Monday, February 27, 2012

Do You Feel Different Yet?

Many of my friends, colleagues, and parishioners have asked if I feel different, now that I am ordained. For the most part, my answer has been something along the lines of, "I'm growing into it," or "I'm beginning to." Of course, I realize that there is an ontological change that takes place at ordination. Our Roman friends call this an "indelible mark on the soul," which sounds really intriguing to me. But for the most part, I don't feel as though I've been "zapped" with new powers... Perhaps that will come in time!

What has changed, however, is my wardrobe. I wear the collar when I am participating in the liturgy, when I'm visiting those in the hospital, and when I'm representing the Church in some official capacity. Wearing the collar is a bizarre thing. It's not terribly uncomfortable for me. Honestly, it feels like a necktie. But I have paid close attention to how others look at me when I'm wearing it. I've noticed everything from revulsion to reverence, and everything in between--literally!

The first time I wore it in public was the day of my ordination. I was ordained on a Sunday evening and my brother and I had gone to church that morning. That afternoon, we went to his dorm room to change and to get ready for the afternoon rehearsal before the evening liturgy. I went in wearing a shirt and tie and came out wearing a black suit and clerical collar. I must mention that he lives on the twenty-first floor of a high-rise dormitory on the campus of the University of Kentucky. After we changed, we called for the elevator and it arrived, filled with students who were chattering about what a crazy night they had the evening before and how much they had drank and who they had woken up with that morning... And then I stepped onto the elevator and all of them looked at me at once, and immediately fell silent and bowed their heads, as if to inspect their shoes for the twenty-floor ride to the lobby.

On the opposite end of the reactionary spectrum, I was visiting a parishioner in the hospital a few weeks ago--wearing the collar, of course--and I stepped onto another elevator. This time, there was only one other person on the elevator and he was standing in the corner with his head bowed. I pressed the button indicating the floor and the doors closed. He looked up at me, examined me for a second, and then asked me to pray with him. We did. It was a holy moment, to say the least. One that I may not have had without the public symbol of the collar.

Although the collar does not possess any power in and of itself, it does allow people to perceive many things about who and what I am. I hope that people perceive my wearing the collar as an outward and visible sign that I am available to anyone for prayer, conversation, or for help--as best I can. But I'm not naive. As a friend reminded me, "Collars are wonderful tools for ministry, but beware! People love to project home movies on them!" In other words, the collar is also laden with individual webs of meaning for different folks. I am conscious of that, I think. And I do feel some of that when I wear it in public, but more often than not, most people don't really seem to care... Which is perfectly fine with me!  

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

The Place Where We Are Right: A Lenten Reflection

The Place Where We Are Right

By: Yehuda Amichai

From the place where we are right
Flowers will never grow
In the spring.

The place where we are right
Is hard and trampled
Like a yard.

But doubts and loves
Dig up the world
Like a mole, a plow.
And a whisper will be heard in the place
Where the ruined
House once stood. [1]


For Christians around the world, Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of Lent. It is a time of self-examination, repentance, fasting, and self denial that leads to the most solemn week of the Christian year: Holy Week.

It is customary for the ashes that are imposed on the foreheads of the faithful on Ash Wednesday to be taken from the previous year's palm branches from Palm Sunday. The palm branches are a symbol of triumph, but they are also marred with the reality that the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem ended with his horrific torture, persecution, and death. The people who waved the palm branches high in the air, shouting "Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!" at the beginning of the week are the same people who, just a few days later will seal Jesus' fate by shouting, "Crucify him! Crucify him!" There is never a second of doubt or uncertainty in either instance. The crowds make their thoughts known with blinding certainty.

The ashes that are smeared across our foreheads are physical markers of our own frailty, our capriciousness, and our fickleness of heart that drive us to be "right" and "absolute" in all that we do.

But if we will allow it, the ashes can do more than just remind us of what we already know, but desperately try to ignore.

Perhaps these ashes can mark for us a holy Lent if we allow them to sear into our hearts, freeing us from our desperate desire for "rightness" and "certainty" and emblazoning us instead with the desire to risk and to love.

It is in the risking of love that we are met with uncertainty. Loss, hope, pain, bliss... And it is in the risking of love that we make way for the possibility of encountering Christ anew, as the faint whispers of "Alleluia! Alleluia!" grow louder in the distance!

[1] The Selected Poetry of Yehuda Amichai, Trans. by Chana Bloch & Stephen Mitchell, (New York: Harper & Row, 1986), 34.

I am grateful to The Very Reverend Dr. Jane Shaw, Dean of Grace Cathedral, San Francisco, for introducing me to Yehuda Amichai some years ago and for bringing Lent to life for us in a new and transformative way.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Sixth Sunday After the Epiphany, Year B

Sunday, 12 February 2012: Holy Eucharist
Sixth Sunday After the Epiphany, Year B
2 Kings 5:1-14, Mark 1:40-45
The Episcopal Church of the Epiphany

O God be merciful to us and bless us. Show us the light of your countenance and come to us. Amen.

As many of you know, Tuesday is Valentine’s Day. For those of you who forgot, there’s still time for reservations and chocolates!

Over the past several days, my wife Shayanna and I have been scouring our recipe books for the perfect new dish to try out on Valentine’s Day. But while Shayanna has been focused on making grocery lists and checking to make sure we have all of the ingredients, I’ve been trying to avoid focusing on this week’s lectionary theme.

I want to be thinking about the wonderful wine and delicious food, but after reading our lessons from 2 Kings and from Mark, all I can seem to think about is leprosy!

Here we are spending time in the Hallmark section, fretting over which overpriced box of chocolates to buy, and we come to church today to read about an assortment of people who are suffering from repulsive skin diseases.

I wonder how many Hallmark cards can top that?

2 Kings recalls the story of Naaman, a stubborn man who petitions the king to be healed from leprosy. When Elisha intercedes on his behalf, commanding him to wash in the river Jordan seven times, Naaman is aghast that he could be restored to wholeness so easily! He snorted at Elisha’s command saying, “I thought that for me [you] would surely come out, and stand and call on the name of the Lord [your] God, and wave [your] hand over the spot, and cure the leprosy!”[1]

But Elisha insisted, again telling Naaman to go and wash in the river Jordan seven times. It takes several of Naaman’s servants to convince him to give Elisha’s commandment a try. Eventually, he washes in the Jordan and his skin becomes clean.

We hear remnants of Naaman’s story in our Gospel lesson for today. A man with leprosy approaches Jesus and says to him, “If you choose, you can make me clean.”

But what Jesus says next is particularly interesting. The NRSV translates Jesus’ reaction to the man as Jesus being “moved with pity.” But the better and more troubling translation is, “moved with anger.”[2]

Jesus takes his hand and places it on the man and says to him, “I do choose! Be made clean!” Instantly the man is healed and so overwhelmed with joy and wonder that he is unable to abide by Jesus’ request that he tell no one what has happened. He shouts the good news at the top of his lungs!

But what about this “anger” that Jesus felt? What caused him to be so incensed at the man’s request?

Could it be that Jesus was so busy that he really didn’t have time for this man’s problems?

Could it be that Jesus knew that the man would not be able to keep silent and that healing him would get Jesus into trouble?

Could it be that Jesus knew that by touching the man, he was taking a great risk, not only becoming ritually unclean, but also taking a chance with his own health?

Or could it be that Jesus was so profoundly and viscerally moved by the man that he turned his anger at the system that sought to keep this man out of the community into action?

Instead of sending the man away to his rightful place outside the city’s gates, Jesus reaches out and touches the man. In doing so, he ignores Levitical law and social acceptability. He overthrows generations of commonly held assumptions about people who have been rejected and cast out. He touches the man, instantly healing him from his leprosy.

In an act of mercy and grace, Jesus restores the man physically, socially, and religiously to the community.

After reading these five short and seemingly straightforward verses, it might be easy for us to conclude that the moral of the story is that “Jesus cares for the marginalized and so we should, too.”

But there’s more to it than that…

The Gospel of Mark is, as you know, the shortest of the four canonical gospels. It has no birth story and, except for a later addition, no resurrection story. Mark is the “just the facts, Ma’am” version of the Gospels.

But Mark’s gospel is among the most powerful texts in the New Testament in conveying the fact that in the person of Jesus Christ, we see the Kingdom of God breaking through into our world, shattering old precepts and customs and rituals.

In fact, Mark’s Gospel is the root of the Gospels of Matthew, Luke, and much of John. Mark isn’t terribly concerned with fastidious details about Jesus.

Mark is concerned with the doing.

We are only 45 verses into the first chapter of Mark and already, Jesus is baptized and has healed three different times. Two Sundays ago, we read about Jesus healing the man with the unclean spirit.[3] Last Sunday, we read about Jesus healing several people at Simon’s house.[4] And today, we read about Jesus healing the leper.

From the beginning, Mark wants to convince us that Jesus’ ministry is inextricably bound up in caring for and healing others—especially those who have found themselves on the margins.

And that is exactly what’s going on in today’s Gospel reading from Mark.

As Jesus lays his hands upon the leprosy-stricken man, at once healing him and drawing him into the community, we can begin to see the Kingdom of God, breaking through the old values and customs that bind us to a world of hopelessness and brokenness.

This suffering and marginalized man is the embodiment of all who are suffering because of a wounded heart or mind or body. Resting on his shoulders is the weight of the community that excluded him, seeking to keep him from the healing mercy of God’s love.

When Jesus touches the man’s flesh and when the man’s ears hear the voice of the Son of God saying, “I do choose, be made clean,” our earthly values and beliefs are shattered by a loving God who does not compromise with the hopelessness and brokenness of this world.

I suspect that while very few of us have ever encountered someone with leprosy, all of us have encountered those who are marginalized and excluded from society.

When Shayanna and I moved to Atlanta, it didn’t take long for us to be confronted with the painful reality of exclusion and marginalization that manifests itself in those suffering from homelessness.

Shayanna worked at two centers that assisted people suffering from homelessness during our first year in seminary. And last summer, I worked at Emory Hospital as a chaplain, serving many people who were simultaneously suffering from illness and homelessness.

The marginalization and exclusion that comes with homelessness is painfully and publicly evident here.

But what about the hopelessness, brokenness, and marginalization that exists just under the surface of our awareness?

What about those in our midst who are victims of spousal abuse? What about the children on our playgrounds who are bullied because of misconstrued notions about the mysteries of sexuality? What about those who are struggling with depression? What about those who have nobody to love and care for them?

Some of us gathered here might be asking ourselves, what about me? What about my own struggles with hopelessness, brokenness, and marginalization?

Where can I find healing and love? Where is this Kingdom of God that seems so far off, so removed, so mythical?

Look around. The Kingdom of God is in you!

We are called to be Christ for each other, and we must pray for the grace to let others be Christ for us!

Whether it happens at the edge of the Kroger parking lot or at the edge of the pew, we are constantly given opportunities to uplift one another, to speak a word of encouragement and hope, to build a relationship that mends broken hearts and spirits, to be the figure of Christ in the midst of a world that condemns the hope of peace and reconciliation at every possible turn.

It is in these liminal spaces that we find God, seeking us, healing us, and choosing us over and over again.

It is no accident that the Gospel of Mark begins with the baptism of Jesus and proceeds immediately to his reconciling and healing work in the world. We, too, must realize that as Christians, our baptism calls us to break down all barriers—whether they are economic, social, political, religious, or something else—between human need and God’s liberating mercy.[5]

The Kingdom of God is not out there, waiting for us to stumble upon it; it is in here, waiting, hoping, and depending on us to share it with others.

It is in the waters of baptism. It is in the Holy Eucharist. It is in the prayers. It is in the laughter. It is in the tears. It is in the choices.

It is in you.

Amen.
[1] 2 Kings 5:11b
[2] σπλανχνιζομαι (splanchnizomai) is probably more accurately translated as “being inwardly moved with emotion or anger.”
[3] Mark 1:21-28.
[4] Mark 1:29-34.
[5] Brian K. Blount & Charles, Gary W., Preaching Mark in Two Voices (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2003), 102.

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Reposted: "Divine Debate: Stuffy Academics versus Holy Rollers"

Dear friends,

The following article was written by April L. Bogle and published in the Winter 2012 edition of Emory Magazine. It discusses the importance of education among those in ministry. Click here for a link to the actual article.

Enjoy!


"Beware of the person of one book." —Thomas Aquinas

Most Christians wouldn’t choose to turn to Thomas Aquinas’s “person of one book” to answer the profound questions of the human condition. Rather, they seek clergy who are educated and thoughtful “to help us wade through suffering and come out the other side with a sense of wholeness,” says Jan Love, dean of Candler School of Theology.

Yet as membership in mainline Protestant churches continues its downward spiral ― pulling along with it funds to pay full-time, fully educated pastors ― a debate is waging in Christian circles about the necessity of a theological education as a condition for ordination into ministry. The majority of mainline Protestant churches require pastors to obtain a master of divinity (MDiv) degree, but some argue that a person whom God has endowed with exceptional gifts of ministry can be effective without going to seminary.

So why require it, especially in these lean times?

Candler faculty and alumni offer ready opinions in what Love calls “this age-old debate of ‘stuffy academics versus holy rollers.’ ”

“Are there some educated clergy who lack empathy? Yes, but they do less harm than people who have all the empathy in the world and are ignoramuses,” says Luke Timothy Johnson, a renowned New Testament scholar. “The scandal in the church today is not of too much intelligence but of too little.”

Do No Harm

Like medicine and law, the field of theology carries a weighty ethical code of conduct where the meddling of an amateur can have serious consequences.

“Do you want an untrained surgeon replacing your heart valves?” asks Thomas G. Long, Bandy Professor of Preaching, who has been named one of the twelve most effective preachers in the English-speaking world. “Pastors operate on people’s vision, helping create their religious imagination, which makes for a rich and good life. If that is poorly constructed, life can be tragic.”

Bishop Mike Watson 74T, bishop of the North Georgia Conference of the United Methodist Church (UMC), says there are no guarantees that going to seminary will make a person a good pastor, “but you wouldn’t want a lawyer representing you who hadn’t been to law school.”

While no student can master all of the content and the complex issues presented in seminary, each is given the tools to be an honest teacher of scripture and to use them ethically—“as a gift, not as a weapon,” says Carol A. Newsom, Charles Howard Candler Professor of Old Testament, who is respected around the world for her translation of the Dead Sea Scrolls.

‘Liberal Arts’ for Ministry

As one of thirteen seminaries of the UMC, Candler’s mission is to educate faithful and creative leaders for the church’s ministries in the world. More than half of Candler’s students are United Methodist, but those seeking ordination in other Christian denominations also are welcome in Candler’s ecumenical culture.

Regardless of denomination, students seeking to become ministers pursue a set of courses and experiences that are designed to help them become grounded in the Christian tradition and discern their vocation for ministry—an arduous journey that ultimately teaches them to think theologically and become authentic, ethical spokespersons for their faith.

To fully understand Christianity, MDiv students follow a curriculum that includes in-depth study of biblical texts and courses in preaching. There also are two course requirements distinctive to Candler—one in another religion to help students gain an understanding of religious pluralism, and one on race, ethnicity, or gender to make sure they understand how concepts of “otherness” affect faith.

In addition, MDivs spend two of their three years at Candler engaging in contextual education, or Con Ed. Unlike typical field education where students visit and practice, Con Ed is total immersion for one year in social service settings and one year in church settings ― a rigor not required by most other seminaries. The Con Ed curriculum includes time for student reflection and discussion with other students, faculty, and mentors on the experiences they are encountering in the real world.

Reverend Kim Ingram 92T says her Con Ed experience, which included a church, a hospital, and a public housing community, was one of the hardest—but most important—things she did in preparation for ministry. “I worked among the poorest people in Atlanta, and to be able to reflect on that in collegial relation to other students, a site supervisor, and a seminary professor was a formative experience. You can’t get that on your own when you begin working in a congregation or through your personal encounter with prayer,” says Ingram, director of ministerial services for the Western North Carolina Conference of the UMC.

David L. Petersen, Candler’s associate dean of faculty and academic affairs and Franklin N. Parker Professor of Old Testament, says the MDiv curriculum has four goals. “First, students belong to the two-millennium-long Christian tradition and represent it faithfully; second, they have the understanding to internalize it and do the in-depth exploration of the canonical resources and deal with pivotal thinkers such as St. Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, John Wesley, and Martin Luther King, Jr.; three, they have the ability to reflect on the Christian position on huge issues like war and poverty; and four, they find their authoritative voice within the tradition,” he explains.

Discerning vocation has no set curriculum and can be even more challenging. “Many people come to Candler because they feel ‘called’ to ministry,” Petersen explains. “But what does that mean? They must pursue the answer in dialogue with other people and in serious reflection, where they are forced to begin to sharpen a sense of vocation. You can’t short-circuit this process.”

Reverend Ellen Echols Purdum 81C 01T, Candler’s director of student life and spiritual formation, serves as the “connective tissue” between students’ vocational aspirations and the resources where they might begin to explore them—from worship planning to social concern groups to international study.

She also counsels them through the tough times. “We try to instill the ancient practice of prayer, work, and rest that gets them through the day; share ideas on how to keep their minds and bodies healthy; and help them establish a rhythm of life that keeps them to connected to God, other people, the earth, and themselves,” says Purdum, an ordained Episcopal priest in the Diocese of Atlanta. “When they come into my office weeping because they are so overwhelmed, I ask them to pull out their calendar so we can sort it all out.”

Not ‘Either/Or’ but ‘Both/And’

The debate about the superiority of a seminary-trained pastor isn’t new in mainline Protestant churches, with evangelical churches having the greatest ambivalence about educating their clergy, according to Love.

“Evangelicals are deeply dedicated to understanding the gifts of the Holy Spirit. They believe God has endowed particular people with exceptional gifts for ministry and that these individuals should be recognized,” says Love.

But today the tension is focused on the decline in mainline Protestant churches—membership has decreased by some six million members since 1965, and is now down to about 18 percent of the US population—and how to reverse the trend.

“Churches now are interested in ways they weren’t twenty years ago in what makes good church leadership to sustain and grow the church,” says Love.

Are purely pious preachers the answer to filling the pews? It’s not an “either/or” solution. Rather, it’s the “both/and” of the Wesleyan tradition: knowledge and vital piety, say Candler’s experts.

“You have to have a combination of education and worship experiences. Just being a praying pastor doesn’t help you think through spiritual ideas or faith formation,” says Ingram.

Love agrees. “There’s a commandment that Jesus offers us in the Gospel of Mark that instructs us to love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. Loving God with your mind is just as important as with your heart, soul, and strength. God wants us to question things.”

An obvious example, says Love, is politicians who manipulate voters by distorting verses of scripture. “Too often religious organizations ask us to leave our minds at the door: mindless worship, mindless recitation of favorite verses in the face of hardship, mindless ethical engagement that actually could do harm. This is a betrayal of Jesus’ commandment and often leads to violence, abuse, discrimination and oppression of all kinds.”

Petersen adds that if these “misinterpreters of the biblical witness are shepherding a flock, then they have an ill-fed flock full of junk food.”

Learning How to Question

Seminaries like Candler, which purport to more about education than indoctrination and are university-based rather than stand-alone, have been accused of making students “lose their Jesus.” Alumni debunk the myth, saying learning how to question your own beliefs is a necessary part of the formation process.

“You go to seminary for the helpful questioning of your faith so you can grow into a more faithful and fruitful life. It’s part of growing in grace, of being alive, of becoming humble,” says Reverend John Simmons 96T, former senior pastor of Glenn Memorial Church, who now serves as director of ministry for the UMC’s North Georgia Conference.

Ingram says her Candler experience “was eye-opening to just about everything,” from biblical narrative to an understanding of Hinduism to ethics and the civil rights movement. “I’ve said repeatedly that everyone should go to seminary. It opens your mind about how to relate to other people, to other religions. At Candler, you come out knowing why you believe what you believe, or you believe something different.”

Watson says he chose Candler for its openness of ideas and the warmth of its spiritual dimension. “I wanted to be open to all thought and to be exposed to different approaches to theology and ministry. I came to Candler because it was unafraid to explore and it eliminated a lot of my fear. It taught me that I didn’t have to be afraid of other ideas,” he said.

The eye-opening “deconstruction” process starts in the classroom under the careful guidance of faculty like Newsom, Johnson, and Long.

Newsom, who teaches the Old Testament, begins simply by introducing students to the text. “I ask them to read the book of Daniel as though they had never read it before—and then the giggling begins and I realize most of them have never read it at all. Although they know it’s important, they literally don’t know how to get into the material.”

Her approach? “I see teaching as matchmaking. If students have a certain passion and don’t know where to look, I match them with the biblical text I think they will love or have a lover’s quarrel with, and then develop a deeper relationship with—this way they learn the depth and profundity of scripture that is the foundation of the church.”

Johnson’s teaching of the New Testament’s book of Revelation is “mind-boggling but liberating,” he says.

“Most students have heard just one approach. I talk to them about how the different ways of reading Revelation divides the church today, the consequences and issues. And then I tell them a more appropriate reading is that it should serve as a prophetic witness pertinent to every age, and this liberates them from readings that represent dead ends.”

If students don’t go through this process, they aren’t learning. “If we don’t engage the difficult texts with high intelligence, then students either repeat the distortions they grew up with or they ignore them and cherry-pick scripture they enjoy—which is a profound sort of corruption,” says Johnson.

The risk, he says, is that they become “easy prey to cultural co-optation” and the church “ceases to be counter-culture.”

All of Candler’s classroom and Con Ed lessons come together in creating and delivering a powerful sermon, another critical component of Candler’s pedagogy, and one that offers students preaching-teacher stars like Tom Long and Teresa Fry Brown, along with the legacy of “preaching genius” Fred Craddock.

“Praying pastors with a ‘pure heart and clear faith’ can get up and speak, but not week after week,” says Long. “They must know where their congregation is in their understanding and interpretation of scripture and this is a very complicated skill we help students learn.”

What happens, then, if a person decides to skip seminary and go straight to the pulpit?

“They miss out on the tools, relationships, and experiences they need to have a deep and fully satisfying vocation in ministry,” says Newsom. “I can’t stress enough the importance of the communal experience, of gaining the wisdom that comes from studying with other students. Try as they will and devoted as they can be, no one can form themselves in the vocation of the pastor. You must always rely on others, and seminary is structured to make that happen in the richest possible fashion.”