More Soul Food

She had honey blond hair swept into a beehive hairdo and shellacked into submission with Aqua Net.  I knew her only as Punkin (hillbilly for “Pumpkin,” short for “punkin pie”).  She was glamour personified, grace in jar, and everything I wanted to be when I grew up.  Her ready smile and an open heart drew me in. It would be easy to mistake her cheerful disposition as the mark of an easy life.

“Things don’t matter,” she told me, “people matter.”  “Everything you own can be replaced, but people can’t be. When I was a newlywed my apartment building caught fire, and the only thing I made it out with was my daughter; I was pregnant with her at the time.  I lost everything, including my husband.  And I’ve been able to replace everything except him.  He’s the only thing I miss.  I do wish I had some pictures of him, but there’s nothing else I lost that really mattered.”

She didn’t shed a tear or look self-pitying.  She was sharing the wisdom she salvaged from the wreckage.  Her easy smile and warm demeanor were a result of knowing what really matters: the people you let into your heart, and the moments of connection we share. 

It would be easy, based on yesterday’s blog, to mistakenly assume I meant something along the lines of “God makes the darkness happen so we can see the light” or some such. First, let me be clear, I am not suggesting that God (or the mind of the Universe, or the Spirit of Life or whatever name you want to give it) is the architect of our suffering.  Sometimes shit just happens.  I am, however, suggesting that God redeems our suffering by helping us to rise again into the light. That arising—or resurrection, if you will—makes beauty out of what would otherwise be senseless tragedy.

 Had Punkin wallowed in self pity no one would have blamed her, but she would have added nothing to the richness of the world.  Punkin wasn’t being punished by losing her beloved in a fire; nor was she being taught a lesson.  But by learning a lesson anyway value was restored to the world.  She didn’t suffer those losses so that she could add beauty to my life by sharing her wisdom, and her husband surely didn’t die for my benefit.  But I know the story of his untimely death and the relative unimportance of worldly possessions has helped me to live a more meaningful life.

God does not cause the falling down, but the rising up. And in our willingness to rise again each time we fall, we participate in the holy.  We make it more likely others will also find a way back to wholeness even when they feel broken beyond repair. 

I leave you with this quote from St. Julian’s Showings (Long Text) (more on her later in the semester.  You can count on it!):

“Grace transforms our dreadful failing into plentiful and endless solace; and grace transforms our shameful falling into high and honourable rising; and grace transforms our sorrowful dying into holy, blessed life.” 

In peace,

Shelley

Soul Food

Being a seminarian of modest means, typically I forgo the finer things in life.  But last night they came to me right here on this beautiful campus I am so fortunate as to call home.  There are two art exhibits on campus, and two artist’s receptions were held last night replete with the requisite wine and cheese.  Since I seldom get gourmet cheese or any kind of wine these days, naturally I attended both.  Brie has never tasted so good.  And don’t even get me started on the chevre!

While both artists are gifted, I was most enraptured by the work of Dr. Tom Duff.  A surgeon by training, Tom has spent his leisure time producing a substantial body of work depicting images from Dante’s Divine Comedy.  I’d tried to read Dante on my own at nineteen, made it through two of the three volumes, and quit during Paradiso because it seemed to me Dante had an axe to grind which for some reason turned me off.  Tom was there to talk about his work, as was a leading Dante scholar from Yale Divinity School, Professor Peter Hawkins.  The evening was far richer than I’d anticipated.

Tom drew Satan as described by Dante.  The notation beside the piece called attention to a tidbit I’d overlooked in my reading: not only was Satan devouring sinners, but he was crying the whole while.  Satan suffers an inner hunger that cannot be satisfied under any circumstances because he is utterly separated from grace.  It reminded me of the “hungry ghosts” that Thich Nhat Hanh describes—people who are starving for soul food but their necks are so narrow they’re unable to swallow it.  It occurred to me that almost anything I could call “sin” is most likely caused by that insatiable hunger, that pain and fear resulting from a profound sense of disconnection. 

What I hadn’t known before last night was that Dante placed the story in the year 1300, when he had been at the pinnacle of his worldly success and power.  Just a few short years later he was exiled and all of his worldly possessions seized, during which time he conceived of his Divine Comedy.  Hence the axe to grind.  Tom’s opening piece was a depiction of these words from the opening of Inferno: “Midway upon the road of our life I found myself within a dark wood, for the clear path had been lost.” In his fictional journey Dante had to dive down into the pits of Hell in order to come out the other side, but he does indeed come out the other side.  Dante says “upon the road of our life” because he knows his is a universal story.  While we don’t all suffer the same devastating losses and betrayals endured by Dante, we do all suffer and from time to time feel as though we have lost our way.

But here’s the really beautiful part.  Dante’s Heaven is an indescribably pure white rose.  Tom painted this rose with lavender tones, and Peter asked, “why lavender?”  Tom said “I needed the contrast. If I’d painted the pure white rose Dante described, it would be a blank canvass.  You wouldn’t be able to see it.”  Tom’s depiction of the rose was beyond beautiful, maybe what the Universe would look like if you could step outside of it.  A blank white canvass couldn’t move the soul nearly that well.  And maybe that’s the thing about heaven, and about life.  We need the dark bits to frame the beauty of the light bits.  Without them, we couldn’t even see heaven because there would be no contrast…just a blank white canvass.

Entertaining Angels Unawares

Thank you for going running with me this morning.  I bet you didn’t even know you were there!  But as I did my morning run around Crystal Lake you were with me every step of the way.  Knowing I would check in with you tonight, whoever you are wherever you are, I felt I was in good company.  I know my personal struggles are not unique to me, and in fact I’m hoping some of you can see yourselves in my writing.  In the middle of the last millennium Rumi wrote “All day I think about it, and at night I say it: Who am I and what am I and what am I supposed to be doing?”  My sense is that everyone wonders about the purpose of his or her life—or the purpose of life itself—from time to time.  For me that question comes up several times an hour, but I happen to have an extreme case of “human.”

Dr. Burrows, my Intro to Christian History professor told us about the semester he tried to teach history in reverse chronological order, so I today took you with me on my usual morning run, but this time we went clockwise, whereas I’ve been going counterclockwise thus far.  All of the landmarks look different in reverse.  I time my runs and I always want to beat yesterday’s time but rarely do. As I’m running, I measure where I am with where I think I’m supposed to be.  I do this in the rest of my life as well.  This means I’m human.  We all do this, at least from time to time.  We congratulate ourselves if we think we’re ahead, we berate ourselves, excuse ourselves or redouble our efforts if we think we’re behind. 

Most drivers completely ignore me standing on the side of the road in the crosswalk—sometimes they ignore me when I’m in the middle of the crosswalk.  But this morning I was extremely grateful, because some guy let me cross the very minute I approached the crosswalk—and that had to shave at least a minute off my time!  It occurred to me that it’s kind of like this in life too.  Sometimes we get delayed or taken completely off track because of life circumstances.  No use beating ourselves up over it.

  Because I was running, I couldn’t help but reflect on Paul’s writings in 1 Corinthians when he advises the Corinthians to be like athletes, who put everything they have into reaching their goal and do not let physical discomfort get in their way.  That had a special meaning to me, since over the past 18 months I have for the first time in my life explored my own athleticism.  Oh, I’ve exercised before.  But about a year and a half ago I found a gym partner whose life is devoted to athletics.  She pushed me well beyond my comfort zone, and into sheer exhaustion.  I still managed to walk out of the gym, and became stronger than ever as a result.  So I know the focus and determination Paul is talking about, at least a little bit. 

Memories of my first 5K were awakened by my reflection on Paul’s words.  My son Connor ran with me, and when I hit the point where I wanted to quit he kept me moving forward.  We crossed the finish line side by side, I with tears of joy.  Since that memory inspires me and gives me strength,  Connor is with me now--cheering me on and telling me I can do what I don’t think I can do.

Suddenly the presence of every soul with whom I’ve ever connected—including you, dear reader—was made tangible, giving me genuine respite from the loneliness I’ve been feeling for weeks.  I read your comments, I feel your love and your support, and I am filled with gratitude at your kindness.  Thank you for going running with me this morning.  Thank you for sharing in and supporting my journey through seminary school.  I am in the company of angels!

Namaste~

Shelley

Who Gives a Shit What Glenn Beck Has To Say?

The Bible is in trouble.  While it contains Great Truths, it is factually wrong in so many instances that a significant portion of the population doesn’t trust the Truths, either.  Then there are others who maintain that the Bible can only be read as the inerrant word of God.  Clearly this position is indefensible without resorting to magical thinking about the fossil record—or even about the Bible itself.   The fact is—and I have it straight from a leading biblical scholar, Dr. Carole Fontaine—how the Bible is read says as much about the reader as it does about the Bible.

Dr. Fontaine told a funny story yesterday, which was the first day of Intro to Hebrew Bible.  She’s a cancer survivor, and she said while she was undergoing chemo she not only renewed her Christian faith by studying Jesus.  Every day she spent at the chemo center, Glenn Beck was on TV spouting off his version of Gospel.  Finally she’d had enough of it, and said to the staff:

“Isn’t it bad enough we have cancer?  Do we have to listen to Glenn Beck, too?”

Turns out, the patient who really wanted to listen to Glenn Beck had long since finished chemo, but no one bothered to turn the channel.

Glenn Beck and others like him do use the Bible to batter others, but we can't hold the Bible responsible for their narrow interpretation.  We on the left can use the Bible to boost people up by offering our own broader interpretation.  But we’ll need to study it in order to do so.  Even a quick look at the facts calls into question the allegation that the Bible is the inerrant word of God.  First of all, there isn’t only one Bible!  There are different Canons adopted by different churches based on which of the many texts circulating in antiquity should be included, there are different translations of each Canon, and the Christian New Testament was written in Greek, which wasn’t the language Jesus spoke.  Quite possibly a lot has been lost in translation.

Glen Beck’s support of the Bible has done much to discredit the book in many respects.  People are outraged by the narrow interpretation he spouts and hatred he engenders by the spouting.  But so what if Glenn Beck believes some people are outsiders in the land of God?  Dr. Fontaine said you can win any argument over Hebrew Scripture by saying “What about Job?” and any argument about Christian Scripture by saying “Have you read the Sermon on the Mount?”

I have read both but remember neither.  As luck with have it Dr. Burrows, my History of Christianity professor, assigned some other relevant selections.  In Matt. 15:21-28 Jesus learns that there are no outsiders, a point he repeats elsewhere in the Gospels.  And yes, I said that right.  He learns this.  Peter said, in Acts 10:34 that God shows no particularity toward insiders and outsiders as construed by humans.  Paul said, in Galations 5:6 the only thing that counts is faith working through love; and in Gal. 5:14 “For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.;”

There is no escape clause.  We are called to love one another. Period.

And as I mull over the press coverage Glenn Beck gets light of what I learned on just the first day of seminary school this is my conclusion: Who gives a shit what Glenn Beck has to say? 

Of Visions and Vocation

Surprisingly, one of the hardest things about being in seminary is the plethora of genuinely lovely people who lead rousing, inspirational, moving and deep worship services.  There are so many people with rich life stories who have taken the opportunity to cultivate their wisdom, lovingkindness and authenticity—and proceed to blow you away with their amazing worship services.  I’m pretty sure none of them ever flipped anyone off in traffic, or dropped the F-bomb in a Sunday school classroom full of 13-year-olds.  I have.

I’m so distracted by their gifts that I can’t remember my own.  Furthermore, whatever talents I do have seem tiny and undeveloped compared to the talents of those around me.  When it was just my home congregation’s minister that was amazing, it was easier to imagine I could at least become adequate.  Now I can’t remember why I thought divinity school was a necessary step on my path to vocational discernment.  The intention is to identify my unique gifts, and apply those gifts in a way that the world most needs.  The temptation is to find the most brilliant minister here and copy.  Reminds me of a quote Parker Palmer shares in Letting Your Life Speak: When he was an old man, Rabbi Zusya said “In the coming world they will not ask me why I was not more like Moses.  They will ask me why I was not more like Zusya.”

Parker Palmer also said “Vocation at its deepest level is, ‘this is something I can’t not do, for reasons I’m unable to explain to anyone else and don’t fully understand myself but that are nonetheless compelling.’”  Before I got here, those unexplainable reasons were reason enough to move 2000 miles from my children, even if I couldn’t explain why.  Deep inside, despite the panic-inspired doubts, I still know it's the right decision. I’m right where I need to be, even if I can’t say why.

To ease my panic, I dropped my pastoral care class and picked up a social justice class.  That way, should this year of discernment lead me to conclude I am indeed not minister material, I can pursue the academic route and switch to the Master of Arts in Theological Research and all of my classes will still count toward that degree.  Just having that little bit of breathing room has shifted things already.  I’m still not confident that parish ministry is for me.  But I am confident that I can bring myself fully into this unique experience, allow it to shape me, and listen to hear whether or not the still small voice within me sings more clearly as a result.

You may have noticed that I’m struggling to reconcile Christian dogma with my own beliefs in universal salvation and the unity of God. The summer before I began medical school, following a period of deep contemplation of scripture, I had a series of visionary dreams where God told me that dogma is the fly in the honey of spiritual practice, and we’d serve God better by abandoning it.  Yet I am challenged to find spiritual community or commit myself to spiritual practice without the glue/fire/purpose/passion that dogma provides. To make matters worse, the dream called me to share this vision with other people in an effort to “mend our broken world,” and I can't quite articulate the vision let alone share it. 

After 22 years of wrestling with those dreams I think I have the answer at last: “Give up on all types of dogma: beliefs about God, humanity and Nature.  Instead, work for justice.”  Does this mean I can go home now?

What's so scary about a social justice ministry?

Why is it I feel such trepidation about becoming a minister? Or about doing religious work of any kind? I firmly believe that it is arrogant to pronounce someone damned, which wouldn’t be a part of my ministry anyway. But is it equally arrogant to pronounce someone loved, or forgiven or to in any way presume to know the mind of God? Do I slide into secular humanism when I work to build bridges between one faith and another? Or when I embrace the notion of universal salvation? Can I justify any of it? Do I need to?

Maybe it’s just as arrogant to say “God loves you” as it is to say “You’re going to hell for your beliefs.” But I’m willing to err on the side of love. If when I die I am condemned to eternal hellfire for believing that non-Christians also go to Heaven, or for trying to heal the divide between religions, this will be my defense:
I John 4:16: “God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them.” I did my best to abide in love, and to see the love in others.

Matthew 7:1-2 “Do not judge, so that you may not be judged. For with the judgment you make you will be judged, and the measure you give will be the measure you get.” I gave others the room to be wrong about God, and now I’m asking for the measure I gave.

Luke 17:20-21: “Once Jesus was asked by the Pharisees when the Kingdom of God was coming, and he answered “The Kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed, nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There it is.’ For in fact, the Kingdom of God is among you.” I have done my best to love this world as the Kingdom of Heaven, and to see others as angels, even when they're annoying. Please give me some allowance for following some part of Christian scripture, even if imperfectly.

For those of you UU’s who cringe at scripture, please understand: my interpretation of scripture isn’t merely a part of my Unitarian Universalist faith. It’s the source of it. For those of you who are more conservative Christians, inclined to site passages like John 14:6 “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” I can only respond with this:

Micah 6:8 “What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?”

The truth is, becoming clergy of any kind implies that a human is qualified to speak on behalf of The Ultimate.  That seems arrogant to me.  Nonetheless, I feel called to share the love that flows through me, and to acknowledge my belief that its origins are not mine, but rather divine.  Erring on the side of love is how I walk humbly with my God. Maybe it is as arrogant to speak of God’s love as it is God’s judgment, but if I have to err on one side or the other, I choose love.

Blessed be.

My New Life Begins...

Finally, I’m about to begin seminary school; my first class is in two days! Many of my friends have asked me to start a blog, so they can follow my journey from here on out. This is that blog.

Over the last two days I’ve been at orientation from dawn to dusk.  It opened Friday morning with a worship service led by Mary Luti that was as close to Evangelical Charismatic Unitarian Universalist worship as you’ll find on the Eastern Seaboard--truly inspirational! The focus at Andover Newton is on inclusive interfaith worship and sacred hospitality, concepts I understand far more deeply after just a weekend of orientation. No doubt I will grow, not only into a minister, but into a fuller and deeper human being, during my time here.

But here’s the thing…as certain as I was in May that the time for seminary training is now and the school is Andover Newton Theological School, as orientation progressed I became plagued with self doubt. Am I really up to the task?  How can I plan for the future when seminary school is so transformative that I don’t even know who I’ll be in the future? Luckily, seminarians love to discuss their inner conflicts so I know for a fact I’m not alone. Apparently self-doubt comes with the territory. Around here it’s called “discernment” but the process is so much more tumultuous than the word leads you to believe.

As if all the self doubt weren’t enough, orientation included a session on the dismal financial aspect of ministry. Short version: the average salary of a minister will not cover the cost of student loans needed to fund ministerial education. They discouraged us from taking out students loans, and suggested finding other resources. Even with my scholarship and new position as part time director of religious education at a nearby church, I have nearly ten thousand dollars per year of unmet financial need for necessities such as fees, food, clothing, transportation—not to mention books, books, books and more books! Grant seeking will take on the status of part-time employment as the year progresses! 

Over the course of this year the contents of this blog will include reflections on my experience of seminary, my experiences as a part-time DRE, and sometimes I’ll post a portion of my homework assignments and invite discussion. I would love to have your regular readership and your loving prayers of support. To that end I’ll try to keep the postings brief and interesting.  I will also include a PayPal link, so that anyone who is so moved may make a small  monetary gift to support my ministerial education (and hence, my future social justice ministry).  Apparently a past student did just such a thing and it was well received.  Since I was planning to start a blog anyway, I thought I'd give it a go.  If the link interferes with your willingness to read my block, please let me know, because I'm very open to removing it if it's deemed overly offensive.

Blessings, Love, and Light,

Shelley