Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) approves change in ordination standard

Read this news article from May 2011. I'll probably write a few (hundred) posts on this topic. I'm just sayin'.

Reflection on Amendment 10-A

I’d like to share a story with you: my coming out story. A few years ago, I was sitting around a table, drinking beer with friends, and the topic of sexuality came up. And I said, “you know, I think I might not be straight because I’ve noticed that I feel attracted to women.” It was the first time I had ever said that out loud to anyone. That night, I remember feeling celebrated by the people who were with me, and excited about my future. The Table around which we sat was one of the round tables in the back room at the bar down the street, and the People who were gathered around it were members of the Worship Planning Team.

I am aware that not everyone, not all Presbyterians, feel the same way about the ratification of Amendment 10-A, or more specifically, about ordaining LGBTQ folk. That being said, in my journey, I became Queer when I became Presbyterian. In my life, I don’t know how to be one of those without being the other. And it is this faith community that has held me in both of these identities.

As Presbyterians, we will “seek justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God.”

The LGBTQ community will also seek justice, but we walk with Pride, and with God.

And I wonder: aren’t the similarities striking, between the work of the PC(USA) and that of the Queer community? . . . I believe that we, as people of faith, are called to recognize the humanity of all people, and to work for the full inclusion of everyone in all aspects of society.

For “all are children of God though Christ Jesus . . . There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for all are one in Christ Jesus.”

What I expect from my seminary education . . .

In 2009, I began writing and presenting liturgy at Covenant Community Church. One of my favorite pieces of liturgy is the Invitation to the Table. I love the Table because it's a symbol that is filled with complexities and questions. Whose Table is it? What is its purpose? Why do we need it? (Do we need it?) Why is the story of Jesus breaking bread with his disciples important? Where is Christ, in relation to the Table? Who breaks the bread now? Who is invited to the feast? (Who would want to go, anyway?) What do we ask of the Table? What does the Table ask of us?

The Table has become central to my understanding of how to be church. I love the Table because it represents God's radically inclusive love. Actually, I'm more comfortable observing the radical inclusiveness of the Table itself. It's not that I want to leave God out of it (how would one approach that task?), but talking about God's love feels a little too mushy for my taste. The radical inclusiveness of the Table is a political reality, and it has (or should have) real consequences for our shared lives together. I believe that the Table has the power to transform our society, because it gives us that power.

So, what do I expect from my seminary education? For one thing, I expect the readings and class discussions to challenge my assumptions about the church, including my beliefs about the Table. I like to think that I have a good, while largely undeveloped, theology of the Table. (It is a radically inclusive symbol, isn't it?) Even so, it's one thing for me to stand up in front of a sanctuary full of people that I know and love and invite them to the Table with me. It's another thing to really live out that invitation. How do I invite people to the Table when I'm not in the church building? (What does it mean to be "radically inclusive" in our culture?) Or even in the building--I don't mean to undermine the importance of inviting (not demanding) all people to participate in the ritual of taking communion.

I expect that seminary, if we do it right, will invite (or, perhaps more accurately, push) me to examine and deconstruct and analyze and interpret and reconstruct and present my own theology--one that is reformed and always reforming.

May it be so.

Oct. 2009 sermon, Covenant Community Church

Click on the title of this post to listen to the sermon I preached at my church in 2009.

Oct. 2009 Reflection #3, Covenant Community Church

Click on the title of this post to listen to a reflection that I shared with my church in 2009. This was the third part in a three-part series of reflections leading up to my sermon, which I will also post on this site.

Oct. 2009 Reflection #2, Covenant Community Church

Click on the title of this post to listen to a reflection that I shared with my church in 2009. This was the second part in a three-part series of reflections leading up to my sermon, which I will also post on this site.

Sept. 2009 Reflection #1, Covenant Community Church

Click on the title of this post to listen to a reflection that I shared with my church in 2009. This was the first part in a three-part series of reflections leading up to my sermon, which I will also post on this site.

God’s Timing (but on my watch)

One thing that feels "right" about going to seminary this fall is the timing. I feel ready for graduate school because I’m frustrated with where I find myself.

I'm frustrated because I feel like I know a little bit about a lot of things, but not enough to be able to make a difference in the world. Even "working for social justice" is a frustrating concept for me. Of course that's what we're all doing, right? Or at least what we’re called to do? And yet, I lack confidence in my ability to expound and reflect on why that is the path I’m choosing, let alone to actually walk it. I haven’t read the books. I haven’t participated in the (classroom) discussions. I haven’t done the research. In short, I haven’t done the work. And I feel called to do the work. In order to grow into my own becoming, to be a person who is engaged in the world, I need to do the work.

Here’s another way to think about it: I’m 26 years old. I’m college educated, and a critical thinker. I listen to NPR because I want to know what’s happening in my city, country and beyond those boarders. But—and this is in some ways related to my age—I haven’t found my niche yet. I care about “the world,” but that’s so vague. I’m frustrated because my passion for living in this world feels undefined in so many ways. I’m aware of the “big issues,” injustices that are so pervasive in most cultures that they often go unnamed. You know what I’m talking about: climate change, starvation, poverty, war, genocide, rape . . . I’m familiar with these concepts in broad, rather than particular terms.

That’s another way to frame this reflection: we participate in the universal by engaging in the particular. I see the universal, and it’s so damn big that it feels next to impossible to navigate, or influence it. How do we engage in our world? Through the particular. How do we know love? Through our relationships with particular people in our lives. How do we create change in our communities? Through grassroots movements. (I know the latter mostly by observing other people, and not as much from my own experience.) So, how can I “make love, not war” into a way of life, instead of a bumper sticker?

Short-term (or everyday) answers to that question include things like supporting my local coffee shop (like I am as I write this). Long-term answers? That’s the “what am I going to do with my life?” question. Attending LPTS* feels like the “medium-term” answer for me right now. The M.Div. is an intense, three-year program that “educate[s] men and women to participate in the redemptive ministry of Jesus Christ in the world,” from the website. To reframe, I see the M.Div. program as preparation for a particular way of engaging (“redeeming”) the world. For those who might not know, the Presbyterian Church—PC(USA)—is liberal compared to most other denominations. So, “redemptive ministry,” as I understand it, is not necessarily the same thing as witnessing to non-believers about accepting J.C. as their personal L&S.

". . . What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?" (Micah 6:8) Maybe it’s just the Presbyterians that I hang out with, but I understand that to be the mission statement of the Presbyterian denomination, and as the purpose of church in general. “To do justice” is easier for me to claim than the other two. “Loving kindness” is too cliché, and the part about God and humility is about God (and humility), so . . . that’s part of wrestling/struggling with God, for me. Or, maybe it’s the part that calls for deconstruction and reframing . . . I don’t know . . .

Put another way, I don’t believe half of this shit that is “church.” And, I believe in this shit (mess, whatever) that is “church.” I don’t believe that Jesus Christ is the answer to some all-important Life Question. Christ is called The Way—one of many, many valid ways or traditions or frameworks—one that describes how people called “Christians” choose to live in the world.

And I’m like, sorta kinda, almost, maybe, possibly ready to make that choice for myself. I mean, I think.

So, now’s a good time to go to seminary.

* Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminary

Discerning Seminary: The "Ministry Question"

On February 14, 2011, I submitted my application for admission to the Master of Divinity program at the Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminary. This blog entry marks the beginning of a series of reflections on pursuing a seminary education. I hope you'll read along..... feel free to throw some questions at me, like, "WTF?" or "what motivates you to go back to school, particularly in a theological setting?" You know, stuff like that.

*****

"What ministry do you feel called to?"

That's a question that I've heard from a few people since I announced my decision to apply to seminary. The question comes as a surprise to me; I'm almost startled by it. First of all, "ministry" is not a word that appears regularly in my vocabulary. It's worse than a dirty word; it's a church-y word, one of those words that is mired in negative connotations, or at least clouded by a vague sense of confusion and angst for me.

Ministry? Who, me? Let's get a few things out of the way up front: I've never been baptized, I don't aspire to go on a mission trip, and "ministry" is the kind of work that other people do. I don't mean to generalize about anyone. I just mean, anybody but me.

But after giving it some thought, I realize that I feel called to . . . uhhh . . . what was it . . . teach! Yeah, teach . . . college. Or, write. I'm called to teach and write theology. Or, work for a non-profit organization like the Kentucky Foundation for Women. Or, be a pastor? I don't know about that one. I know some pastors. They're cool and everything, but they work like, at a church. You know? Every day, that's what they do. I guess. Worse than that, they work for the church.

So, here's my answer to the ministry question. My "ministry" (passion) involves writing and maybe teaching and hopefully working to make the world a better place, especially for women and girls. Whew! I thought this discernment stuff was going to be hard! What's next?