Showing posts with label discernment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label discernment. Show all posts

Sunday, August 30, 2015

James! Finally!

Sermon at Transfiguration Church, Mesa
Year B, Proper 17


Have you ever spent time looking at pictures of yourself from 2 years ago?  5 years ago? 10 years ago? Longer?  What comes to mind for you as you look at those pictures?  Is there some surprise about yourself?  Perhaps you can remember the dreams you had for yourself or those close to you when the picture was taken.  Perhaps you remember the hopes that turned out to be dashed. The hopes that should never have been hopes in the first place. The forgotten dreams that brings regret once remembered. The fulfilled dreams that brought great joy. 

Perhaps you’ve even looked back at old journals?  Or old lists of goals stuffed in a book somewhere that you come across when it’s time to do a deep cleaning.  I wonder what folks think about when they read those lists.  I wonder if we remember something about a better part of ourselves that we may have forgotten.

Let’s come back to that later, but I’m curious,
What are your favorite books of the Bible?

Part of the genius in the use of the lectionary—the three-year cycle of readings that are appointed for use in worship—is that it gives us a systematic breadth of biblical material over those three years.  One advantage is that we are not simply subjected to the whims of preachers who may want to simply stay in their own comfort zone or only preach their favorite passages.  But sometimes, if the preacher is patient, their favorite passages come around.
So I am excited to be here with you this morning!  Not only because I have always felt so welcomed in this community, but because I get to talk about the letter of James— my favorite!—one of the most radical and one of the most slandered books in the Bible! 

Elsa Tamez, a Latin-American feminist theologian, once noted that:

If the letter of James were sent to Christian communities in certain countries that suffer from violence and exploitation, it would very possibly be intercepted by government security agencies.  The document would be branded a subversive because of the paragraphs that denounce the exploitation by landowners (5:1-6) and the carefree life of merchants (4:13-17).  The passage that affirms that “pure, unspoilt religion, in the eyes of God our Father is this: coming to the help of orphans and widows when they need it, and keeping oneself uncontaminated by the world” (1:27) would be criticized as a reduction of the gospel or as Marxist-Leninist infiltration in the churches.  The community that was to receive this letter would become very suspicious to the authorities.[1]

Tamez was speaking in the context of civil unrest and revolution, and oppression in many Latin American countries.  The disappearances. The torture chambers. The assassinations.  Her point remains. 

The letter of James has had to deal with similar interceptions over its history.  This letter has made church authorities suspicious since the beginning, and perhaps the only reason it made it into the canon of scripture was the hard-fought consensus that it may have been written by James, the brother of Jesus.  And at that point it’s included because, hey, its Jesus’s brother.  Even then, its position as scripture was not solidified until the 400s. 

Further, In the Reformation, the letter suffered more malignment.  Reformers like Luther downplayed James’s letter for two reasons.

1)      Western Christianity has in general been more interested in figuring out the philosophical underpinnings of the faith than the implications of that work.  The controversies in Western theology have been more invested in who Jesus is and the fully human and fully divine nature of Christ.  Important work, to be sure; but in the meantime, a letter about the implications of living a holy life loses its luster or importance in the mainstream theological debates of the day.

2)      The reformers were concerned with how salvation works.  Is it by faith or works?  James was seen as too focused on works as opposed to Luther’s faith by justification alone.  There is a definite preference for Paul among the reformers.
a.      And actually, Luther said “St. John’s Gospel and his first epistle, St. Paul’s epistles, especially Romans, Galatians, and Ephesians and St. Peter’s first epistle are the books that show you Christ and teach you all that is necessary and salvatory for you to know, even if you were never to see any other book or doctrine.  Therefore St. James’s epistle is really an epistle of straw, compared to these others, for it has nothing of the nature of the Gospel about it.”[2] 

Harsh!

The malignment did not end at the Reformation.  With the ascendance of historical-critical biblical criticism in the 1800s-1940s, many commentators simply thought that the letter of James was “too Jewish.”  The anti-Semitism exhibited in the scholarship showed up as some argued that the letter is actually a Jewish letter with references to Jesus added in later.  So it seemed to many to be an un-Christian letter in the New Testament.  Remember this is the anti-Semitism that set the stage for the holocaust, so naming something as “Jewish” was a way to dismiss it.  Never mind that even though James does not talk about who Jesus is, it is chock full of what Jesus said.  

But it’s not just in theology that James is not talked about.  The letter is frequently and historically cherry-picked in worship. We only hear it once for a few weeks every three years. Rarely is it preached upon.  In fact, missing from our lectionary are the first six verses of the fifth chapter of James, which read:

Come now, you rich people, weep and wail for the miseries that are coming to you. Your riches have rotted, and your clothes are moth-eaten. Your gold and silver have rusted, and their rust will be evidence against you, and it will eat your flesh like fire. You have laid up treasure for the last days. Listen! The wages of the labourers who mowed your fields, which you kept back by fraud, cry out, and the cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord of hosts. You have lived on the earth in luxury and in pleasure; you have fattened your hearts on a day of slaughter. You have condemned and murdered the righteous one, who does not resist you.

Throughout history, in churches where royalty, feudal lords, landowners, slave owners, corporate executives, and the richest donors to the church may be sitting in the front pew, few pastors have wanted to spend long commenting on that passage.  But it is a prophetic piece. And by prophetic, we do not mean just telling the future, but naming what is wrong in the community and larger society.  In essence, prophets are those who bring social critique, and in the Biblical sense; always point out when the poor are not being taken care of, which signals to the prophet that justice is not being served.  Because of this, James’ letter is in line with the prophets of the Old Testament (and Jesus!).                                                                                               

There are three angles through which to view the letter, and I commend these angles to you as you hear the passages from James as they are read over the next few weeks.  These angles are helpful in that they help illuminate in our own context the ways this letter still has much to say.

The Angle of Oppression and Suffering: There is a community of believers that suffers.  There is a group of rich people who oppress them and drag them before tribunals.  There are peasants who are exploited, Christians and non-Christians, by rich farmers who accumulate wealth at the expense of the workers’ salaries.[3]  There is a class of merchants who lead a carefree life with no concern for the poor.[4]

The Angle of Hope: The community of believers needs a word of hope, of encouragement, of reassurance concerning the end of the injustice.  James gives it to them from the very beginning of his letter.  We see hope in James’s greeting, his insistence on exhorting the community to faithful expectation and happiness in the face of unrelenting BS, in his words about God’s preference for the poor, God’s judgment against the oppressors, the anticipated end of that oppression, and the coming of the Lord.

The Angle of Praxis (practice):  The content of the letter is concentrated in this angle.  For James the denunciation of the present situation and the announcement of hope are not in themselves sufficient. Something more is needed: praxis [action, a practice].  He asks of these Christians a praxis in which they show a resolute patience; a consistency between words, belief, and deeds; a power with prayer; an effective wisdom; and an unconditional, sincere love among the members of the community that does not make distinction between members based on wealth [—or rather, to elevate the poor since the status of the rich so often guarantees that they will get respect.[5]][6]

This emphasis on the practice of faith is where James will concentrate for the rest of Chapters 1 and 2 in his letter, beginning with his admonition to “be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves.” 

This brings me back to the questions I started with.  Time has a way of dissolving one’s attention, intention, and resolve.  As James says, “if any are hearers of the word and not doers, they are like those who look at themselves in a mirror; for they look at themselves and, on going away, immediately forget what they were like.”  There are times in our faith that are like us coming to our senses, like looking up and breathing deeply of fresher air than the drudgery of life might normally allow, gaining a perspective so much greater than our own, only to then find our lives return to  tunnel vision in the act of existing.  But it’s amazing how soon the memory of our intentions can come back to us when we are confronted with it face-to-face.  That project you always wanted to do.  The commitment to spend more time with your loved ones.  Exercising the gift you offer to the world’s great need. The persistent sin that remains unaddressed.  How many times have you committed to something only to later discover much later that it had become forgotten?  How often have those commitments represented the better of your intentions and an impulse given to you by God through the Spirit?

James’s letter will cover a lot of ground in the next few weeks.  They are words well worth marking.  And it’s worth seeing that it is a letter that speaks to hope, oppression and suffering, and the shape of the holy life in ways immediately relevant to our own lives. 

I suggest that questions that confront us today are these:  Is there a greater purpose of your life that has been forgotten that needs to be recovered?  What is the thing God wants you to hold onto as your own precious work for the Kingdom we proclaim in word and deed?  How will you own this truth, and hold it as the gift it is in the days, weeks, and years to come?

May God bless us in both our hearing and doing, as we proclaim and build for the Good of the Kingdom.



[1] Tamez, Elsa. The Scandalous Message of James: Faith without Works Is Dead. Rev. ed. (New York: Crossroad, 2002) 1.
[2] Wittenburg, 1522.
[3] Jas. 5.
[4] Jas. 4.
[5] Jas 2:1-6.
[6] This list of interpretive angles is found in Elsa Tamez, The scandalous message of James: faith without works is dead, Rev. ed. (New York: Crossroad, 2002), 11.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

To Everything, There is a Season

Last Wednesday night, a classmate--Adrian Dannhauser--and I team-preached at a weekly Eucharist for Berkeley Divinity School at Yale. The service was centered around the concept of harvest, based on the time of year and the fact that the society during the time of Jesus was agrarian. The harvest was a critical part of survival. And those with plenty were taught to share with those who had less than enough. Instead of two distinct sermons, I offered an introduction to a guided meditation Adrian led.

The Gospel Reading: John 4:31-38

Meanwhile the disciples were urging him, ‘Rabbi, eat something.’ But he said to them, ‘I have food to eat that you do not know about.’ So the disciples said to one another, ‘Surely no one has brought him something to eat?’ Jesus said to them, ‘My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work. Do you not say, “Four months more, then comes the harvest”? But I tell you, look around you, and see how the fields are ripe for harvesting. The reaper is already receivingwages and is gathering fruit for eternal life, so that sower and reaper may rejoice together. For here the saying holds true, “One sows and another reaps.” I sent you to reap that for which you did not labour. Others have laboured, and you have entered into their labour.’

Robert Berra:

How often it is in the Gospel of John that Jesus answers a question concerning the tangible and material with a pronouncement about a spiritual reality through metaphor. We see it with Jesus talking to the Samaritan woman at the well about living water.

In fact, the brief exchange between the disciples and Jesus we have just heard happens right as the Samaritan woman is returning to her village. She tells everyone about Jesus, and many, many of them come to seek him out and to believe in him. After Jesus stays for a two day visit, the people of the village rejoice:

“We have now heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Saviour of the world.’

A fruitful harvest indeed.

One of the lessons that the Gospel passage may have for us tonight is that —like Jesus invited the disciples to work in the harvest—we have all been invited to work for the kingdom of God in some way. Jesus’ observation that we enter into the labor of others breaks open the often too-simple, too-linear, and too-self-focused consideration that makes of spiritual reaping and sowing a project I take on and I finish.  Are we such islands unto ourselves?

As we think about reaping and sowing in terms of what we bring to communities we may serve, we may find ourselves weaving our own work into a tapestry of plantings and harvests begun, or in progress, or finishing in places where others also work. —Where we are not simply a solitary reaper or a sower, going from planting to harvest on our own.

Since many of us are in New Haven and the surrounding area for a short time, we may wonder how to best help in harvest fields others will continue to work once we leave. There is a certain spiritual maturity this lesson in practical ministry teaches; that someone else plants, we water, and wait for the growth that comes from God, which we may never see (St. Paul knew something of this; see 1 Cor 3:6).

As we work alongside others, we find that we are impacted by their work as well, sometimes finding within ourselves the seedlings they have planted; perhaps even when we were not looking.

This brings us to our own spiritual reaping and sowing. Our own discernment of the disposition of our spiritual life.

And we have found ourselves at Yale Divinity School. What a marvelous place to think about what we sow and what we reap and how we participate in the work of others as we contemplate the present and future of our own walk with God.

Tonight, we are doing something quite different from a traditional sermon. We instead wish to open a space for meditation, staying with the metaphor of harvest.

Let us take an opportunity to breathe deeply, 
Settle into our souls,
And recollect ourselves
As we remember why we are here.

Let us pray

Almighty God, from you we see the increase of the earth, and you bring forth spiritual fruits within us. Be present to us as we listen for your will in our lives. We ask this in the name of your son Jesus Christ. Amen.

Adrian’s Meditation

I invite you to take a deep breath. Close your eyes as you breathe out. And let your body relax.

I. Harvesting

Visualize a grove of trees. It is autumn. There is a slight chill in the air, and the leaves are changing colors. Look up to the sky and see the sunlight shining through colored leaves like a stained glass window – red leaves, yellow leaves, orange. You can smell the dampness of the earth after a recent rain.

It is time for harvest. It is time to gather pumpkins, gourds, baskets of apples, bushels of wheat.
“See how the fields are ripe for harvesting.”

What are you harvesting… now, in this season of your life?
-Are there fruits of the Spirit?
-Earthly blessings?
-Are you reaping justice fought for by those who have gone before you?
-Perhaps there are things in your life that you have sought out with God’s help.

Jesus tells us that doing the Father’s will is food. How is God’s will taking shape in your life?  What is ripe for the picking?

(Silence)

II. Sowing

After the harvest, there is more sowing to be done. Autumn is the time to plant seeds… for kale, for beets, carrots and beans. Imagine yourself tilling the ground. The sun warms your back, and a gentle breeze blows across your face. You can smell the scent of freshly upturned dirt.

What seeds do you drop into the earth?
-Are they intentions for this semester?
-Or the early stages of a new project?
-Is there a dream that God has laid upon your heart?
-What are the things you want to nurture to fruition?

(Silence)

III. Nurturing

As we nurture our sprouting seeds – our young little crops – we protect them. We shelter them from the harsh weather. We keep away the pests. We uproot nearby weeds or thorns that choke out life.

Is there something that might threaten the health of your crops?
Old habits?
New fears?
Maybe there’s an external obstacle.
Or a sin that’s taken root and needs to be cleared away.

How will you protect your crops to ensure that they flourish?

(Silence)

IV. Nourishment from God’s grace

The success of our crops does not hang on our efforts alone. As we nurture them – pruning back, weeding out – our crops access nutrients that we could never create. They receive the light of Christ shining down. They soak up the water that is living water.

Our crops – our intentions, our dreams, our pursuits – receive the outpouring of the grace of God, who labors in the field so that we might reap the harvest.

(Silence)

Amen.

Thursday, May 24, 2012

"What Just Happened!?" -- Looking Back at Ordination

This post proceeds through three sections.  In the first, I give some personally formative quotes I keep in mind when I speak of ordination.  In the second, I keep to my own experience.  In the third, I try my hand at a personal theology of ordination, and it necessarily touches on concepts of being and ontology.


Quotes on my mind
“If you’re not a priest the day before ordination, you won’t be the day after.” - An unidentified Jesuit.
"Ordination recognizes and brings to fruition a process that has been going on for some time in a person’s life." --Richard G. Malloy, SJ
"As in the case of Baptism and Confirmation this share in Christ's office is granted once for all. The sacrament of Holy Orders, like the other two, confers an indelible spiritual character and cannot be repeated or conferred temporarily." --#1582 Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC)
"...The character imprinted by ordination is for ever. The vocation and mission received on the day of his ordination mark him permanently." --#1583 (CCC)
"In calling the act "sacramental," we are recognizing that it is not just the authorizing of certain persons to perform distinctive functions in the Church, but it is a conferring of grace on these persons themselves.  The special ministries are not to be understood exhaustively in functional terms; they also have an ontological dimension, they are ways of being in the Church.  The call of  a person to the ministry and his response, and then his solemn ordination, affect him in the depth of his being." --John MacQuarrie, Principles of Christian Theology
"The word that has been traditionally used by theologians to designate this ontological dimension of ministry is "character".   There is nothing magical about such character, nor does it fall ready-made from heaven at ordination.  Ministerial character...is a formation of the person, the building of a distinctive pattern of personal being...the functional and ontological understandings of ministry are complementary, not competitive.  It is through doing the acts that character is formed, then character in turn informs acts.  Ministerial functions without the depth of ministerial character would be only an outward appearance." --John MacQuarrie, Principles of Christian Theology. See CCC #1582 above for an example of the use of character.
"We stress again that there is nothing magic about such character; and just as the calling to the ordained ministry can be understood as an extension of the election that belongs to all Christian experience, so ministerial character can be understood as a special development of the character which baptism opens to all Christians." --John MacQuarrie, Principles of Christian Theology
((Disclaimer: Gender exclusivity in the quotes are par for the course in the Roman Catholic Church regarding ordination.  MacQuarrie wrote in 1966 and revised 1977, so his language is exclusive but he could entertain the idea of women's ordination.)) 
"Something happens.  Robert will still be in this community, he will still be who he is, but some things will change." -- Gil
 ____________________________________________________

Seminarians and divinity school students loooooooooooovvvvvvvvveeee to talk about what happens at ordination.  If you have nothing to do for an hour and a half, find yourself a Baptist, an Episcopalian, a Methodist, a Pentecostal, a Roman Catholic, a non-denominational rep, a theologian not in an ordination process, and an atheist; put them at a table (alcohol optional but preferred); utter the phrase "ontological change" and "ordination" and sit back;  they will take it from there.

Yes, we love to talk about it...and talk, and talk, and talk, and talk, and talk, and talk, and talk...I'm making the talking motion with my hand.

Okay, both hands back on the keyboard. On to writing about it.

We tend to talk a lot about "ontological change."  That's a fancy way of saying that God does something to a person during the ordination that changes the person's very existence in the world and in relation to the world.  The debate, in its simplest terms, is whether such a change happens, or whether we are asking God's blessing on someone "set apart" for ministry but does not make the person  something "other" than as human as a lay person.

(There are good reasons to debate this, and I'll give two questions that seem to drive the debates but I will not address them here.  First, does the idea of an ontological change seem verifiable in the life of ministers?  Second, does this concept of ontological change create a "specialness" about clergy that necessarily denigrates the ministry of the laity, or implies the laity are not as close to God?)

I used to join in these conversations, but as ordination approached I got to a point where I did not want to talk about what "happened" at ordination.  I could talk about being excited about ordination, about plans for after ordination, but I dreaded the conversation about what "happened" at ordination. 

The dread reached a high point the Monday before the ordination.  I went out with a few friends after a final exam was finished.  Thanks to me and Emilie (another Arizonan ordained on the same day as me)  being there, the conversation turned to ordination, and the conversation eventually turned to what "happens" at ordination... as it does.  A friend who was there has a fairly low sacramental theology while I have a fairly high sacramental theology.  This makes for a lot of playful banter back and forth.  That particular day his banter was well-intentioned goading, but goading all the same.  I wasn't feeling it that day.  Any other day-- especially, say, three months ago--it would have been fine; that day it was a bit rougher on me.  I didn't bite the bait he left.

I am a reserved person in the first place, but that day my reservedness was notable, and people asked if I was okay with the conversation.  In general I was 'okay' but a tad troubled.  It seemed to me that day to be a lot of people talking with some definitiveness about a speculative matter of theology that was soon to be part of my concrete experience.

When one person asked me if I was okay, I answered (in some form) that I had no idea what would happen at ordination, but I would be happy to talk about what the two months before ordination had felt like.  I was experiencing the run-up to ordination at a personal level -- in mystical relationship to God -- that called me to silence, solemnity, and openness instead of trying carve out an a priori understanding of what was going to happen to me in the ordination service, or following the service.  I did not want to create a certain expectation for God to fulfill, given how often in my life God has preferred to surprise me.

And it made so much more sense to talk about what I could talk about:  my experience of God that had seemingly ramped-up since January--more frequent, more intense.   Parts of my life opening to God in new, deeper ways.  I didn't think some of the things were coming.  From February to mid-April I experienced sleepless nights, nightmares, the gnawing of inadequacies and impurities that hung about me.  Dreams blended segments of my life and my new-coming identity.  I sought Confession, received absolution, and was spurred to do so by God much sooner than I had planned.  I experienced in a very real way the simultaneous "yes" and "no" of God's judgment that affirmed my belovedness and kept (and keeps) calling me to the fullness for which I was made. Orientation. Disorientation. Reorientation.  My identity, my being, was shifted before I landed in Phoenix.

Then I was in Phoenix.  And I was there a few days before the ordination, so I worked in wonderful conversations, quiet, prayer, and worship with St. Brigid's Community.  Dinner with St. Brigid's Community was wonderful and affirming in that it gave me an opportunity to reflect aloud about my formation.  In honesty I think the formation of seminary is the same as every other Christian's formation.  The only difference is that seminary offers an accelerated experience in hopes that the program moves people to a position where they are able to faithfully and maturely exercise spiritual servant leadership once they graduate.

I was ordained on May 5th at 10am.  We ordinands needed to be there at 9am to get ready for the procession, but more importantly to sit in prayer.  Sitting in prayer took me a while to do; pushing the excitement and nervousness back enough to quiet myself was difficult, but aided with a rosary.  After completing the rosary, in the silence, I began quietly weeping for a reason I cannot fathom.  The call affirmed? Nothing pointed me to think otherwise...  Sadness?  Definitely not...

Peace... love... healing... gratitude to God and all who have walked this journey with me... the womb of God...that is close enough.  And there was nine of us being ordained, so there were nine different experiences of that silence.

We sat in prayer until the bishop came in to give a short talk.   "There is no secret handshake.  Just love the people."

The rest of the service was in turns an exercise in concentration through a whirlwind of activity, a fight to keep composure, and a holy experience from which I try remember every detail.  (Ordinations are more like weddings than many suppose.)  We were greeted by many people; we had lunch with friends, and then Laura and I returned to our friends' home for a quiet night in. 

The next morning I woke up to my first full day of ordained life. Things had changed...  but the trick is separating these changes into the perceived and the concrete, the external/institutional and the internal/ontological/spiritual (and don't let the dualisms I've hastily constructed fool you, none of these are as mutually exclusive as they appear).  I'm not done with this work yet.

Externally, things are taking some getting used to.  There is a collar around my neck.  Friends and strangers are calling me by honorifics.  I put on more or different vestments.  I am now classified as "associated clergy" at my internship parish; blanket references to clergy now mean me.  There is an authority that I need to sort out as I exercise it.  There are people to serve, and I am finding that ministry's expression in my life.  The freedom to use my own discretion encompasses a greater range of possible actions within a hierarchical Church.

In clericals, I am now no longer a stranger to most people, but a person to be actively ignored or engaged... and I never quite know how that is going to go as I walk by.  Maybe what has changed for me is the effort I take to make eye contact and seem accessible.  I ask people their names if we talk.  I let people talk to me (at me?) on the train from Norwalk to Bridgeport.  I don't mind listening; but I'm lucky to be out of school, so there is little that I feel like absolutely needs to get done that would cause me to close myself off in public.

But internally, I find it difficult to discern any major difference in myself between May 4th and May 6th apart from the fact that I have an authority, a servant ministry, and the discretion to explore both in ways that will leave me changed.  I cannot yet sense an enhanced sense of holiness/sacredness that is not somehow tied to my experience of life in this world, which does not bother me at all.  This world is the realm of God's action, and so I trust that God acted in the ordination.  Personally, my experience of God months and minutes before the ordination point to the certainty of God's presence at the ordination.  In the end I'm willing to accept Gil's statement I quoted above as a sufficient explanation of a mystery I am experiencing.  And maybe it as simple as saying that the grace of God continually finds a way to affirm where I've been and where I am.  If ordination added to that -- and I'm rather sure that it did -- then I am immeasurably blessed.  And I am opening to discovering more about it.
________________________________________________________

In terms of a theology of ordination, I follow much of what John Macquarrie has written, which I provide in quotes above.

I guess I need to say something about ontological change.  Let's start with definitions!  (Philosophers and theologians may need to forgive my brevity on these.)
Being (two meanings):  1) (v.)the act or energy of existence and 2) (n.)the existent entity in which this act expresses and manifests itself. 
Ontology:  The study of the nature of being, existence, and reality.
Ontological Change: a change in a way of being, a la John Macquarrie above.

My understanding of ontological change is that it is roughly synonymous with the processes of sanctification and Theosis, through which Christians grow into the fulness of Christ.  I would take this to mean that Baptism is also an ontological change in which the person is brought into unitive Being with God.  Every action that furthers that unity-- which is the human conforming oneself to Christ -- is then in some sense a change in being to the fulness of that which humanity was created to be.  An ontological change.  What the Church has done in naming sacraments is recognize particular actions of common and individual life, actions given by God in Christ to the Church or recognized for its exceptional character, as arenas in which our ways of being are reordered.  The processes of sanctification/deification and our turning  to the fulness of that God created us to be is not simply a static state waiting for dramatic movement (although growth in Christ sometimes happens like that), but a continuous process.

The first two quotes I placed above-- from the Jesuits-- bring to bear a truth that seems to go unmentioned too often in the  conversations I have about ordination and what "changes."  The work of God is not often an instant occurrence, but a process that works within our own history and our relationship to the Divine.  It may be that the ordination service imposes an artificial point on a liminal process that lasts much longer.  The ordination service asks the ordinand to commit to a formation that has begun and will continue, and asks that God's grace be bestowed upon the person so that the work of formation can be furthered  (BCP 545).  The service is where the community recognizes formation and asks God's blessing upon it, after which the church will consider the blessing given and the action done.  The service is the work of the Church and God which becomes the outward sign of a spiritual grace that has been garnered over years of prayer and experience and will (hopefully) continue into the future.   Being "made" a deacon/priest/bishop is not the work of an instant...and it seems to me to be better expressed as being made deacon as opposed to being made a deacon.

This view is, I think, consonant with what I've said above:  that my own experience of ordination was a process of purgation and reorientation that lasted months and is not yet completed, and I've experienced this entire period as a shift in being.  I think I was "deacon" the day before my ordination.  On the day after, I could begin to act as "deacon" in its fullest expression with the authority and blessing of the Church through the grace of God.  The external changes have been more obvious and, in terms of being, I continue to discern further what God calls me to be.


 

Monday, April 2, 2012

The trip to the Apostles of the Sacred Heart

I dialed the number and inhaled deeply.  This call felt awkward.  I didn't know exactly why I wanted to visit. I didn't feel prepared to talk.

"Hello, may I help you?"

"Um, yes, my names is Robert Berra, and I'm a student at Yale Divinity School in New Haven.  My great grand-aunt was a member of the Apostles until she passed away in 1995.  Her name was Caroline Berra.  I am wondering if I could come visit sometime in the next two weeks..." 

She gave an affirming answer and asked me to wait as she put me on hold. She came back about five minutes later.

"Robert, Caroline was one of the founders of the adult day care we have on site.  I'm emailing your information to our archivist who is here on Mondays and Thursdays.  She may have some information for you."
_____________
I really started to ask questions about Sister Caroline in the fall of 2008.  At Arizona State University, I took a course on "Sex and Gender in American Religion." We spent some time talking and reading about Catholic convents and the Protestant detestation of them, particularly in the 1800s. It was then that I remembered that there was a religious sister in my family. And so I went looking for Sister Caroline’s information because of my class readings and because I recently decided to join a local New Monastic community through a local Episcopal Church. The Apostles are not Benedictine as such, which is the monastic tradition I most closely identify (though I am finding that there is a Dominican streak running through me); still it was heartening to know that I'm treading a path that has already been traveled in my family: the path of professing vows for/to the service of God, the Church, and all people. Caroline's journey to taking vows has figured into both my exploration of religious orders and re-appropriation of the some of the substance of catholic Christianity.  In moving to New Haven, it was somewhat on my mind that the Apostles were based three miles away in Hamden.

Since meeting a sister of the order while I was a chaplain intern at the Hospital of St Raphael in New Haven, and then running into the sisters in other public places, I've felt the pull to visit the Apostles of the Sacred Heart since August.  The time never seemed right for a visit until a few weeks ago, as Spring Break approached. Then as I checked her obituary in preparation for the phone call, I noticed  that the hospital I served in this summer was the same hospital in which she passed away.
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The following day, I received an email from another sister, based in Pennsylvania.
Hi Robert (Bob),
I'm Sr. S. and I received an email from one of our sisters saying that you were at Yale and related to Sr. Caroline.  I lived with her at the Manor for a good 20 years until her death.  We were good friends.  I also taught Karen and Michael Berra at St. Ambrose.
Presently I'm stationed in Pa., but I'm coming to Ct. this Weekend for a workshop.  I'd love to meet you and or talk to you. What can we arrange?
 We made arrangements to meet the coming Friday evening at the Manor.
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I was let into the manor by a sister who asked me to take a seat in the darkened lobby.  The overhead lights were off, and the room was lit by two lamps.  Sr. S. had not yet arrived.  I sat down on a couch in the darkened lobby and listened carefully.  Somewhere, a radio was playing Stevie Ray Vaughn's "Pride and Joy."  I smiled.  That's a great song.  It seemed like the manor was shutting down for the night.  There was little movement; the place was quiet except for the tell-tale sounds of banging hotel pans told me that people were cleaning a kitchen.  A few sisters walked by me slowly--the couch was by a door opening to the main corridor--they smiled and said 'hello.'  I returned their greetings.

Did I know why I was there yet?  No.  I didn't even yet know what I wanted to ask.

S. arrived about ten minutes later, and still having little sense of what I wanted to know,  I asked S. to simply speak of Caroline.  S. suggested we go down to the adult day care that she and Caroline helped start in 1988.  As we went she pointed out pictures of Caroline as she saw them.

(Caroline is in the foreground with the back turned)
This particular picture S. stopped to elaborate on.  In 1993, the sisters decided to put on a play based on the film Sister Act.  S. said that Caroline really did a wonderful job as Whoopi Goldberg's character, and that it was a shame that there was not a video of the event. Another picture was a football game event around the Superbowl in 1992.
(Caroline is once again in the foreground facing away.)
We entered the day center and sat down.  I began to show S. some of the material I had:  Caroline's obituary, the program from her funeral Mass, and a drawn genogram to show her where is was in the family in relation to Caroline.  S. asked me to speak a little of my own life, and I told her of my journey from Alabama to Arizona to Connecticut, and from the Southern Baptist Church  to near-ordination in the Episcopal Church.  I mentioned that I wanted to learn about my family in general, but I was also interested in how Caroline lived out her religious vows, and I confided that I was also looking at the vows I would soon be taking.

I asked S. to tell me about starting the center and living with Caroline. What was she like? Caroline was normally a very reserved person, and only one person, a sister Cecilia, could get her to play dress-up for events and parties they threw. But once she was in character, she really enjoyed it. Caroline used to joke that once the day care reached fifty occupants, she would retire from it. The rest of the staff jokingly decided not to tell her once they (rather quickly) sailed past fifty. She was very artistic and loved crafts. She must have been rather resourceful, because the center started with very little and they often had to improvise.

S. and I then continued to walk through the center, which is a beautiful space, where we found the photo albums for the center.  S. and I went through, and she allowed me to take the photos of Caroline (which I will return).

After gathering some photos, S. and I walked back to a table and spoke for some time.  I asked her about her own work as a teacher in Pennsylvania, working with mentally handicapped children and young adults. At around 9pm, she asked if I had a ride home and offered to take me back to New Haven. I accepted.  As we parted I wished her well and blessings and safety in her travels; she did the same and said it was wonderful to meet someone from Caroline's family and think on the wonderful memories.
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A few weeks later, March 22nd rolled around; the day Caroline passed away and the day she is memorialized in the ASCJ.  It was also the day of my middler review, in which the seminary/divinity school has a conversation with the student about how things are going. Thanks to the visit, I had some sense of my way forward in the Transitional Diaconate.  It's odd and wonderful really.  I came back from the visit with an answer to a question I didn't know how to ask.

The next day I took a trip out to North Haven--where she is buried--and I paid my respects.


I'm am thankful that S. took the time to speak to me about Caroline; and I am grateful to Caroline for her service to God and her example to me.

O God, the King of saints, we praise and glorify your holy
Name for all your servants who have finished their course in
your faith and fear: for the blessed Virgin Mary; for the holy
patriarchs, prophets, apostles, and martyrs; and for all your
other righteous servants, known to us and unknown; and we
pray that, encouraged by their examples, aided by their
prayers, and strengthened by their fellowship, we also may
be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light; through
the merits of your Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.


Saturday, January 3, 2009

Holiday Review 2- The Clergy

Before I start what will either be an incredibly long post or a series of smaller posts about the break, I want to start with two meetings I had with priests in Tempe, AZ and Mobile, AL.

I met with Gil on the Tuesday before I left for Mobile. It was our first spiritual direction session and he asked what I wanted to get out of spiritual direction. At the moment I’m looking for more confidence in what Marcus Borg calls the “emerging paradigm” in Christianity. Knowing that I’d be in Mobile for the next few weeks, Gil suggested that I add nothing else to my disciplines, but to see simply see if I could maintain what I do. He also suggested a few exercises in concept mapping to solidify what I think about different aspects of Christianity. I have not done so yet; I had no peace to do so over the break. I will start this soon. Later that week he also loaned me a book by Susan Howatch called Glamorous Powers. The book is a fictional work about a priest (an ex-monk) in the Church of England. I immensely enjoyed reading it over the break.

He also suggested that I meet with Jim and Mary (not knowing I had already made an appointment) as a way of getting people who had known me longer than he in on the priesthood conversation.

I could not wait to meet with Jim and Mary when I arrived in Mobile. They had also made themselves available to me when I wanted to talk about Christianity or theology, assisted in my confirmation, and married me and Laura. Thus, they have played a major role in my spiritual formation.

I expected the meeting to a take an hour; it lasted for two. From the meeting I gained the following:

  1. My sense of disconnect from the secularization of the world was affirmed.
  2. Don’t be afraid of counseling if Laura and I need it when the time for hard decisions comes.
  3. If possible, go to seminary for the full three years. Alternative ordination may get me ordained sooner, but they both sense that I’d better serve parishioners by living the rhythm of seminary. This seems based on Jim’s sense that we are kindred spirits in academic settings and will love the immersion in study and worship; I think he is right.
  4. Take the affirmations of my calling seriously. Both Jim and Mary said that my sense of calling does not surprise them; they felt it had been coming since the weekend of my confirmation. So far, everyone whose spiritual life I trust has affirmed this call. Also, about fifteen minutes after Jim recommended taking affirmations seriously, Kathy (my student teaching mentor) stuck her head in the office, saw me, and asked “Are you going to seminary yet?” Jim looked at me and said, “That’s the affirmation I was talking about.”
  5. Be aware of the increased sense of poignancy in everyday life (it took hearing this to realize that it has already been going on).
  6. Vary the liturgy.
  7. Build my library. I left with book recommendations. BTW, Laura’s grandfather is sending me a box of books on theology and exegesis.
  8. Don’t fret that I wasn’t ready to respond to the call until now or that I didn’t see something that others apparently did.
  9. God sometimes has an unscrupulous sense of humor and I’ll be thrown curveballs occasionally.
  10. The work is hard, but very rewarding (kind of like teaching).
After two hours, I thanked them for their time. They saw me in the middle of preparations for the Christmas services, a very busy time from which to take two hours. Before I left the church I stepped into the chapel to do my Noonday prayers and left with a sense of peace. The meeting is still fairly foremost in my thoughts even now.