Beneath the Treads

I am just finishing up the worst week I’ve had in at least a decade, probably more I think. Just spiritually and emotionally wrung out like a dirty dishrag. Actually a dirty dishrag probably is nicer than how I’ve felt all week. Two things have been the main players.

One is the question that I’ve been struggling with for many weeks now. Am I a priest or am I a deacon? I know this is serious but why does this continue to keep swirling around in my head? Prayer doesn’t seem to get me anywhere and thinking surely doesn’t. Right now I will say, like I did during my initial discernment (and my discernment team seemed to say the same thing) I can’t say emphatically no to the priesthood but I can say yes to the diaconate. What’s wrong with this? Some I’ve talked to just say it’s wrong and you need to be sure. Maybe.

Another issue is my psychological examination. What a trouble this has been to me! I read it with a growing sense of alarm, shame, and almost complete disbelief. I just was completely undone by what I read. Still am feeling just about done in by it. I went through it many times. I emailed and asked for revisions in some of the language (very damning in my opinion), which they changed immediately. I then went through the recommendation section point-by-point and added comments to rebuff what was written. The recommendation itself wasn’t really the issue. I felt it was over-stated but it did address an area of my life that needs some work. What I was upset about was the mess the psychologist had made of the reasons for his recommendation. I was just floored. I get it that psychology uses a language that I may not be used to but most of what I read was just off the mark. My faith story was more or less thrown aside for a very clinical and cynical edit. The thing that really struck me was that it was written with authority and absoluteness. I just feel helpless, knowing that this document will go to the Bishop.

The question now is what I need to do. I will admit that early on in the week I felt as if I should just cache it in at this point and forget the whole thing. I honestly don’t know what is keeping me from doing that. I wonder if shame isn’t keeping me from it more than anything right now. This is a very hard time. To top it off I just feel dried out spiritually. This is a carry over from the week before.

Last night I had a brief moment of awareness that the presence of the Holy was with me. It was a sweet sense of peace and stillness.

One thing that is just astounding is the ferociousness of this episode. It’s been oppressive. I can’t reason my way out and I can hardly pray. I’m just hanging on and going for the ride. I should be telling myself that I don’t need “validation” from this psychologist; that I find my validation in my self and in my faith. But I just can’t seem to tear myself away from the abjectness of it.

I did contact a number of people about this but heard scant little in return. I didn’t share details but generally told them how I felt after reading the assessment. I feel that they just melted away from me. It’s not easy to be near someone who is touching “death”... better to keep your distance. I know the feeling. I’m not complaining or accusing them of doing something wrong. This is natural. It points out to me the insidiousness of my experience though. One thing can demolish a credible reputation. I did contact the Missioner for Ministry and explained how I felt and asked if I could send along my version with my comments. She said that she would welcome that. 

Post Easter Wilderness?

Wow.

I am feeling completely out of sorts. When I get quiet it’s just quiet. When I pray I’m just saying words. When I read it just ends when I stop. Life is really thin right now... and it is easy to slip in thought, word, and deed.

There are definitely highs and lows in this life.

This is a time when I ought to be elated. I should be “feeling” the mountaintop. I should be floating in the Sabbath of God. Holy Week and then Easter. Celebrating Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday and then Easter. I just shriveled through the week. My head and heart are filled with cotton. It’s like I’m walking in a thick fog.

It’s so Strange.

Life goes on. I have a chapter to read, some writing to do, and I need to start working with my group as we begin to develop some theology on this question, “how can we help a middle school aged child who is being bullied know that God is present in his/her life.” Ought to be fun but it’s feeling strangely clinical and lifeless.

One bright spot maybe is that I’ve started thinking about my internship in a slightly different way. Maybe I’m getting some direction? I’m going to try to understand what’s going on in Owatonna (what’s the culture of this town? What are the obvious needs there? What are the not so obvious needs? How are the town politics? etc...). How is Saint Paul's responding to the needs there, how is Saint Paul’s coordinating with what is being done there, does Saint Paul's have a platform, a presence, and where does Saint Paul’s need to expend it's energy?

God help me.

Easter Eve

I learned something tonight. Well... I suppose I learned a number of things. I learned that it takes me 42 minutes to drive from Owatonna without stopping for coffee. I don’t even want to take time to calculate how much time I’ll be on the road during my Internship. It doesn’t matter.

I’m listening to audio books. I’ve listened to most of The Silmarillion and am just finishing up The Evolution of God by Robert Wright. Wright’s book is good. It has some really humorous lines in it. It’s a little hard to listen to. He dismantles the three “Abrahamic” faiths pretty soundly with the purpose I think of taking some of the uniqueness out of them. Listen, you’re all in the same boat; you’ve evolved from the same Neolithic roots; the God you worship is the same “God”. Because Jew, Christian, Moslem evolve from these same roots the end game can be peace. He also writes about science and “God” and uses some really fascinating arguments for the “trajectory” of the “Designer”, whether that “Designer” is God or Natural Selection. In any case, more on that later.

I was given the task of coordinating the Vigil Readings. Five readings with limited drama. People volunteered but we didn’t practice. It went well but not great. I think it made me self-conscious for the rest of the service. I wish we had had a chance to go through it at least once. Maybe I should have pushed harder to do this. Later, during Holy Eucharist the Priest and Deacon sort of signed that they wanted me to help as a chalice bearer. I was glad to do it but I felt out of sorts and stumbled around with the Deacon. The first person that came dipped her bread and I said “The blood of Christ.”... oops... forgot the last bit. I threw in a “The cup of heaven.” I got better. Well, I wasn’t the paragon of confidence that I should have been. 

Seven Last Words

I went to my first Service of The Seven Last Words of Christ at Saint Paul’s Episcopal Church in Owatonna, Minnesota. I don’t remember this service from when I was a kid growing up in the Episcopal Church in my hometown. My family didn’t attend the “extra” services. Having been back with the Episcopal Church for seven years I just find it strange that this is my first experience with this service. Really points out the variety in “TEC MN”.

Marc Chagall, The White Crucifixion

The service was very good. Rev. Michael does a great job. I particularly liked his reflection on “He said to his mother, "Woman, behold your son!" Then he said to the disciple, "Behold your mother!" (John 19:26-27). He talked about Mary at the “beginning” of Jesus' public ministry. They are at a wedding feast. The host runs out of wine. Mary says to Jesus, “They have no wine”. Jesus answers her, “Woman, what concern is that to you or to me? My hour has not yet come” Mary says to the servants standing there, “Do what ever he tells you.” And so Jesus turns water into wine and it begins. Three years later (more or less) he is being crucified. Mary watches from the foot of the cross. Rev. Michael made an observation about Mary and what she must have been thinking. She probably isn’t thinking about the salvation of the world, the coming Kingdom, the resurrection; she was watching her son die. So John took Mary to be his mother. They lived with each other and shared this memory.

There were only a small handful of people at this service. Some were there at the beginning and left at some point while others came in later and stayed till the end. The sun was shinning. It was a quiet and pleasant day. Michael did most of the service while we responded to a reading of the psalms or a prayer. It was quiet and somber as it should have been. I don’t know the history of this service. I wonder what cultural milieu it grew out of? Does it fit today? It’s an old fashioned service; quiet and cerebral.

To Be or not to Be

I’ve been wrestling with my call lately. I think this may be due to my Internship. I’m trying to figure out what I should be doing to help out around Saint Paul’s and, at the same time, trying to get some perspective on what I’m discerning to be my particular gifts and ministries, how my gifts fit in as an Intern at Saint Paul's, and what I’ll be doing after my ordination.

I've been struggling with fears that I might be on the wrong track. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I should be discerning for the priesthood instead of the diaconate? This hasn’t been an intense struggle; it's just been a question of doubt in the back of my mind. I don’t want to get this wrong.

I read the Examination of a postulant/candidate for the Diaconate from the Ordination Rite of the Book of Common Prayer.

My brother/sister, every Christian is called to follow Jesus Christ,

serving God the Father, through the power of the Holy Spirit.

God now calls you to a special ministry of servanthood

directly under your bishop. In the name of Jesus Christ, you

are to serve all people, particularly the poor, the weak, the

sick, and the lonely.

As a deacon in the Church, you are to study the Holy

Scriptures, to seek nourishment from them, and to model

your life upon them. You are to make Christ and his

redemptive love known, by your word and example, to those

among whom you live, and work, and worship. You are to

interpret to the Church the needs, concerns, and hopes of the

world. You are to assist the bishop and priests in public

worship and in the ministration of God's Word and

Sacraments, and you are to carry out other duties assigned to

you from time to time. At all times, your life and teaching are

to show Christ's people that in serving the helpless they are

serving Christ himself.

My brother/sister, do you believe that you are truly called by God

and his Church to the life and work of a deacon?

I can say after reading that this describes perfectly (somewhat generally) what is in my heart to do. I wonder where the questions came or come from? It may be that I don’t see these roles being played out in "real life" very clearly. In many ways I'm confused by what I see. I see roles that are somewhat muddled throughout the church. Priests doing too much, Deacons not doing enough, and Lay People sort of filling in when and where they can. The church needs an injection of reality. We need to begin to deconstruct our own house and get to the bottom of this. We need to ask all the hard questions and seek the real answers.

welcoming the intern

It's Holy Week at Saint Paul's. I made myself useful this morning helping to make copies of the Passion reading and cutting up some fabric so the little kids could have "cloaks" for the processional, which makes me feel I'm contributing in a small way to what's going on during these busy services. It also helps me to connect to this parish and become a member of the community.

Interning is a lot different than walking into a church as a visitor who is seeking a church home. The expectation is all wrong, or maybe all right... I don’t know which. There’s a different sense of welcome maybe? I like it. I feel that my welcome at Saint Paul’s has been pretty seamless. I think this speaks volumes about the character of this community. In a sense I wasn’t a complete stranger to Saint Paul’s. The Rector and the Deacon where asked to host and they in turn brought this request to the Vestry, then the community was informed that I’d be with them for up to a year. They were prepared.

We are not so prepared when a visitor steps through our doors; even a visitor who is really out to find a church home. Of course we don’t know they’re coming. We haven’t been given a brief spiritual biography to read over. We aren’t given credentials from the Episcopal Church in Minnesota assuring us that the visitor really is on the level and that we should welcome them as a member of the parish. Yes it’s different. And to be fair there’s probably as much hesitation on the part of the “visitor”. How can we make visitors feel welcome without making it awkward in any way? Maybe it’s impossible? Maybe we ought not worry about it and just “keep it real”.