2009 Life Lessons

School | The Great Picnic Debacle | Graduate School Lessons | The Jesuit Retreat Center | Reimagining Baptism | Kentucky Derby Pie

The Final Stretch in Seminary...

Spring 2009

Church History

Atonement in the Thought of Anselm of Canterbury and René Girard (final research paper)

I've not put the rest of my smaller essays for Church History up for this semester, but may at some point...

I also took some more classical Greek this semester and it was great!  Greek is a fun language, though it certainly took a lot of concentration to keep up with the verb system...

Summer 2009

Polity for the Universal Fellowship of Metropolitan Community Churches

Should Baptism be Required for Membership in the MCC?

Reinterpreting Baptism: an ongoing dialogue

Liturgical Theology

Reflections on the Essentials RED online coursework

An Ecumenical Liturgy for the Affirmation of Baptism

Behold!  What will come out?

And so I return from the black box known as seminary to write the Life Lessons of another year.  I've wrestled with whether to go back and attempt to fill out the three years prior to this one, but it's hard to figure out what I'd write.  There are plenty of reflections and papers that were written and posted in the past three years that point out the contours of what was going on.  Perhaps with more intervening time the most major changes will come into focus.  But I'm not holding my breath…

Graduation has been a freeing experience for me in many ways.  Though I still work in the seminary library, I've found that I can sympathize with the students and faculty as they go through the emotional pressures of another semester.  But I am SO GLAD that I'm not experiencing those patterns myself this year.  I'm done, baby!  And it feels good…

Looking back over 2009 I'm seeing a few big events that bear mentioning...

The Great Picnic Debacle

It all started out innocently enough.  The secretary of the Seminarian Community Council was making an announcement about the annual festivities with which we end our spring semester:

And with this announcement we were off and running.

Within an hour a faculty member responded by asking that we refer to this event in the future as a "barbeque" instead of using "the offensive term picnic."  I had no idea what was going on, so I started doing some web searches and discovered that there is an urban legend regarding the origin of the word picnic.  I checked the dictionary as well to make sure and wrote back privately to the faculty member in question, sharing what I had found and asking for other sources if I was missing the point.

The professor responded, implying that the Internet resources I had found were not credible and saying that she had expected better from me.

Emphasizing that it was students who found the word uncomfortable, she also let me know that this should be enough for our community not to use the word anymore.

And finally, the veracity of etymologies from dictionary sources created by the majority powers would, apparently, rarely reveal the true racist origins of a word…

What ensued was a tense time of hallway conversations, private email correspondences, accusations of racism, reactionary responses that clearly revealed splits in our community, and a breakdown in communication.

• A staff member, with a degree in French, pointed out that picnic originated in 17th century France and had nothing to do with lynchings.  She received private flame messages, framing her as a racist for pointing out what she'd learned.
• The professor who had lodged the original complaint suggested self-education on the matter through reading slave narratives and checking out the Smithsonian Institute.
• The Administration totally ducked the conversation, issuing no statements and providing no guidance.
• The head of the Committee on Diversity wrote one email calling for grace as we engaged in conversation.  He pointed out an article that ended by saying, though the word picnic did not originate with lynchings, it is certainly true that lynchings of blacks often took place "in picnic-like settings."
• Privately at least two contacts were made with the Smithsonian Institute for clarification, but the information received was not made part of the public debate.  One response was rather long, while the other was terse:
  "Claims that the word picnic is derogatory to African Americans are urban legend, and are totally false.  The origins and history of the word have nothing to do with African Americans or with lynching."
• One friend announced he didn't care whether the etymology of picnic was tied to lynching or not, he only cared that his friend was upset and so he wouldn't use the word anymore.

And yet, here we are…  unresolved and full of angst.  The word picnic didn't cause all of this; rather, it was a flashpoint in an already simmering cauldron of suspicion – suspicion that our school gives lip service to diversity without putting any real effort behind it; suspicion that ignorance and emotion will always trump over rational discussion when it comes to race; suspicion that the standards of academic rigor present in other institutions are totally absent in my alma mater.

Here's what I've learned out of this incident:

The word picnic first appeared in the French language as pique-nique sometime in the late-17th century.

Someone will always argue that words and symbols change meaning over time. Examples were raised like "faggot," "gay," "queer," and also the swastika.  But the problem here is this word has not been co-opted to this false meaning.  As such, the argument is spurious.  It seems that it would be better to disabuse the parties involved of their belief in an urban legend than to forfeit a word to ignorance.  If we give up, then whoever started this urban legend wins the day…

People who should know better are often silenced when issues of race enter the picture. I am a white, Southern man, as was was the chair of the Committee on Diversity.  If anyone should know whether Southern racists use the term "picnic" in relation to lynchings, it would probably be us.  God knows I've heard enough other racist bullshit in my lifetime.  Yet neither of us had heard of this before.

In an institution that makes such a big deal out of social context and personal experience as authorities, it would seem that our denial of the urban legends based on firsthand experience of growing up as part of the privileged of the South should count for something.

Knowledge in and of itself is insufficient to the task of education. What is often required is relationship. If I am viewed through the lens of suspicion as a member of the white hegemony that oppresses (and further as a Southern male with an agenda), then anything I say can easily be discounted.

My own ability to speak truth into a situation is either helped or hindered by my own relationships. In the incident with my friend who said he wouldn't use the word because his friend was upset, I discovered that our relationship was not strong enough to introduce facts into a heated dispute that instead was trumped by urban legends.

Underneath all of the conflict are deeper issues.  There are people who are hurting. And in the rush to set the linguistic record straight, it is imperative that we remember that how we handle this is important.  Knowledge without love is puffed up (or something to that effect it says in the Good Book).  How can we formulate pastoral responses that meet people where they are, at the same time that we seek to resist injustice and falsehood?

This still remains both an open question and a sore spot for many in the seminary community.

Graduate School Lessons

Since I set off on the road of seminary education, my intention has been to pursue PhD studies in theology with the goal of teaching either in a seminary or religion department in a university.

Preparation for these plans has been an ongoing process for a while now.  I had located a professor I wished to study under and cultivated a relationship, taken the GRE, written a ton of application materials, and visited Emory University, the school where my first-choice professor taught.

What followed I couldn't have predicted:

• The professor moved to a new school.
• The second professor I wanted to study with at Emory decided to retire.

I applied to Harvard as well, thinking I'd just follow the professor I wanted to study with.  But I hadn't anticipated that Harvard would have a totally different system.  Harvard Divinity School only takes ThD candidates with a prerequisite MDiv.  Instead, I had to apply to the PhD program through the Study of Religion program.  Though Religion and the Divinity School share faculty, my contact was a part of the Divinity School with no voice in the selection committee in the Religion program.

Harvard sent out my rejection letter at the end of February, while Emory's letter followed at the beginning of March.  My safety school (Vanderbilt) sent an email on the same day as Emory.  I was out of the running for the year…

If anyone out there is thinking about a doctoral program in theology, take heed of these lessons:

GRE scores and GPA are not enough. My GRE verbal score was in the 98^th percentile and I graduated from seminary with a perfect 4.0.  When it comes to doctoral applications, that doesn't really make me stick out in the pack.

For some schools, what masters degree you have is very important. Many schools draw distinctions between a Master of Arts (MA, AM), a Master of Arts in Religion (MAR), and a Master of Divinity (MDiv).  Figure out early which degree opens the most doors for your prospective schools.  Don't assume it's the MDiv, which requires an extra year of study that is geared to parish ministry and may not serve your particular goals.

Avoid putting all your eggs in one basket. For any prospective school, try to cultivate relationships with at least two members full faculty members in your chosen area of study.  Read the website first and identify potential contacts.  But once you've made contact with one professor, ask her for tips about other faculty members who share your interests.

Prepare contingencies. If one of the professors you wish to study with is preparing a career change, you may not find out until the change is occurring.  It's better to know who else might share your interests or whether you should abandon a school if a professor is no longer there.

Make face-to-face contacts. Graduate programs receive a great number of blind applications from candidates who have never stepped foot on their campuses.  If you're going to spend five or more years of your life somewhere, better to travel and make sure you're going to like it there.

If at first you don't succeed, try, try again… I wasn't thrilled with not getting into grad school on my first attempt, but I've found that the attempt was worthwhile.  It helped me to focus more on what I want and to prepare differently this year.

And now for some unconventional wisdom…

Make sure you can study what you want at the schools you choose. It's your life, your time, your talents and treasures that you're pouring into graduate education.  You can go to great name school, but if it's not where you want to be and it doesn't match your interests, then chances are it won't be a happy time.

Getting into the doctoral program you want includes a multitude of factors that are beyond your control. From faculty politics behind the scenes, to departmental budgets, to this year's new emphasis on postcolonial theology in Oceania and Tibetan Buddhist/Roman Catholic interfaith dialogue (yes, that's a bit flip), there are factors in competition with your application.  This is yet another presentation of the lesson:  It's not all about you.

God remains constant. Three years of seminary, a total deconstruction and new synthesis of my core beliefs, and this one is still there.  In the face of overwhelming odds (or even having the deck stacked in your favor), the one factor that often gets overlooked is God's purpose for our lives.

Now I'm not suggesting a fatalistic approach – by all means, work like it depends on you.  But praying like it depends on God isn't such a bad idea either.  If we approach our career goals and our education asking that God show us the desires of our hearts, I firmly believe that we'll end up where we need to be… as long as we're open to hearing.  After all, sometimes that drive for grad school at any price may be a mediated desire instilled either through marketing or through dreams of attaining what our favorite professors appear to have…

The Jesuit Retreat Center

I suppose this might make an excellent segue to talk about my eight-day silent retreat at the Jesuit Center in Wernersville, PA.

I was sitting in the History of Christianity II, discussing Ignatius of Loyola and his spiritual exercises for discernment when something in me stirred.  Three years of seminary, the constant reworking of belief, the demands of papers and projects while working a fulltime job…  I was suddenly struck by the total lack of silence for reflection over the past three years.  And St. Ignatius' exercises seemed somehow enticing.

It turns out that there is a Jesuit retreat center not far from here.  True confessions:  I didn't hear part of the discussion in history class that unfolded next.  I was on the Internet looking up the Jesuit Center and discovering their retreats.  Within days I had booked an eight-day silent retreat from the end of June.

Now I wasn't sure I could actually be quiet for eight days.  The prospect was daunting, and at the same time it seemed so welcoming.  As it turned out, it wasn't hard to be quiet after all.  True, I did find a bench under a tree one time, far away from the retreat house, and sing praise songs in worship for a while.  But otherwise, the silence was wonderfully filled with meaning.  And in that silence, the voice of God was clear and strong.

The first thing to arise on the trip was a desire to explore joining a larger communion.  For anyone who missed that, I began very consciously thinking about whether I would like to become either Roman Catholic or Eastern Orthodox.  I can't say that it was the atmosphere that did it.  Rather, this was a question that had been lingering somewhere at the edge of my consciousness for a long time.  It came to the surface in the daily practice of the liturgy.

Contrary to the name, the silent retreat actually has an hour of talking with a spiritual director each day.  During that time Sister Barbara and I discussed the scriptures I'd been contemplating and talked about what was coming up in my prayer times.  In addition to the regular sessions, I also had an extra hour with Sister Barbara and a follow-up session with Father Bill to discuss this pull towards the older orders of Christianity.

They didn't proselytize.  They didn't suggest one would be better than the other.  They simply asked questions and allowed me to explain and explore what I was feeling.  In the end, Father Bill suggested that I spend some time in each tradition to see firsthand what I thought.  He also loaned me a book, Understanding Catholicism by the late Monika Hellwig.  We agreed that I would read it and that Fr. Bill and I would talk further.  The book turns out to be a systematic theology from the Roman Catholic perspective.  And it's fascinating…

I've visited two local Roman Catholic churches since July and have noticed the folks in my life that are linked to Catholicism…  James Alison came to the seminary in November and I spent a couple of days talking with him.  An old friend, Chris, had once tried the religious orders, but instead had settled into a more secular mode of ministry.  My professor, David, had been a Roman Catholic priest.  Several of my friends in seminary have experiences with the Roman Catholic church that have shaped them and given them a respect for the this tradition.  Interestingly, almost all of these folks are also queer.  And each has experienced his or her own struggles with how the tradition treats LGBT folk.

The Orthodox churches are a harder nut to crack.  Locally there is only a Greek Orthodox church that is steeped in Greek culture with which I have little in common.  There is an Antiochian church in the next county over, but I haven't gone yet.  Several times I have visited the Ukrainian Orthodox church about 45 minutes from here, but that's a long trip…

More will have to develop here.  But I have to admit that the nationalism and "one true church" mentality of many Eastern Orthodox adherents is a real turnoff to me.  Still, I love the aesthetic and the feeling of ancient tradition.

The time among the Jesuits also left me with a clearer feeling that I have been created in a way that defies many of the standard molds.  In the past I've looked at this as a defect, but now I begin to see it more and more as a gift.  For many years I have been variously accused of being all in my head and not in my heart or of intellectualizing the spiritual.  But I've come to understand that, for me, the dichotomy of intellect and spirit is a false one.  And it is to the glory of God that I constantly turn the tradition in my head, making unlikely connections and coming to unusual insights.  I'm not the only one who does such things.  It just seems that there aren't a lot of those folks at hand…

Reimagining Baptism

For a great deal of this past year I've been working through the sacrament of Baptism.  And while that work still continues, I have at least come to one understanding that I think I'm ready to share…

While I was raised in a tradition that places Baptism before Communion, I am more and more convinced that this practice, while traceable to a very early phase in Church development, is backwards…

The Gospels tell us that Jesus spent time at table with a lot of folks that the religious authorities of his day deemed unfit.  Whether eating with sinners or sharing fish and loaves with thousands on a hillside, he didn't draw up covenants first and then eat with folks later.  Both Luke and John tell us that the disciples themselves only received the Holy Spirit after Jesus had been resurrected.  So what's with closed communion and the baptism requirement?

The first reference I can find is in the Didache:

You must not let anyone eat or drink of your Eucharist except those baptized in the Lord's name.  For in reference to this the Lord said, "Do not give what is sacred to dogs."  Didache 9:5

This early teaching, commonly referred to as "The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles," comes from the early Church period.  Some claim it to have been written as early as 70-90 CE, while others contend that it was produced sometime in the second century.  In either case, the document comes from the period of the persecuted church before Christianity became a sanctioned religion.  It is the product of believers who faced the threat of death and were wary of outsiders.

Couple this with the dynamic of forming group identity as a reaction over and against an other, and what we have is a first- or second-century tract that includes passages seeking to forge identity through the creation of an inner group who can participate in the Lord's Supper as opposed to those who cannot.  Further, this teaching seeks to validate itself through scriptural authority by taking Matthew 6:8 (another text produced by an early church facing persecution) out of context.

In the end, I propose a simple exercise:

Imagine that you are a fly on the wall at the Last Supper.  Jesus and the disciples are settling in for the meal.  (I suspect that more than the 12 are present, as 13 men in that day were probably not going to take care of dinner by themselves…)  Just before dinner begins, a knock is heard at the door…

Do they ignore it?  Do they get up and turn away the visitor?  What does the Jesus of the gospels do when someone comes knocking at the door at the Passover feast?

The only answer I can come up with, based on my understanding of the scriptures, tradition, and my own "encounters" with the living Christ would be that the Table has room for the guest.

In my own understanding, Christ calls us to "taste and see" before asking us to make any commitments.  But once we are drawn into the fellowship, to the feast that points toward a different future, then we become stewards of the Table even as we make the decision to become disciples.

As stewards of the feast, we are commanded to enter into the streets and invite everyone to the banquet.  Matthew's parable of the feast tells us that the Master will sort out those who come to the wedding banquet in proper attire and those who show up in dishonor (Matthew 22:11-14).  But Luke's retelling of the story doesn't even include that caveat.  Rather the master simply states that those who are invited but choose not to come will not taste the dinner (Luke 14:24).

My intention is to blog more on baptism in the days to come as I work out various elements for an essay I'm writing on the subject for the MCC.  But this was the core lesson that started me on that path.

Kentucky Derby Pie

I began writing this year's lessons in December, while baking for the upcoming celebration.  I was determined to stay clear of Christmas commercialism.  Instead, I opted to spend Christmas in Maryland with neo-pagan friends.  I felt Jesus' incarnational presence through friendship, food, and conversation much more so than in any Christmas church service I've been to lately.

I leave you with this recipe for Kentucky Derby pie that I used to bring some joy to our gathering.  Enjoy!

Ingredients:

• 1 cup granulated sugar
• 4 tablespoons melted butter
• 3 eggs, slightly beaten
• 3/4 cup light corn syrup
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 2 tablespoons Kentucky Bourbon
• 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla
• 1/2 cup chopped pecans
• 1/2 cup semisweet chocolate chips
• 1 unbaked 9-inch pie shell

Preparation:

In a mixing bowl, cream sugar and butter. Add eggs, corn syrup, salt, bourbon, and vanilla. Mix on low speed of mixer until blended. Spread pecans and chocolate chips in bottom of the prepared pie shell. Pour filling over nuts and chocolate chips. Place foil over the edge of the pie crust to avoid premature browning.  Bake in preheated 375° oven for about 45 minutes.  Remove foil from crust and bake for about 5 more minutes.

May 2010 be as sweet as the last days of 2009...

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