more even footing before venturing out. This is already such a long post that I hesitate to go into this, but something else has happened this week that I've found really interesting. I had begun to wonder a bit about some of the aspects of my job that involve hanging out and building relationships with people in the hopes that I can offer them an opportunity to discuss spiritual issues. For a while there, it seemed like all the conversations I was having were about futile, surface sorts of things, and I was considering a total reorientation of the outreach portion of my job. But then, this week, in the midst of all my work and personal wondering, half the world seems to have decided that it's time to start hitting me with the heavy spiritual and theological and life questions. I LOVE getting to do this exploration with people.
We went on after church to have a presentation and lunch to discuss the issue of homosexuality in the RCA. We are just beginning the official denominational dialogue process in our area. I would have been really into this conversation three years ago. Right now, I'm tired of the same old questions, the same old explanations, and the same old debates. I'm tired of having alleged conversations with people who not only read and use the Bible much differently than I do, but whose ways of doing these things seem to compel them to insist that I come around to their ways before they'll genuinely listen to a word I say. I'm tired of faith being treated like a Jenga tower, built of blocks of particular interpretations of Scripture, that might collapse entirely if you pull out the wrong block. Surely our faith is bigger and steadier than that. Surely our faith can withstand some scrutiny, challenge, and change. Surely our faith makes us safe enough to ask potentially scary questions. If not, what good is it? (End of rant...for now)
Anyway. On Monday I had lunch with a group of clergy women. We do this about once a month, and it's fun. I do wonder why so many clergy always seem to be talking as though they are in a worship service. But then, clearly I have the opposite problem. I followed up lunch with several hours of meetings. Good meetings, but meetings nonetheless. Monday is usually my day off. I've come to rely on this day off to get me centered for the coming week. I believe I may have come to the core of why I've felt off-kilter the rest of the week.
Since Monday, I've had a highly erratic sleep schedule. Admittedly, my sleep patterns tend to be a bit odd, but this week you'd think I was two different people: one of whom is wide awake until 4am and only needs four hours of sleep, and the other who is exhausted at 10pm and needs more like twelve hours of sleep...probably to recover from several nights as that four-hour-of-sleep person. Note to self: I am no longer eighteen.
The new burst of spring warmth has made me really happy. I've spent a lot of time working outdoors, doing my reading and planning at a patio table with my dog lounging in the sun beside me, and being delighted that my job allows me this flexibility. I've also found myself being frighteningly angry on behalf of a friend who's having some devastating problems lately. I've been elated that Ted the Tumor is just hanging out up there and not doing any damage, and purely joyful about singing with my band. And I've had brief but staggering moments of deep sadness, wondering who it is that I really confide in when I don't actually feel like everything is going to be fine. Because, you know, that does happen. It doesn't happen very often, and it doesn't last very long, but it's there. It would probably be good for me to open up a bit about that stuff from time to time and not always be cheerily upbeat or listening to someone else's problems. As a wise friend recently told me, it would be okay for me to be a total loser sometimes, and people would even still love and care for me. The problem is, this is not a theory I care to test.
I'm working from home this afternoon in an attempt to get myself on a bit more even footing before venturing out. This is already such a long post that I hesitate to go into this, but something else has happened this week that I've found really interesting. I had begun to wonder a bit about some of the aspects of my job that involve hanging out and building relationships with people in the hopes that I can offer them an opportunity to discuss spiritual issues. For a while there, it seemed like all the conversations I was having were about futile, surface sorts of things, and I was considering a total reorientation of the outreach portion of my job. But then, this week, in the midst of all my work and personal wondering, half the world seems to have decided that it's time to start hitting me with the heavy spiritual and theological and life questions. I LOVE getting to do this exploration with people.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Yes, I am a Geek
In my younger days, I owned my very own gavel. Actually, I still have it, somewhere. I ran meetings frequently, and I ran them strictly according to Robert's Rules of Order. Sometimes we even competed against other teams at running faux meetings. Yes, I realize that this is a strange concept, but I was really quite good at chairing meetings and keeping everyone in line with parliamentary procedure.
I was asked recently to do something that involves my knowledge of Robert's Rules of Order. You see, the Church is running on a shortage of people who actually know how to run (or participate in) a meeting in an orderly way, despite all our "decent and in order" talk. They certainly don't teach us these things in seminary, and most of my classmates didn't chair parli pro teams in high school. Go figure.
Anyway, my memory of Robert's Rules is good enough that I'm usually pretty irked by the way meetings are run, and sometimes suspect that one could easily take over the our assemblies simply by knowing the rules. And yet, my confidence faltered a bit at the idea of consulting on this matter in an official capacity. I've run a lot of meetings since high school, but it's been thirteen years since the group of people in the meeting knew or cared as much about the rules as I did, and it's likely that I've gotten lax out of a desire to not have to tear my hair out in frustration. And...I CAN'T FIND MY ROBERT'S RULES OF ORDER NEWLY REVISED. Gah.
So, I went online, and found a wealthy of Robert's Rules websites! So much information! So many charts about what is amendable, debatable, and requires a majority vote! So many orders of precedence! There are even quizzes to tell you whether you actually remember anything from your parli pro team days! I got so excited about subsidiary motions that suddenly I had been prowling sites for an hour without realizing it. And so now I need to get back to work, but first I thought I would share this story, at which some of you will surely be quite amused. And if I've lent you my RONR, please give it back. Thanks.
I was asked recently to do something that involves my knowledge of Robert's Rules of Order. You see, the Church is running on a shortage of people who actually know how to run (or participate in) a meeting in an orderly way, despite all our "decent and in order" talk. They certainly don't teach us these things in seminary, and most of my classmates didn't chair parli pro teams in high school. Go figure.
Anyway, my memory of Robert's Rules is good enough that I'm usually pretty irked by the way meetings are run, and sometimes suspect that one could easily take over the our assemblies simply by knowing the rules. And yet, my confidence faltered a bit at the idea of consulting on this matter in an official capacity. I've run a lot of meetings since high school, but it's been thirteen years since the group of people in the meeting knew or cared as much about the rules as I did, and it's likely that I've gotten lax out of a desire to not have to tear my hair out in frustration. And...I CAN'T FIND MY ROBERT'S RULES OF ORDER NEWLY REVISED. Gah.
So, I went online, and found a wealthy of Robert's Rules websites! So much information! So many charts about what is amendable, debatable, and requires a majority vote! So many orders of precedence! There are even quizzes to tell you whether you actually remember anything from your parli pro team days! I got so excited about subsidiary motions that suddenly I had been prowling sites for an hour without realizing it. And so now I need to get back to work, but first I thought I would share this story, at which some of you will surely be quite amused. And if I've lent you my RONR, please give it back. Thanks.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Jesus
I've spent the week talking about "the lesser-known Jesus." It was really great. The only catch is that the Jesus presented in the lectures was not lesser-known to me. So I've been wondering about this gap between what many people apparently learn about Jesus, and what I've learned about Jesus.
I suspect this begins with the fact that my exposure to Sunday School and other such church children's programs was somewhat limited. I do remember gluing cotton balls onto paper to make a sheep, but I never really connected that to Jesus - which I suspect is fortunate. I remember the baby Jesus of nativity plays, but his only relation to me was that he provided me an opportunity to get into the spotlight. I remember churches made of popsicle sticks and Jesus' name spelled out in wooden cut-outs, but none of that seemed to have much to do with a real person, or anything I should do beyond learning to use a glue gun.
I went to a Vacation Bible School program once that involved walking around all week in sandals with toga-like sheets tied around us over our clothes, and participating in various activities somewhat resembling what people at Jesus' time would have done in daily life. A man played the role of Jesus and wandered around the "village," helping with the woodworking projects, periodically telling parables, and passing out bread. I came home every day with dusty feet. I remember thinking that this was the coolest VBS I ever attended, and as I look back, it probably shaped more of my picture of Jesus than any of my other church experiences as a child. Jesus was someone with whom we could interact.
Skip through my high school years, during which I seldom thought about Jesus or any related topic. At the end of my freshman year of college, through an odd series of events, I ended up at a retreat with our InterVarsity Christian Fellowship chapter. The beginner track was an intensive study of the Gospel of Mark. I had what I can only describe as a serious encounter with Jesus through that inductive study. I met a Jesus who was compassionate and acerbic, joyful and sarcastic. I met a Jesus who laughed, cried, taught, touched, and yelled. This Jesus was not cotton balls or wooden cut-outs. This Jesus was a real person...and more. I was hooked.
I dove into the InterVarsity scene, and not much time passed before I began to be introduced to a couple of different pictures of Jesus. One was stoic at best and stern at worst, flatly demanding a particular kind of allegiance and consigning those who didn't fall in line to an eternity in flames. The other was unfailingly sweet, placidly holding our hands as we strolled down the beaches of life.
Frankly, neither of these perspectives quite measured up to the Jesus I met in Mark or the other Gospels.
Academic and personal study helped me back (and forward) to a Jesus whose message had political as well as personal implications, and who wanted to do more in me and in the world than hang out in my heart. The broad range of Jesus' emotions and reactions recorded in the Gospels, the very humanity of Jesus, is what makes the incarnation so important. The cosmic Christ is not a flat, one-dimensional character. A Christ who is transforming the world is both comforting and disconcerting, both delighted and indignant, both personal and universal. That's the Jesus who called me, and that's the Jesus I want other people to meet. No cotton balls needed.
I suspect this begins with the fact that my exposure to Sunday School and other such church children's programs was somewhat limited. I do remember gluing cotton balls onto paper to make a sheep, but I never really connected that to Jesus - which I suspect is fortunate. I remember the baby Jesus of nativity plays, but his only relation to me was that he provided me an opportunity to get into the spotlight. I remember churches made of popsicle sticks and Jesus' name spelled out in wooden cut-outs, but none of that seemed to have much to do with a real person, or anything I should do beyond learning to use a glue gun.
I went to a Vacation Bible School program once that involved walking around all week in sandals with toga-like sheets tied around us over our clothes, and participating in various activities somewhat resembling what people at Jesus' time would have done in daily life. A man played the role of Jesus and wandered around the "village," helping with the woodworking projects, periodically telling parables, and passing out bread. I came home every day with dusty feet. I remember thinking that this was the coolest VBS I ever attended, and as I look back, it probably shaped more of my picture of Jesus than any of my other church experiences as a child. Jesus was someone with whom we could interact.
Skip through my high school years, during which I seldom thought about Jesus or any related topic. At the end of my freshman year of college, through an odd series of events, I ended up at a retreat with our InterVarsity Christian Fellowship chapter. The beginner track was an intensive study of the Gospel of Mark. I had what I can only describe as a serious encounter with Jesus through that inductive study. I met a Jesus who was compassionate and acerbic, joyful and sarcastic. I met a Jesus who laughed, cried, taught, touched, and yelled. This Jesus was not cotton balls or wooden cut-outs. This Jesus was a real person...and more. I was hooked.
I dove into the InterVarsity scene, and not much time passed before I began to be introduced to a couple of different pictures of Jesus. One was stoic at best and stern at worst, flatly demanding a particular kind of allegiance and consigning those who didn't fall in line to an eternity in flames. The other was unfailingly sweet, placidly holding our hands as we strolled down the beaches of life.
Frankly, neither of these perspectives quite measured up to the Jesus I met in Mark or the other Gospels.
Academic and personal study helped me back (and forward) to a Jesus whose message had political as well as personal implications, and who wanted to do more in me and in the world than hang out in my heart. The broad range of Jesus' emotions and reactions recorded in the Gospels, the very humanity of Jesus, is what makes the incarnation so important. The cosmic Christ is not a flat, one-dimensional character. A Christ who is transforming the world is both comforting and disconcerting, both delighted and indignant, both personal and universal. That's the Jesus who called me, and that's the Jesus I want other people to meet. No cotton balls needed.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Last Day
It has really been a lovely week here at Hogwarts Meets Jesus. It's been a bit lower key than the last conference I attended here; the group is considerably less social and many of them go to bed a whole lot earlier. But it's still been fun. Last night a group of us was singing in the refectory until the wee hours (slightly less wee than the hours kept in the summer, but wee enough given the early rising time). I'm hoping our loudness didn't keep anyone else awake. We're in the last session right now, talking about how to help people engage with Jesus. It continues to strike me that the church has done a real disservice to people by so limiting our perceptions of Jesus. I'm not sure what else to say about that right now. Hopefully it will all become more coherent with further reflection.
And since I am already multitasking, here is the Revgal Friday Five, which I haven't done forever.
1. How many times have you moved? When was the last time?
I think something in the 18-22 times range, depending on whether you count moving during college and such. I moved most recently from my first church about a half hour's drive away to the small city where I now live and work. I just completed this move less than a week ago, despite having started it almost four months ago.
2. What do you love and hate about moving?
Love the sense of newness, and the purging of old stuff I haven't looked at during the time I've lived in the old place. Hate the soreness after hauling furniture. Hate hate hate having to ask people for help moving.
3. Do you do it yourself or hire movers?
Because of finances (or lack thereof, rather), I've generally done it myself. The last time, I hired movers for the main part - and then recently discovered that I should have utilized those people to move more things. The best, easiest move I ever had was to the third floor of an apartment building. I set up a big party and just told each guest to bring a load up the stairs. It was fast and fun.
4. Advice for surviving and thriving during a move?
Use it as an opportunity to give or throw away unnecessary things. Accept help from friends. Unpack sooner rather than later.
5. Are you in the middle of any inner moves, if not outer ones?
Eh, everything is moving right now, internally and externally.
Bonus: Share a piece of music/poetry/film/book that expresses something about what moving means to you.
Two pieces of music, with similar names. "Long Way Home" by Enter the Haggis, which has a sort of yearning to find a sense of home despite physically wandering, and my own song, "Long Road Home," which...hmm. I guess it's about the hope of home, and the journey toward it.
And since I am already multitasking, here is the Revgal Friday Five, which I haven't done forever.
1. How many times have you moved? When was the last time?
I think something in the 18-22 times range, depending on whether you count moving during college and such. I moved most recently from my first church about a half hour's drive away to the small city where I now live and work. I just completed this move less than a week ago, despite having started it almost four months ago.
2. What do you love and hate about moving?
Love the sense of newness, and the purging of old stuff I haven't looked at during the time I've lived in the old place. Hate the soreness after hauling furniture. Hate hate hate having to ask people for help moving.
3. Do you do it yourself or hire movers?
Because of finances (or lack thereof, rather), I've generally done it myself. The last time, I hired movers for the main part - and then recently discovered that I should have utilized those people to move more things. The best, easiest move I ever had was to the third floor of an apartment building. I set up a big party and just told each guest to bring a load up the stairs. It was fast and fun.
4. Advice for surviving and thriving during a move?
Use it as an opportunity to give or throw away unnecessary things. Accept help from friends. Unpack sooner rather than later.
5. Are you in the middle of any inner moves, if not outer ones?
Eh, everything is moving right now, internally and externally.
Bonus: Share a piece of music/poetry/film/book that expresses something about what moving means to you.
Two pieces of music, with similar names. "Long Way Home" by Enter the Haggis, which has a sort of yearning to find a sense of home despite physically wandering, and my own song, "Long Road Home," which...hmm. I guess it's about the hope of home, and the journey toward it.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Assorted Good News
Ted the Tumor (yes, it has a name now) is holding steady in his benign and non-growing state.
It's very fun and novel to be at a continuing education event in which we talk about Jesus. Oddly, this is not what ministers usually do when we get together.
Listening to John Bell talk all day makes me miss Scotland a lot. However, it's nice to hear someone else talking about Jesus as a real human being with moods and circumstances and choices.
It's very fun and novel to be at a continuing education event in which we talk about Jesus. Oddly, this is not what ministers usually do when we get together.
Listening to John Bell talk all day makes me miss Scotland a lot. However, it's nice to hear someone else talking about Jesus as a real human being with moods and circumstances and choices.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
The Curse of the Professional Imagination
The gist is that both of the areas in which we are well-trained - the intellectual, historical analysis of the Gospels and the popular, personalized view of Jesus - fall quite short of giving us a complete picture of who Jesus is or what he did/does.
It's no great surprise to me to be reminded that we tend to read Jesus through the lens of Paul, since this has been one of my pet peeves for a while (and I want to emphasize that reading Jesus through the lens of Paul, and therefore limiting our view of Jesus to the events Paul mentioned - his birth, death, and resurrection - is different from reading with the entire canon informing our interpretation, which I believe to be a fine and necessary thing). It also wasn't surprising to be informed that we have very few personal details about Jesus or any of the other characters in the Gospels. But it was surprising to see what came out when we were given photographs of various people and asked to imagine these people as some of the well-known characters in the Gospels.
I am supposed to preach today in a small group and I still cannot find my sermon about the myth of the sheep-hugging Jesus. I find this very unfortunate, and I fear that I'm going to have to preach the sermon about the wedding at Cana that got me accused of implying that Jesus was a lush. May John Bell not be the section leader of my preaching group, and may the others in my group be forgiving.
Now we're talking about the problematic pictures of Jesus presented by hymns, especially Christmas carols. Again, not surprising...but insightful, and hilarious. "We don't have pictures of Jesus vomiting over his mother's blue gown," for example. I'm having a good time here, even though people go to bed startlingly early and wake up at an hour which is painful to me.
It's no great surprise to me to be reminded that we tend to read Jesus through the lens of Paul, since this has been one of my pet peeves for a while (and I want to emphasize that reading Jesus through the lens of Paul, and therefore limiting our view of Jesus to the events Paul mentioned - his birth, death, and resurrection - is different from reading with the entire canon informing our interpretation, which I believe to be a fine and necessary thing). It also wasn't surprising to be informed that we have very few personal details about Jesus or any of the other characters in the Gospels. But it was surprising to see what came out when we were given photographs of various people and asked to imagine these people as some of the well-known characters in the Gospels.
I am supposed to preach today in a small group and I still cannot find my sermon about the myth of the sheep-hugging Jesus. I find this very unfortunate, and I fear that I'm going to have to preach the sermon about the wedding at Cana that got me accused of implying that Jesus was a lush. May John Bell not be the section leader of my preaching group, and may the others in my group be forgiving.
Now we're talking about the problematic pictures of Jesus presented by hymns, especially Christmas carols. Again, not surprising...but insightful, and hilarious. "We don't have pictures of Jesus vomiting over his mother's blue gown," for example. I'm having a good time here, even though people go to bed startlingly early and wake up at an hour which is painful to me.
Monday, April 07, 2008
The Conference Begins
I've arrived at Hogwarts Meets Jesus. St. Casserole is not yet here, and that makes me sad. I can't find the sermon I had planned to preach in small group tomorrow, and that makes me even sadder. I thought I was the youngest person here by about a decade, but someone else who appears to be in my general age range has just arrived. We have an unusually large representation of RCA folk here, which is odd. Even odder is the fact that I had not previously met any of them. John Bell is about to start talking about the "curse of the professional imagination," so it's time for me to go.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Movin' On Out (Finally)
Today I arrived home and found that the only dinner-like food in my house was a Lean Cuisine meal consisting of a miniscule portion of chicken and a small pile of green beans, all in some sort of bland, runny "sauce." I thought, "Fantastic! Only 140 calories; I can be so good for dinner tonight!" Seriously, that's what I thought.
But, you know, I spent about six hours today moving large boxes and furniture out of my old parsonage (I know, I know, it's been two months), and then another two hours moving it all into the new apartment (where it totally doesn't fit). So I was famished, and 140 calories just didn't do it for me. Half a block of smoked gouda and a lot of Triscuits later, I'm feeling full, but not so healthy. If it's any comfort, I didn't actually eat it all. I shared some with my dog, who will be going away tomorrow so that I can go hang out with John Bell, St. Casserole, PPB, and assorted other people on Monday. Oh, we're going to talk about Jesus, too, not just hang out.
I thought I had only left a few things in the parsonage, and it would take a short time to collect them when the time came. It turns out that "a few things" really means "all the things that were bulky, unnecessary, hiding in corners and cupboards, or haven't been sorted through in at least three years." About an hour in, I just wanted to hire someone to come with a dump truck and haul it all away.
But, you know, I spent about six hours today moving large boxes and furniture out of my old parsonage (I know, I know, it's been two months), and then another two hours moving it all into the new apartment (where it totally doesn't fit). So I was famished, and 140 calories just didn't do it for me. Half a block of smoked gouda and a lot of Triscuits later, I'm feeling full, but not so healthy. If it's any comfort, I didn't actually eat it all. I shared some with my dog, who will be going away tomorrow so that I can go hang out with John Bell, St. Casserole, PPB, and assorted other people on Monday. Oh, we're going to talk about Jesus, too, not just hang out.
I thought I had only left a few things in the parsonage, and it would take a short time to collect them when the time came. It turns out that "a few things" really means "all the things that were bulky, unnecessary, hiding in corners and cupboards, or haven't been sorted through in at least three years." About an hour in, I just wanted to hire someone to come with a dump truck and haul it all away.
Friday, April 04, 2008
MRI
I took another ride through the big magnetic tube yesterday. My favorite part is when they give you earplugs, wait for you to get them fully stuffed into your ears, and then start asking questions and giving instructions. Brilliant. I'll find out the results in about a week.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Privileged
I had a conversation with a colleague today that made me realize that my childhood was not entirely typical - whatever typical may be. So, I was wondering about the concept of privilege when I came across this meme.
What Privileges Do You Have?
Based on an exercise about class and privilege developed by Will Barratt, Meagan Cahill, Angie Carlen, Minnette Huck, Drew Lurker, Stacy Ploskonka at Illinois State University.
(If you participate in this blog game, they ask that you PLEASE acknowledge their copyright.)
Directions: Bold the statements that apply to you.
1. Father went to college.
2. Father finished college.
3. Mother went to college.
4. Mother finished college.
5. Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor.
6. Were the same or higher social class than your high school teachers.
7. Had more than 50 books in your childhood home.
8. Had more than 500 books in your childhood home.
9. Were read children’s books by a parent.
10. Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18 (assuming that sports count).
11. Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18 (assuming that sports count).
12. The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively. (This depends on how you think women of my age are portrayed in the media...I don't think it's entirely positive, but I know that's not what they mean.)
13. Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18.
14. Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs.
15. Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs.
16. Went to a private high school.
17. Went to summer camp (Once, to horse camp, and I paid for a good portion of it myself.)
18. Had a private tutor before you turned 18.
19. Family vacations involved staying at hotels.
20. Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18.
21. Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them.
22. There was original art in your house when you were a child.
23. You and your family lived in a single-family house.
24. Your parents owned their own house or apartment before you left home.
25. You had your own room as a child.
26. You had a phone in your room before you turned 18.
27. Participated in a SAT/ACT prep course.
28. Had your own TV in your room in high school.
29. Owned a mutual fund or IRA in high school or college.
30. Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16.
31. Went on a cruise with your family.
32. Went on more than one cruise with your family.
33. Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up.
34. You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family.
What Privileges Do You Have?
Based on an exercise about class and privilege developed by Will Barratt, Meagan Cahill, Angie Carlen, Minnette Huck, Drew Lurker, Stacy Ploskonka at Illinois State University.
(If you participate in this blog game, they ask that you PLEASE acknowledge their copyright.)
Directions: Bold the statements that apply to you.
1. Father went to college.
2. Father finished college.
3. Mother went to college.
4. Mother finished college.
5. Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor.
6. Were the same or higher social class than your high school teachers.
7. Had more than 50 books in your childhood home.
8. Had more than 500 books in your childhood home.
9. Were read children’s books by a parent.
10. Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18 (assuming that sports count).
11. Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18 (assuming that sports count).
12. The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively. (This depends on how you think women of my age are portrayed in the media...I don't think it's entirely positive, but I know that's not what they mean.)
13. Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18.
14. Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs.
15. Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs.
16. Went to a private high school.
17. Went to summer camp (Once, to horse camp, and I paid for a good portion of it myself.)
18. Had a private tutor before you turned 18.
19. Family vacations involved staying at hotels.
20. Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18.
21. Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them.
22. There was original art in your house when you were a child.
23. You and your family lived in a single-family house.
24. Your parents owned their own house or apartment before you left home.
25. You had your own room as a child.
26. You had a phone in your room before you turned 18.
27. Participated in a SAT/ACT prep course.
28. Had your own TV in your room in high school.
29. Owned a mutual fund or IRA in high school or college.
30. Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16.
31. Went on a cruise with your family.
32. Went on more than one cruise with your family.
33. Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up.
34. You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Thoughts after Beginnings and Beyond
I am home, having sneaked out early from the pastoral start-up retreat. Okay, I actually left with the full knowledge of everyone involved. It was better than I expected; we talked about some interesting and helpful topics, and I got to spend time with some people I haven't seen in a while and others who I've met numerous times but didn't know very well before. However, the time came when to stay longer would be to ruin my favorable impression of the retreat. Also, the colleague who had ridden up with me wanted to go home to attend to some family things. Sometimes I feel bad about my negative attitude about these things, and I'm having twinges of guilt about leaving early, especially since I don't have a particularly good excuse. Oh well. It's very good to be home, and to have an extra day so that I don't have to squeeze everything that needs to be done this week into quite as short a time.
One of the topics we discussed (or rather, were discussing as I arrived late on Monday morning), was organization. There was a time when I considered organization to be one of my big weaknesses. Then pastoral ministry hit, and I had to get my act together. Thanks to a gift Franklin Covey planner and a system called 43 Folders, it seems that I've become a fairly organized person. Of course, if I don't have my planner in hand, I have no idea what's going on. But the point is, I almost always have the planner, and therefore I don't have to remember things; they all go into the planner, where they can conveniently let me know what's going on. This has significantly reduced the stress in my life. I'm a big fan of organizational tools these days. Next on my life-improvement list is keeping better track of project details, and planning further in advance. It seems like I'm forever forgetting some detail in an event, or scrambling at the last minute to get out the appropriate publicity.
Speaking of improving, one of the other topics we discussed was professional standards and best practices. I hadn't really thought about this before I started the new job, but it's one of the senior pastor's pet subjects, and I see a lot of sense in it. It would have been really helpful when I was starting in my first parish to have a list of standards for visitation, following up with visitors, etc. It's way too easy to rationalize why we're too busy to visit that day, or that week, or ever. I have mixed feelings about home visitation, because something in me screams that inviting myself into someone's home is just unbelievably rude. But even if that's true, I wonder now if I did enough to make up that gap and offer opportunities to talk to me one on one in my last congregation. Being on a staff with multiple ministers is easier in so many ways, but it's pushing me to be more proactive about the areas of ministry that are my responsibility to cover. So, I'm working on developing clear objectives and measurable goals for each of the areas of my ministry. It's helpful, and hard.
My dog has somehow managed to be wearing a blanket over her back, and is prancing through the apartment as if she is royally robed. I'm going to go now, and make sure she's not staging a coup.
One of the topics we discussed (or rather, were discussing as I arrived late on Monday morning), was organization. There was a time when I considered organization to be one of my big weaknesses. Then pastoral ministry hit, and I had to get my act together. Thanks to a gift Franklin Covey planner and a system called 43 Folders, it seems that I've become a fairly organized person. Of course, if I don't have my planner in hand, I have no idea what's going on. But the point is, I almost always have the planner, and therefore I don't have to remember things; they all go into the planner, where they can conveniently let me know what's going on. This has significantly reduced the stress in my life. I'm a big fan of organizational tools these days. Next on my life-improvement list is keeping better track of project details, and planning further in advance. It seems like I'm forever forgetting some detail in an event, or scrambling at the last minute to get out the appropriate publicity.
Speaking of improving, one of the other topics we discussed was professional standards and best practices. I hadn't really thought about this before I started the new job, but it's one of the senior pastor's pet subjects, and I see a lot of sense in it. It would have been really helpful when I was starting in my first parish to have a list of standards for visitation, following up with visitors, etc. It's way too easy to rationalize why we're too busy to visit that day, or that week, or ever. I have mixed feelings about home visitation, because something in me screams that inviting myself into someone's home is just unbelievably rude. But even if that's true, I wonder now if I did enough to make up that gap and offer opportunities to talk to me one on one in my last congregation. Being on a staff with multiple ministers is easier in so many ways, but it's pushing me to be more proactive about the areas of ministry that are my responsibility to cover. So, I'm working on developing clear objectives and measurable goals for each of the areas of my ministry. It's helpful, and hard.
My dog has somehow managed to be wearing a blanket over her back, and is prancing through the apartment as if she is royally robed. I'm going to go now, and make sure she's not staging a coup.
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