tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27357172066984454952024-03-12T20:52:07.777-07:00Life in seminary:Reflections from a girl trying to figure out what religion means in her life and world.Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-56169949292977861482010-05-13T07:02:00.001-07:002010-05-13T07:03:02.330-07:00New website!Check out my new website:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.summercushman.com">www.summercushman.com</a>Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-46153163036094474492010-05-13T06:55:00.000-07:002010-05-13T06:59:17.606-07:00Ta-da!<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvdYQJY-teNEfzyma47axVW__d9hBK__C636fRtJ7gTVJcXTSupy7ugKIFyWQBCTwvg7IxzBe5ZlzveXL_7Q9-4n1lVS9Jr8-hYZPO_wnpcXYemTZ6F4_Y-58dDTYxwYeV5k2BLnd7tLme/s1600/graduation.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvdYQJY-teNEfzyma47axVW__d9hBK__C636fRtJ7gTVJcXTSupy7ugKIFyWQBCTwvg7IxzBe5ZlzveXL_7Q9-4n1lVS9Jr8-hYZPO_wnpcXYemTZ6F4_Y-58dDTYxwYeV5k2BLnd7tLme/s320/graduation.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470753538423707202" border="0" /></a>I did it! Phew, what a journey...<br /></div>Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-86000470746757599152009-09-21T13:52:00.000-07:002009-09-21T13:54:48.419-07:00TransitionWith my move to Lafayette, I am officially an online learner. It's really lonely. It's hard to stay motivated. I need to get better at a schedule.<br /><br />I have several papers I need to post from work over the summer... I'll get to them eventually.Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-82178415214538927112009-06-10T11:35:00.000-07:002010-07-29T11:10:06.098-07:00A Wobbly, Distorted Bridge Between Inside and OutThis was my final project for "Spirituality and the Body." The introduction echoes my theology of the body, but moves in a new direction. I examined several artist self-portraits, but I didn't want to post the images here because of copyright trouble, so I gave you links. My final version of this project was turned in as an artist's book. Wish I could convey that through the blogosphere somehow...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Introduction:</span><br /><br />I stand in the bathroom, naked. I look down and see my feet, my legs, my belly, my breasts. I look in the mirror and I see my face. I hold my hand up to my face and run my fingers over my bones, my eye sockets, my cheeks, my jaw. I hold my hand out in front of my face for examination. I see my palm directly in front of me and the back of my hand in the mirror. I again hold my hand to my face. I look at my eyes and lips, my nose. I realize I will never gaze directly upon my face. I will only know it through reflection. I will live my entire life without the ability to actually see my own face.<br /><br />I look out and see the world. I see the faces of others. I gaze upon the face of my beloved and my beloved gazes upon my face. I am known by my face. In so many ways I am my face. Yet, I will never truly see my face. This inability—this lack—is disturbing. It is an irresolvable unknowing akin only to the perpetual unknowing I feel in relation to God. I am not like Hagar who asked, “Have I really seen God and remained alive?” (Gen 16:13) or Jacob who said, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved.” (Gen 32:30) or Moses who’s face used to shine after speaking face to face with God (Ex 33 and Ex 34). Unlike these three, I have not seen God. I feel more truth in the contradictory verse, “you cannot see my face; for no one shall see me and live” (Ex 33:20). I cannot see God’s face or I will die. I cannot see my face because it’s a physical impossibility. My lack is amplified. I am unable to fully know myself. I am unable to fully know God.<br /><br />In order to experience the reality of my existence, however, I must respond in some way to this unknowing. If I don’t respond, I run the risk of disappearing—of losing myself. So I hold dearly to the fact that there is something I know. I know I am an embodied human being. In the first few passages of Genesis there is a discussion regarding the creation of human beings: “Then God said, ‘Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness’…So God created humankind in God’s image, in the image of God, God created them; male and female God created them” (Gen 1:26-27). There are also specific details in the story about how human bodies were created: “Then the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man became a living being” (Gen 2:7). God caused a deep sleep to come over this living being and removed a rib from the sleeping flesh. “And the rib that the Lord God had taken from the man he made into a woman” (Gen 2:22a). This story is the work of someone from thousands of years ago. Someone who wrestled with the same questions I’m wrestling with today. The conclusion this person came to—that of a God breathing into the dust and raising up a being in the likeness of God—is overwhelmingly beautiful. I am happy to imagine myself as a combination of dust and bone and holy breath. I also appreciate the possibility that through the exploration of my image, I might come closer to an understanding of God’s image. Through the exploration of myself, I might meet God.<br /><br />So where do I look? How do I begin my exploration? Certainly every time I make statements such as “I am a woman / I am married / I am an artist / I am religious” I am striving for self-knowing, for self-identification. But can any of these statements or even a combination of them explain who I truly am? How do I go deeper, beyond superfluous descriptions? How do I reach my internal self? I’m not sure I can, but I know how to try. Just like the writer of Genesis, I have to think about creation and I have to be creative. Throughout the span of human existence, human beings have worked to understand the mystery of being through acts of creation. Human beings write autobiographies, draw, paint, sculpt and photograph themselves. We record images of our bodies moving and the sound of our voices speaking. We take pencils in our hands and make marks on pieces of paper in an attempt to make our inner thoughts become external visual reality. We stare at the reflection of parts of our bodies in the mirror; we can never see ourselves in entirety. We touch our skin and watch our muscles move. We try to figure out who we are. We strive to unite our internal and external selves—our fragmented self.<br /><br />Through the creation of self-portraits, humans are given an opportunity to ask questions of themselves and then to work at expressing something of what they learn internally to the external world. Self portraiture is a form of communication. We communicate with ourselves throughout the act of creating and we communicate with others as they view our creation. We work at achieving the impossible—the unification of our internal and external selves. We look at our finished product, whether written or painted or something else, and know that we have failed. But hopefully we feel closer. Hopefully we can recognize that we have gained something from the search, that we have built a wobbly, distorted bridge between inside and out. Then we decide how to react to our creation—our bridge to better self knowledge. Are we like God in the book of Genesis who over and over again paused to notice goodness? God called the creation good. This recognition indicates the possibility that it could have been otherwise. After the creation of humanity, “God saw everything that God had made, and indeed, it was very good” (Gen 2:31a).<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Six Self-Portraits Examined:</span><br /><a href="http://employees.oneonta.edu/farberas/arth/images/arth_214images/durer/durer_selfportraits/durer_man_sorrows.jpg"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Albrecht Durer (1471-1528) </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> The Man of Sorrows, 1522 </span></a><br /><br />In this portrait Durer shows a vulnerability usually absent in his self-<br />portraits. I am more familiar with the forward facing, beautifully draped<br />body with focused eyes that he painted in 1500. In this metal point<br />drawing, I am able to see thinning hair, slouching shoulders, downcast<br />eyes and bare skin. I see something of the way Durer understood<br />himself at the age of 51, five year before he died. His mouth is slightly<br />ajar; his belly is relaxed. His eyes don’t attempt contact with the viewer<br />but they are clearly focused. His brows furrow in a way that<br />communicate deep concentration. But what is he thinking? This is<br />where the bridge that he built for himself through the creation of this<br />work falls apart for me. I cannot cross it. The drawing is for him. I am<br />left on the outside, unable to understand anything more than glimpses of<br />the internal world of Durer. I wonder what he learned through the<br />making of it? Did the dreams of the man from 1500 come true for the<br />man in 1522?<br /><br /><a href="http://www.theartgallery.com.au/arteducation/greatartists/rembrandt/selfportrait1652/sportrait1652.jpg"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rembrandt van Rijn (1606-1669) </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Self Portrait, 1652 </span></a><br /><br />Rembrandt created over 70 self portraits. He drew them, he etched<br />them, he painted them. They span decades of his life. What was he<br />searching for as he repeatedly studied his own face? After taking a 7-<br />year hiatus from self portraits, Rembrandt painted this one in 1652. His<br />face glows out from the picture plane and his eyes look directly at the<br />viewer. His hands are on his hips and he is dressed casually; one would<br />guess he’s wearing his everyday working clothes. I get the sense that I’ve<br />just interrupted him and that he is waiting somewhat impatiently for an<br />explanation regarding my intrusion. He seems to be daring me to speak.<br />But maybe he’s not looking at the viewer at all. Maybe he’s staring down<br />his own reflection and calling himself back into the internal conversation<br />he’d been ignoring for seven years. He looks confident and inquisitive,<br />but worn down. What prompted him to return to himself as subject?<br />What is he asking himself through his searching, tired eyes?<br /><a href="http://www.new-york-art.com/schiele-1-Self-Portrait.jpg"><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Egon Schiele (1890-1918) </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Self Portrait With Arm Twisted Above Head, 1910 </span></a><br /><br />Following the call of Emily Dickenson, I believe that Egon Schiele tells<br />the truth, but tells it slant. Here he presents his body distorted, with<br />bones larger than life. The combination of his massive back and<br />protruding lower ribs suggest that his entire torso is rocking. His face<br />and elbow, portrayed here as roughly the same size, line up on either<br />side of his lengthened, straight arm. His fingers are stretched; his body<br />is elongated. He was 20-years old when he painted this image of himself.<br />Who did he imagine himself to be? His eyes look straight out, but at<br />what the viewer has no way of knowing. He looks angry, but also slightly<br />in pain. He is somehow simultaneously emaciated and exaggerated. Did<br />he feel both confidence and insecurity? This self portrait offers clues<br />about Schiele’s self perception. But on a much deeper level, it helps me<br />to understand my own self perception. Don’t I also have confidence and<br />insecurity? Don’t I also feel both emaciation and exaggeration in my life?<br />Through his self exploration, Schiele prompts me towards my own.<br /><br /><a href="http://media.photobucket.com/image/Kathe%20Kollwitz%20Self%20Portrait,%201938/oscar2k/Arte/kollwitz-self-portrait-right-1938.jpg"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Kathe Kollwitz (1867-1945) </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Self Portrait, 1938 </span></a><br /><br />Kathe Kollwitz is someone who spent years documenting human<br />suffering in a way that showed how keen her attention was. Kollwitz<br />truly saw the suffering. This self portrait, painted seven years before her<br />death, emphasizes the weight of this knowledge within her body. She is<br />standing, looking at the world in front of her, a world that is not<br />available to the viewer. Her hands are clasped behind her back and it<br />seems as though she has just exhaled. Her posture is casual; she looks<br />content in the moment. Yet the entire image exudes heaviness. Her face<br />is shaded, the light source is at her back. Her body melts into itself,<br />there are only a few shadows that separate her arm from her torso.<br />Everything about her form is soft, her belly and neck, even her eyebrow.<br />This portrait seems to accomplish the impossible—to expose the internal<br />externally. Sitting with this image of Kollwitz, I begin to breath more<br />slowly and to feel heavier. I am saddened, but not made anxious. Her<br />image communicates knowing and acceptance. She has seen what she<br />has seen and offered what she could. For this self portrait she turned<br />her awareness inward and stands before the viewer completely exposed.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.artchive.com/artchive/k/kahlo/loose_hair.jpg"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Frida Kahlo (1907-1959) </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Self-Portrait with Loose Hair, 1947 </span></a><br /><br />Frida Kahlo painted several self portraits. She spent her lifetime<br />wrestling with questions of identity. In this painting she combines the<br />visual image with the written word. It seems she didn’t want to leave any<br />unanswered questions. She tells us that she used a mirror to get her<br />likeness, her age, the date and her location. She elaborates on where<br />she is, explaining that this is the city of her birth. Kahlo is clearly trying<br />to communicate something specific with this work. Yet her eyes are<br />oddly detached. She seems sucked inward, unaware of anything going<br />on around her. It’s as if she needs the lettered sign in order to<br />communicate with a passerby, as if she fears she wouldn’t notice them.<br />The painting is a contradiction. On one hand she says here I am, plain<br />as day. But as the viewer tries to look, tries to see, they realize she’s<br />gone. All she actually offers is a dazed stare. The exploration and<br />communication is happening internally. The external world is only<br />given a few distractions, a few obvious descriptions.<br /><br /><a href="http://media2.moma.org/collection_images/resized/400/w155h170/CRI_67400.jpg"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Kiki Smith (b. 1954) </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Free Fall, 1994 </span></a><br /><br />This print invites the viewer to participate. In fact, we have no choice.<br />By opening the book and unfolding the print, the viewer “drops” the<br />artist. We participate in her fall. Her eyes are closed; she doesn’t seem<br />fearful. But what should our reaction be? Can we catch her, keep her in<br />perpetual free fall or should we fold her back up and not worry about<br />her any longer? Kiki Smith refuses to allow the viewer a simple window<br />into herself. She’s making a bargain with her audience. She’s willing to<br />expose herself, to explore creation through her body. But the audience<br />is not allowed to simply become voyeurs on her journey. We are forced<br />to react and respond. Will we keep the book closed?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">My self-portrait:<br />Myself in Pieces, 2009 (abbreviated)<br /><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyqvwrPlnspJSfH3FsxLEnjeyF5zxuO-leXRn1qgaGPmIh5ncbRN163QtJLwlGf9Fj-g3x7lj0nGERWs6NKECNFb2gPeX11Vzkts9ZwNMOy22FuN79YLYFCiDbGkzRxLC9oaepZaWUpDzn/s1600-h/DSC05981.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyqvwrPlnspJSfH3FsxLEnjeyF5zxuO-leXRn1qgaGPmIh5ncbRN163QtJLwlGf9Fj-g3x7lj0nGERWs6NKECNFb2gPeX11Vzkts9ZwNMOy22FuN79YLYFCiDbGkzRxLC9oaepZaWUpDzn/s320/DSC05981.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347605272521467794" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqcNwSctzKqaxKoXSIA93R0erOShD6X0XBF1XEF3TsaDS9GTXgeFpKciJFvhoE6eguDniamW35vzGBbJgheW3-wPhYZy835qIOQOc-4bfjdF6L34gVhreoDPn6UGztcAHLnpVPVWkqaSEV/s1600-h/DSC05975.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqcNwSctzKqaxKoXSIA93R0erOShD6X0XBF1XEF3TsaDS9GTXgeFpKciJFvhoE6eguDniamW35vzGBbJgheW3-wPhYZy835qIOQOc-4bfjdF6L34gVhreoDPn6UGztcAHLnpVPVWkqaSEV/s320/DSC05975.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345775472510365874" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqh2Cxrm3Np_5eSgSO1_FkDBcLJp-kuN8-mP2NYuEDAW2UVDB2uc85x3bo3wEkz_8Efp6Wn1nyC7dlAkmLW0SMdXuabo0y5b-i0WpmGRhArOc5GevKw5REn8Dcxn2FEG142oeNRTFRPCWi/s1600-h/DSC05950.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqh2Cxrm3Np_5eSgSO1_FkDBcLJp-kuN8-mP2NYuEDAW2UVDB2uc85x3bo3wEkz_8Efp6Wn1nyC7dlAkmLW0SMdXuabo0y5b-i0WpmGRhArOc5GevKw5REn8Dcxn2FEG142oeNRTFRPCWi/s320/DSC05950.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345775786923065026" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioeJY6XI1f-sggpq2jo-i0YualsES99aHo-pGVhS4-cRVZH6Dl7J22xALNvLpHgDP8CqRKxVzmt7ArdCbOtuA18GXFXvGH5H6H7dN6crs-SFKW0a3iqHTaLoRa38gJisW1D_9qJJ1EUtRy/s1600-h/DSC05911.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioeJY6XI1f-sggpq2jo-i0YualsES99aHo-pGVhS4-cRVZH6Dl7J22xALNvLpHgDP8CqRKxVzmt7ArdCbOtuA18GXFXvGH5H6H7dN6crs-SFKW0a3iqHTaLoRa38gJisW1D_9qJJ1EUtRy/s320/DSC05911.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345775651994626130" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lB0CJYqJZzg/SjADMceNTQI/AAAAAAAAAIA/9q-jkfyV_0A/s1600-h/DSC05936.JPG"><br /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Conclusion:</span><br /><br />Here I stand on the other side of looking; on the other side of a wobbly, distorted bridge between inside and out. I know that I am fragmented. I cannot look completely upon my own body, yet I cannot escape my body. I’ve learned that my inner and outer lives are more connected than I am always able to feel. But I also know that I can separate myself into parts. Here are my toes; here is my stomach. Here is my joy and pain. Here is what you see. But here is what you don’t see. My guts hold more knowledge than I have ever given them credit for. I tend to give my mind all the credit. Science has taught me that the brain controls most (or is it all?) of my functioning and so I ignore the other pieces of myself. If I think I am my brain, shouldn’t I also think that I am my knee? But I could survive without a knee, couldn’t I? But would I be the same? The mystery of my being grows larger. I am learning that I will understand far less of myself than I will ever know. But—and here’s the rub—mystery would mean nothing if it didn’t contain at least something that can be grabbed. The more I look at and try to understand the reality of existence, the more I realize the importance of these little moments of knowing, these handles. Every time I find a handle—the feeling of truth in my guts—I have the urge to follow the instructions given to Moses in the book of Exodus: “Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground (Ex 3:5). Of course, I have to remember that before Moses was told to take off his shoes, he was told “Come no closer!” (Ex 3:5). In other words, I may find handles, but I won’t find definitive answers. So I take fragments of knowledge when they come and I bless them. According to the imagination of an ancient writer I am dust and bones and holy breath. I am made in the image of a God who said, “I Am Who I Am” (Ex 3:14). I know myself to be an embodied being fully alive and capable of contemplating mystery. In the image of the God of Exodus, I too can say, I am who I am.Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-44366385484535498462009-03-14T07:23:00.000-07:002009-03-14T07:32:27.689-07:00Foundational Theology of the BodyIn my <span style="font-style: italic;">Spirituality and the Body</span> class we have been reading theologies written from an embodied perspective. We are now attempting to write our own. Over the second half of the semester we will add sections on sexuality and healing. Here is my attempt at a beginning:<br /><br /><br />I stand in the bathroom, naked. I look down and see my feet, my legs, my belly, my breasts. I look in the mirror and I see my face. I hold my hand up to my face and run my fingers over my bones, my eye sockets, my cheeks, my jaw. I hold my hand out in front of my face and examine my palm closely. I can see my palm directly and the reflection of the top of my hand in the mirror. I again hold my hand to my face. I look at the reflection of my eyes and lips, my nose. I realize, I will never gaze directly upon my face. I will only know it through reflection. I will live my entire life without the ability to actually see my own face.<br /> <br />I look out and see the world. I see the faces of others. I gaze upon the face of my beloved and my beloved gazes upon my face. I am known by my face. In so many ways I am my face. Yet, I will never truly <span style="font-style: italic;">see</span> my face. This inability—this lack—is disturbing. It is an irresolvable unknowing akin only to the perpetual unknowing I feel in relation to God. Unlike Hagar who asked, “Have I really seen God and remained alive?” (Gen 16:13) or Jacob who said, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved.” (Gen 32:30) or Moses who’s face used to shine after speaking face to face with God (Ex 33 and Ex 34)—I have not seen God. I feel more truth in the contradictory verse, “you cannot see my face; for no one shall see me and live” (Ex 33:20). I cannot see God or I will die. I cannot see my face because it’s a physical impossibility. My lack is amplified. I am unable to fully know myself. I am unable to fully know God. This unknowing leads to disbelief. Because I am unable to see God, to fully know God, I am unable to fully believe in God. I must, however, believe in myself even without the benefit of being able to see myself in full. I cannot see my face, yet I look out <span style="font-style: italic;">from</span> my face. I live my life—my embodied life—able to see the face of another, able to see in them, what they will never see in themselves. This is how I know that all of life is connected. We must help fill the lack for each other. We must help each other make the irresolvable unknowing more bearable. We must gaze upon each other’s faces and help to fill in the unknowable gaps, even though we will never succeed. We must spend our lives doing something we will never be able to do. We must try and help the Other see their own face. We must try to see our own face with the help of an Other.<br /><br />This attempt to help each other bear what we cannot know is what it means to be faithful. Life itself is an unknowing. Why do we live? What do our lives mean? Why must we die? These are the unanswerable questions that humanity has struggled with since the first life was mysteriously, miraculously lived. The hugeness of this unknowing reminds me that my life—my existence—is but one small piece in the fantastically large story of humanity. My body is but one small unit in a vast cosmos. This smallness, my smallness, serves as a constant reminder that I can only know what my body can see, feel, smell, touch, and hear . The story of my life is the story of my body. I only know life through my body. My life began when my body was born and it will end when my body dies. If I lose my leg, I won’t be able to walk. If I lose my hand, I won’t be able to grab. If my heart stops beating, my life ends. I am my body—I will only ever know an embodied life.<br /><br />The Christian church teaches that there is more, that life will continue after my body dies. I’ve tried in vain to believe this. Like so many people I don’t want to accept my own mortality. Death—the death of my body, of myself—is terrifying. I don’t understand it and I want to stop it from happening. I’ve seen the bodies of my great-grandparents grow small and weak. I’ve seen them lose control over their basic bodily functions. I’ve witnessed their minds slip away from them. I gazed upon their lifeless bodies once death had overtaken them. I don’t know what death means or what happens to people as they die. What do our bodies feel in the exact moment of death—are we even aware of it? St. Paul struggled desperately with these same questions in the 15th chapter of 1 Corinthians. He realized something about embodiment. He knew that life is embodied and he could not imagine it any other way: “What I am saying, brothers and sisters, is this: flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. Listen, I will tell you a mystery! We will not all die, but we will all be changed” (1 Cor 15:50-51). He continues, “the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For this perishable body must put on imperishability, and this mortal body must put on immortality” (1 Cor 15:52-53). Once this change—the putting of imperishability and immortality onto our bodies—is accomplished, Paul can ask triumphantly, “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” (1 Cor 15:55). He then reminds us that because of the victory over death given through Christ, our labor is not in vain. Paul believed that we could beat death.<br /><br />I applaud Paul’s wrestling; I adore Paul’s poetry. I appreciate that he recognized that we are flesh and blood and that he imagined victory over death to mean that we would somehow remain embodied. But I cannot see what he saw. I cannot believe what he believed. I have not witnessed any human ability to beat death. I do, however, agree with Paul that our labor is not in vain. We disagree on why this is so, but we agree that it is. Because I can’t know that there is anything more to life than my current, relatively short-lived embodied existence, I value every last minute. This is all that I have, all that I can be positive of ever having. Therefore, I must do my best to make sure my life is well lived. And I must work hard <span style="font-style: italic;">in this lifetime</span> to ensure that everyone else around me—who I see in the faces of others—are also able to live their embodied lives well. I follow the request of Paul to the Philippians:<br /><br />Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things…and the God of peace will be with you. (Phil 4:8-9)<br /><br />This one embodied life matters. It should by this point be clear that I am somewhat of a pragmatist, a realist. Like doubting Thomas, I doubt. I need to touch; I need to stick my hands in incarnation in order to know what is real. But if I ended this description of myself here, I would be guilty of flattening reality. For while I desperately need to see and feel and hear and smell and taste, I believe this need for tangible reality only masks the root of a painful irresolvable lack deep within myself. My embodiment reminds me every day that I am weak. Because my body is fragile, my life is fragile—I am fragile. And I admit that I, like Paul, desperately want more. I too want strength; I too want life everlasting. <br /> <br />And so I create. I use my body to enlarge myself and my small place within the universe through the act of creation. I paint pictures and grow tomatoes. I paint in order to pay attention. The physical act of putting paint on a canvas requires the physical act of looking. In order to know what to paint, I must constantly pay attention to the world around me—both its ugliness and its beauty. I grow tomatoes, as well as tulips, to better comprehend the cyclical aspect of my existence. The metaphor is overused and obvious, but real. Watching seeds and bulbs transform into vegetables and flowers that will both thrive and die teaches me the cycle of my own life. I too want life everlasting, and so I horde. I fill my memory banks with images, sounds and sensations. I desperately try to gain more and more knowledge of what it means to be alive, to breath and to think. I use my nose to smell the saltiness of the ocean. I use my hands to feel the skin of my beloved. I use my mind to memorize important places and events. I remember what life has meant before I came into existence and I dream about what life will mean after I am gone. I too want life everlasting, and so I make sure that I am real. I need the attention and validation of others. I need people in my life who can do what I will never be able to do—actually see my face. I impose my life on them and take of their lives. In other words, I need to know that my life matters in the life of an Other. I need to share words with them; I need to give to them and receive from them touch, protection and support. I need to share with them what we all experience, the perpetual lack caused by irresolvable unknowing. I too want life everlasting, and so I remember to never let the mysterious, miraculous fact of existence—with all its ambiguity and unknowing—move too far from my daily awareness. I practice the spiritual disciplines of paying attention and being grateful. I work at focusing not on death, but on life.<br /> <br />The limited knowledge I am allowed as an embodied person makes me a practical doubter—yes. But it also constantly reminds me of the miracle that <span style="font-style: italic;">I am</span>. Exodus 3:14 reads, “God said to Moses, “I AM WHO I AM.” He said further, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘I AM has sent me to you.’” Read in the light of the mystery of existence, this verse answers so many questions. I AM—I AM. This is True. I have no choice but to reconcile with the fact of my weakness and death. But I must equally learn to reconcile the fact of my actuality. I am real, my body is real. My body is mortal and mysterious, I am mortal and mysterious. I am a miracle, my body is a miracle. I am a real, mysterious, dying miracle. I AM.Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-20571942452184482162009-01-24T14:30:00.000-08:002009-01-26T09:23:49.131-08:00Part of my many scholarship applications...trying to get my 3rd year covered!Summer Cushman<br />Thomas J. Mullen Scholarship Application<br />Essay #2:<br />An essay of not less than 1250 words in which the applicant reflects upon her or his personal spiritual formation during their time at ESR.<br /><br />I came to Earlham School of Religion confused and skeptical. I admit this is probably out of the ordinary and I also admit that I wasn’t able to express these feelings at the time. Throughout my first year, specifically in classes like Spiritual Preparation for Ministry and Introduction to Theological Reflection, I came to understand that I carried more baggage from my first few years of Christianity then I realized. You see, I came to religion late. I joined a Christian church as a newlywed at the age of twenty-three having had no prior experience in the world of organized religion. So while attending and participating in a Christian church was a significant decision for me, the fact that it was a fundamentalist, non-denominational church had little significance. At the time, I wasn’t aware that there were thousands of varying churches I could have chosen from and instead joined one simply because it was close to my house—one that unfortunately didn’t believe women had much more to offer than serving their husbands and caring for children. Eight years later I am much more aware of the factors that drew me to that church and the factors that eventually convinced me it was time to leave. These elements are wrapped up in my personal history, of course, but they are not the subject of this essay and so I will move on. I raise them simply to highlight that it has been the first half of my seminary education that has helped me to understand them.<br /><br />After leaving the fundamentalist church, moving back to the city of my birth, becoming a Quaker, graduating college, working with homeless women for two years, traveling through Europe for four months, and living in intentional community in inner-city Chicago, I decided to come to seminary. “Why seminary,” is a question new students are asked often, one I certainly struggled to answer. Yet now, after completing half my program, I’m confident I came to do the work I have been asked to do at seminary—to look deep and hard into myself, to take a realistic look at what I’m good at, what I’m not so good at and to figure out how best to be of use. Seminary, it seems to me, is a few years set apart to investigate and contemplate questions, some more answerable than others.<br /><br />In Spiritual Preparation for Ministry I was asked to think about my spiritual life. How did I practice it, discuss it, understand it? Why and exactly how does religion matter? I began to think honestly about my relationship to the whole enterprise. These were questions which allowed me recognize the reality that part of me had come to seminary in order to give religion up altogether. I was in the middle of a spiritual crisis that made my first year of seminary difficult and sometimes painful. The spiritual friend I had been assigned in the class was going through her own—albeit very different—crisis and we began meeting weekly to look together at the unanswerable yet important questions. This friendship cemented my belief in the need for companionship along the rocky road of religion. I now meet with a local Spiritual Director once a month and have taken up a new spiritual friendship through correspondence with someone from my home Meeting. <br /><br />In Introduction to Theological Reflection I was asked to read systematic, liberation and feminist theologies, among others. I was asked to read closely and understand what each theologian was trying to say and the implications of what they had put on paper. I could disagree with them, but not before I understood them. I read hard, argued hard and learned a lot. My identity as a pacifist, as an American and as a Quaker were challenged in the pages I was reading. I walked into that class already angry with Christianity, confused about my place within it, and unsure how to voice my concerns. By the end, however, I discovered theologians that not only seemed to share my apprehension, but also helped me better understand, explore and voice what troubled me. I wrote a paper about the problems that are created when salvation is based on the suffering and murder of one man. And I began to wonder, with a kind of excited openness, where this seminary adventure would lead me.<br /><br />In Discernment of Calls and Gifts a miraculous thing happened. My skepticism and anger began to dissipate. I can’t name the exact moment it happened, but I slowly realized I wasn’t fighting with every author I was reading anymore. I started to understand that there isn’t a prescribed category I have to force myself into in order to participate in a life of faith. Under the advice of Stephanie Crumley-Effinger, I learned that it was o.k. to give myself permission to be an explorer on a journey without all the answers. I could step back and take stock of where I had been and recognize the answers that I did have. My first year of seminary taught me several things about myself and gave me the tools to understand what I needed to let go of and what I needed to foster. Now, half way through my second year I think of my first year as a painful, but necessary step in the formation of my spiritual life. Without all the work of my first year, I would never have been prepared for the eye-opening moment in Individual Spiritual Direction when I realized I was coming through a dark night experience, and that I was ready to begin the work of rebuilding everything that had been torn down.<br /><br />So just what exactly am I building? It seems, I’m back to the questions I pondered in Spiritual Preparation for Ministry. How do I practice, discuss and understand my spiritual life? Why and how does religion matter to me? These are questions I still cannot yet fully answer, but I do have new ways of encountering them. And I have discovered one thing, religion does matter to me and I believe it matters to our world. I know that many of the ways it has been practiced throughout history have been dangerous and damaging, and I am well aware of the violence, sexism, slavery, etc., contained within the Bible. Now I have to decide what to do. How do I maintain traditions and remain faithful to stories that matter without continuing to cause harm through them? How can I remain faithful without whitewashing or denying the violent acts and words that have taken and continue to take place? How do I participate in something that so often oppresses and abuses as I try to stand against oppression and abuse of any kind? These are the questions I continue to wrestle with. These are the questions I continue to look deeply into. But even as I wrestle with them, I realize I have come to a place of commitment. <br /><br />I desire a spiritual life and I am working hard to shape what that means in my daily actions. There are, of course, a few obvious goals—living life with simplicity, integrity, generosity and gratitude—that are often easier to discuss than practice. But there are even harder things such as understanding the notions of God and prayer. I have come to a place of contentment with the unknowable, however, and have chosen to seek divinity in simple things and to place value in whispered words, even if I don’t know whether or not they are heard. At this point, the very middle of my seminary study, I am hopeful of where I am being led and confident that more challenge awaits me.Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-1399490659164545862009-01-23T09:55:00.000-08:002009-01-26T09:24:35.132-08:00Secular Bible Study<span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >In my <span style="font-style: italic;">Women in the Old Testament</span> class we had to design a Bible study. Here's what I came up with:</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Bible Study Presentation</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I want to do Bible studies where they are not usually done. I am interested in working towards increasing biblical literacy in our culture, both among religious and non-religious people. In terms of religious people, I mean denominations such as Liberal Quakers and Unitarian Universalists, groups that often ignore the Bible. In terms of non-religious people, I mean secular people who are interested in studying the Bible for any reason. These reasons could include, but are not limited to: interest in the Bible as literature, thinking more critically about what they do not believe in order to actually understand their secular identity, to better understand the cultural heritage they belong to, to better engage in contemporary discourse about religion, or in order to participate in contemporary “hot button” issues that involve religion such as abortion and gay marriage in a more informed manner. Another group could include social workers. I can imagine doing an in-service training to raise the biblical awareness of the employees of a domestic violence shelter, people dealing with the ramifications of dangerous biblical interpretation.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I would like to begin doing this work during my supervised ministry, in which I hope to do adult spiritual formation work within a large UU congregation. I envision offering Bible studies that last at least 4 weeks, but possibly longer. These studies could be focused around several topics: God as a biblical character, Jesus as a biblical character, violence and nonviolence in the Bible, women in the Bible, laws in the Bible, etc., etc..</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Resources beyond class texts:</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Berlinerblau, Jacques. "The Secular Bible: Why Nonbelievers Must Take Religion Seriously."</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" ><br />New York: Cambridge University Press, 2005.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Brooks Thistlethwaite, Susan. “Every Two Minutes: Battered Women and Feminist</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" > </span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Interpretation.” Russell, Letty M., Ed. Feminist Interpretation of the Bible. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1985.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Possible layout for a 5-week study focused on Women in the First Testament:</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Session 1:</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Group discussion on the participants’ previous experience with and relationship to the Bible. </span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >1. Under what circumstances have you encountered the Bible before?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >2. Is there anything you like or appreciate about the Bible?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >3. What is difficult for you in a discussion about the Bible?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >4. Why have you decided to join in a study of the Bible at this point in your life?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Session 2:</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I would have sent the participants home with a survey about women in the OT. We would discuss the answers that people came up with. (Please see the informational survey I took in preparation for designing this study below.)</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >1. Share any connections you have to a biblical woman.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >2. Were you surprised at how many biblical women you could or couldn’t name?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >3. Tell us the women on your list. Tell us about the woman you described in more detail.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >4. Discussion about cultural traditions of biblical women vs. actual text:</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >a. Where or from whom did you learn the information about the woman you described?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >b. Have you ever looked up this woman’s story in the text?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >c. How does the story of this woman impact ideas of “womanhood” in our culture today? (We would probably have to have a discussion on what “womanhood” means. Is it a set of expected behaviors? Is it a philosophy on the way one leads their life? How are conceptions of womanhood learned and understood? What is “natural” and what is “nurtured?”)</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Session 3:</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I would have sent participants home with the assignment to look up the woman they described in the survey and compare their knowledge with the actual text.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >1. Report the findings of your homework.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >a. How did what you already know compare to what you found in the Bible?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >b. How do you feel about what you found? Did it make you angry, happy, confused, etc.?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >2. How have your feelings or perceptions changed about the biblical character you’ve been studying?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >3. How do you feel about the way she is commonly portrayed in culture?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >4. Would it matter if culture knew the actual text? (assuming there’s a wide difference.)</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Session 4:</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Interpretation matters! The beginning of this session would have a lecture (hopefully still participatory) highlighting different interpretations of the women we’d been looking at (HHH and WIS are great starting points to prepare for this). We would then have a discussion of how the stories of these women have been interpreted negatively and positively and which interpretations are found in the academy, the church, and mainstream (secular) culture.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Session 5:</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Final session.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >1. How have your thoughts about biblical women been changed over the past month?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >a. Do you respect/disrespect, appreciate/dislike, feel more/less connected to any of the female characters portrayed in the Bible? Which one’s and why?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >b. Do you think any of them provide examples of a good female role model for modern day women? If so, who and why? If not, why not?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >2. Have you noticed or heard anything in mainstream culture referencing a biblical woman that you wouldn’t have noticed before this study? (I would bring magazine ads we could discuss as a group in addition or just in case no one has anything to share.)</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >a. If so, how did it relate to the actual textual story?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >b. How did you feel about the “interpretation”?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >c. If it was possible to, did you respond to it? If so, how? If it wasn’t possible, how would you respond to it if you could?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >3. Whether or not you’ve ever paid attention to the Bible, do you think the stories of biblical women and their multiple interpretations have effected cultural understandings of “womanhood”?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >a. Share specific thoughts and examples…</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >4. How have your thoughts about the Bible changed over the course of this study?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Here are the Informational Survey</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" > <span style="font-weight: bold;">responses from a mixed group of people:<br /></span>You'll notice that the word religious is put in parenthesis when describing two of the participants. This is because I don't know to what extent they would refer to themselves as religious, but it is clear that they are involved in the religious world in a different way than the secular people.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >These are the instructions I gave to the responders:</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >Please answer the questions without discussing them with anyone else, doing any prep-work or using any other materials.<span style=""> </span>My goal is to get your raw data.<span style=""> </span>The questions are broad on purpose, I’m trying not to influence your answers.<span style=""> </span>It’s ok to answer “I don’t know.”<span style=""> </span>Remember, this class is an <span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; cursor: pointer; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1232734672_24">Old Testament</span> class, so try and keep your mind focused on the <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1232734672_25">Jewish Hebrew Bible/Christian Old Testament</span>.<span style=""> </span>Try to answer the questions in order without looking ahead.<span style=""> </span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Question #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >What is your relationship to/experience with the Bible? </span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I was raised in a Roman Catholic family attending services and religious education classes weekly until about high school age. In college and afterwards I have had a rather academic relationship to religious texts, reading the Koran, the Talmud, the Book of Mormon, and Bhagavad Gita and the Old Testament out of simple curiosity of comparing origin stories, parables, and commandment type mandates.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #2</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >It’s interesting really. When I was younger, after traveling abroad and going on trips to DC with young people from around the world, experiencing the death of grandparents; there was a period when I was obsessed with the Holocaust specifically and questions about life and death in general. We had an old family Bible and I began reading it at night, thinking this unfamiliar territory would be a place to find answers. I got about half way through and stopped. It wasn’t that I found it particularly loathsome with all the begats and such, more that it didn’t seem to apply to me, nor answer my questions (many of which I hadn’t yet articulated at that time). In college I almost minored in religion, and especially found myself drawn to early Jewish history, using the Torah. I discovered that approaching the Bible/Old Testament as a historical document gave it new life and relevance to me. It opened doors for me to see the complicated web that lies at the heart of the complex web of relationships that exist between Jewish, Christian and Muslim people, giving so much in the way of context to the wars and other world history I had learned thus far. At this point in my life, I hunger for more of that historical context, having found it has enriched my understanding of the world – past, present and future. But without the luxury of a teacher in a classroom, I find the book itself a cold place to start on this journey of learning. The more I know about the Bible, the more I see how it permeates every aspect of our life and culture, whether people are aware of it or not.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #3</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Although my family was not religious, I went to a Catholic school from 1st to 8th grade (Christ the King), and then a Jesuit highschool (Seattle Prep) and college (Seattle U). My mom sent me to Catholic school because she thought the education was better and she was scared of the bussing that was taking place at the public schools at the time. At CKS we had a religion period where we'd study the Bible and Catholic beliefs, and we'd go to mass on holidays. At Prep we continued learning about the Bible, but also learned about other religions. At SU I had to take a couple religion classes, but you didn't have to participate in the religious aspect of the school much at all if you didn't want to. At CKS, learning about the Bible at school (Religion class) seemed totally normal – just like any other class. You weren’t really pressured to believe it, and actually probably half of the students weren’t Catholic anyway. I enjoyed learning about it and pretty much believed everything I was taught. I didn’t really question it much, and my parents were very easygoing and open about different religions. I became very good friends with a Catholic girl in my class in 2nd grade, and started going to church with her family some Sundays. I really enjoyed it and felt like my family should be going to church too. In 4th grade I convinced my parents to join the Catholic church. My parents took the classes and we all got baptized and confirmed. In highschool I started questioning whether I really accepted the Catholic beliefs, and by college I convinced my self that I could stop going to church without fearing that I’d go to hell. Now I just believe there’s some being or energy that is much greater than us, that probably created Earth and the universe, but I don’t claim to have any further understanding than that. With all the different religions in the world, and everyone believing their religion is the right one, we can’t all be right, so I’ve concluded that we just don’t know. I’d like to know, and intend to work more on my spirituality in the future, but I am not convinced that I will ever truly believe in one theory or set of religious beliefs. I like to just leave it at this: we are the ants of the universe. Hah! Anyway, sorry, the Bible. I have issues separating what I learned of the Bible from the Catholic teachings. I sort of just viewed it as one of my textbooks. I never felt compelled to make myself read the whole thing, only what we were assigned to read and interpret for class. Since then, I have determined that I am extremely skeptical of the Bible. I think people take it too literally, and I don’t think we can believe that it comes from reliable sources. I’ve never been convinced that people didn’t just make it up for whatever reason.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #4</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I went to Catholic gradeschool and Jesuit high school and college so the Bible was a keystone in my education growing up.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >(Religious) Woman #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I grew up in an unprogrammed meeting, and we definitely read parts of the Bible during Sunday school, though I don’t remember a lot.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >(Religious) Woman #2</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I was raised without any formal religious background, but attended a Jesuit college where one brief survey (“Introduction to the Hebrew Bible,” I think) was required for my core humanities curriculum. In the fall of 2007, after some intriguing and challenging conversations with Christian friends, I began attending a Christian church, and soon after a small house church/bible study group on a weekly basis. Over the past year, I’ve read through the Old and New Testaments once, but still feel like I’m skimming the surface. </span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Man #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I was raised by fairly Universalist Quakers and I attended meeting and went to Sunday school begrudgingly until my parents got sick of fighting with me about it, which was about age 9, I think. My high school taught Genesis as literature, so that was probably the most seriously I have studied it. Other than that, I read the Cartoon History of the Universe a few times, which covered some of the aspects of the old and new testaments that have some basis in history. I'm dead serious.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Question #2</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >What is your opinion of the Bible?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I think it is rather interesting as a social commentary, a snapshot in time. There’s a lot of content in the bible and I wish people would look at it holistically and not pick and choose which verses to adhere to and which to ignore.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #2</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I think it was a book written by a group of men for mainly political and probably some religious (got to give them a little benefit of the doubt!) reasons. I think many of the events actually occurred and were worth documenting, but that what we have is just one version of reality, not the Truth. I also think it had some great practical applications in its day, especially in regards to rules for cleanliness – like don’t eat pork, not because it’s unholy, but because you could die. This of course, is quite the modern spin on my part. And I think it should be read with a modern spin. To say things like stoning women for adultery are ok punishments is ridiculous, as are many of the stories and passages, especially those that relate to women. I think it’s unfortunate that the Bible has been used as a weapon so often. Like the Torah and the Koran, it’s something that weak men can hide behind to justify their desires and goals. It has the potential to be both terrible and beautiful.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #3</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I answered this one above.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #4</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >It is document capturing written stories of God and Jesus.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >(Religious) Woman #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >That is an amazing and holy book. I would like to read more of the Old Testament.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >(Religious) Woman #2</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I’m still trying to figure that out. I believe it is true, and sacred, and that the question of whether to “take it literally” or “interpret it” is a false dichotomy. I’m troubled by many individual passages, but I’m not willing to reject the scriptures because of that. I know I have a lifetime of study ahead of me.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Man #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I think of it as allegory, along the lines of Beowulf, The Iliad or Huckleberry Finn. As literature, I think there is a certain "truth" to it, not factual truth, but truth in the sense of understanding human nature and morality. As literature, it provides a way of understanding the era during which it was written as well as those who wrote or translated it. I don't believe it is the Word of God and I'm a little frightened by anyone who views it as such. I consider myself a devout agnostic.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Question #3</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Name as many Biblical women as you can.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Sarah, Ruth, Esther, Hagar, Mary Magdelene and Mary, mother of Jesus. I don’t remember the names, but I recall a fair number of stories of prostitutes and a few about witches.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #2</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Ruth, Mary, Jezebel, Eve, Hagar, Sarah, Rebecca – I know I know more, but can’t remember off the top of my head.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #3</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Mother Mary, Mary Magdalene, Eve, and Jezebel. Oh dear, I can’t believe I’m not remembering more!</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #4</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Mary, Mary</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >(Religious) Woman #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Abigail is the only one that is coming to mind.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >(Religious) Woman #2</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Eve, Rachel, Rebekah, Job’s wife J, Sarah, Hagar, Rizpah, Queen of Sheba, Ruth, Esther, Jezebel, Bathsheba,…</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Man #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Eve, Sarah (Jacob's wife, Joseph's mother, I think), Rachel (one of Jacob's other wives, I think) Mary (Jesus' Mom), Bathsheeba, Delilah, Mary Magdelene (sp?). There are others I can't name, except by reference to the story they are in, Lot's wife and daughters, or the two women who were fighting over the baby, which Solomon cutting in half for example.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Question #4</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Pick one woman from the list above and tell me as much as you can about her.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Let’s see, how about Sarah. Is there an H? I can’t remember. I think Sarah was the wife of Abraham and through a blessing from the covenant with God, they conceived many children even though both were very old and past traditional child bearing age. I think this is the section of the bible where folks are living into hundreds of years…I recall most of the story really being about the children she bore. I think she might also be the mother of Isaac, who Abraham was asked to kill as a show of loyalty to God. I always wondered if she knew about what a close call that was and how it made her feel….</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #2</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Ruth, as I recall, was married off to an older man she didn’t know. All I seem to remember is that she suffered and was considered pious because of her good service to her husband. The stories about women seem to tend to be focused on punishments for immorality, like Jezebel. They also tend to be shorter and really, when you strip them down, about the men. Even when they’re the subject of a story, the women are still on the periphery.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #3</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Mother Mary was the mother of Jesus. She had immaculate conception. Her husband was Joseph. She wore blue garments/veils/robes. Oh dear, that’s all I can remember.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #4</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Not hard since I can't name many off hand. Mary (not Jesus' mother) was a prostitute that Jesus met at a well and befriended. It's not mentioned in the Bible but I have heard from other sources that perhaps Jesus and Mary were actually married.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >(Religious) Woman #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >This is sad to me. My mother actually marked sections of the Old Testament that were about women and I haven’t gone back to it in years. Reading the Bible is not a part of my spiritual practice.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >(Religious) Woman #2</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >David had Rizpah’s (don’t known if I’m spelling that right) sons put to death, and she camped out on the mountain, defending their bodies from scavengers. David heard of it, and had the bodies rightfully buried. I kind of think she was one of Saul’s wives, but I really don’t know.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Man #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Mary Magdelene was I believe one of Jesus' followers and confidants and I'm guessing she would have been considered a disciple by any modern standard. I seem to recall she had been a prostitute, or something to that effect, I think there is some evidence that she and Jesus liked each other "that way" and possibly even had a child together.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Question #5</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >In your opinion, how much of what you told me about the woman in question #4 is actually in the Bible? How much do you think is simply cultural tradition?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I am not sure if that’s one of the stories that made it into pop culture. The Abraham/Isaac versions did, but I think only folks more acquainted with the text really know who she is.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #2</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >It’s funny, I suppose most people would have chosen Mary or Eve for question #4, but I didn’t specifically because what I remember about them isn’t from the Bible. Also my middle name is Ruth, so I’m drawn to her as a result. But in our Judeo Christian society, people are bound to have some thoughts and feelings and notions about characters from the Bible. Whether those thoughts, feelings and notions are based in what the Bible actually says is a different story entirely.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #3</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I bet the Bible doesn’t specify that she wore blue garments/veils/robes.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #4</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Half and half.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >(Religious) Woman #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Left it blank.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >(Religious) Woman #2</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I think most of that is in the Bible, and very little (if any) made it into the mainstream culture I’m familiar with.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Man #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Probably only the first part, at least in the version of the bible that became the standard. I think the Gospel of Thomas has some reference to the latter part and possibly some others that were left out of the official version of things.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Question #6</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Do you have any particular connection with a biblical woman? If yes, how and why?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Not particularly.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #2</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >As I said above, Ruth is my middle name. But I think of that as more of a family name, as I was named after my great grandmother. A more interesting connection is mine with Jezebel. My name is Jessica, and in my non-religious family, an early childhood nickname my grandfather started (Jessie-bell I believe. I had a habit of calling everything Jessie-something) morphed into me being called Jezebel. It was an endearing, nice thing to us. And I honestly felt like the bell of the ball, special, when it was used. But coming into contact with the Bible story as a young adult, and learning what a “jezebel” is, we stopped calling me that as a family. I’ve always been a little sad about it, like a loss of innocence. It’s a cliché, but what’s really in a name? And why does the Bible’s version of what that name entails trump years of family history and connotation?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #3</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >No, I wouldn’t say so.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #4</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >No.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >(Religious) Woman #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Left it blank.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >(Religious) Woman #2</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >In high school, I was in the play J.B., which was described as “a modern retelling of the Book of Job.” I was cast as Sarah, who was the Job (J.B.) character’s wife. My director told me that, in addition to my acting skill, he picked me because of “my pensive bone structure,” which gives you an idea of most of my role. I also said “Curse God and die” a few times. I don’t think the part I played has much connection with the Bible, but the fact that Job’s wife is barely in the Bible is interesting in itself.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Man #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I think that Mary Madgelene is the one I identify with, really even if I'm only identifying with the "heretical" version of her. She seems more human to me, a little rougher around the edges, more complicated and more independent minded.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Question #7</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Under what circumstances would you be interested in participating in a Bible study about biblical women?</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I find I am not interested in being guided towards a preconceived conclusion about the bible or what it says. I enjoy exploring the narrative and discussing it in a literary fashion, and then drawing conclusions from the compelling dialogue presented.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #2</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Well, I may be a bit odd, but I think I would jump at the chance for something that was set up like a book club, could be in person or virtual. A social gathering to discuss openly the roles of women in the Bible and what those roles have translated into in “real” life. By this I mean to say, where were we pigeon-holed and have we really broken out of those assigned roles? Even as CEOs and Presidential candidates aren’t we always viewed with the standards set out in the Bible in mind? “How dare she run for office (or be CEO) with all those children” “She’s too weak to make the tough decisions” or if not “she acts like a man”. Or "she played the gender card by crying so we would all feel sorry fo her". How much of our gender roles are a direct result of what the Bible has told us? Conversely “boys will be boys” but girls better be careful or “who will buy the cow?”. Last I checked, I’m not livestock, but in the Bible, I am the property of my father, uncle, brother, even son - just like the livestock. Is this really the message we want to send to our daughters? Honestly, it makes me angry. I think the key to my relationship with the Bible is in treating it like a historical document, not like sacred text. Within those parameters, everyone is welcome and the conversation can be more rich and multi-directional in my opinion. Starting out with the Truth makes it hard to go anywhere else.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #3</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I suppose I’d be interested if the focus were something other than it just being a part of Sunday school or something. I suppose a Bible study about biblical women would be the most interesting focus for a Bible study that I can think of. I might do it if an outside party convinced me that it would be a good and fun use of my time, other than trying to convert me.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Woman #4</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Maybe if it was an activity I could share with my female friends.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >(Religious) Woman #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I would really enjoy participating in a Bible study about biblical women if everyone was open and excited to discuss what we read. I would probably prefer if it was all women. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be more helpful. It does sadden me that I identify as such a feminist but don’t know much about women in the Bible. It’s also an illustration of how the Bible has not been a central part of my religious upbringing. I’ve been saying for a while that I want to begin to read more. Maybe this will give me a kick in the pants to actually do it.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >(Religious) Woman #2</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Pretty much any circumstance. Could you come to Seattle? ☺</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Secular Man #1</span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >It could be interesting, but it isn't really something I'd seek out. I might do it with a girlfriend in exchange for getting to watch 8 hours of football on Sundays without complaint or to impress a girl I was interested in. Even then, I'd have to have reasonable assurance that the discussion wasn't being led by someone who would be using it as an opportunity to proselytize.</span>Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-27286909494074145572008-12-18T08:03:00.000-08:002009-01-26T09:24:17.284-08:00I'm half way done...There are so many things to say as I reflect back on the first half of my seminary experience. I suppose the biggest thing that has happened for me personally has been the realization that I can't throw religion away, no matter how hard I try (and I've tried!). I have figured out that religion matters to me and that it will always be part of my life and vocation. While I don't think I will ever (although never say never) describe myself with the label <span style="font-style: italic;">Christian</span> again, I realize that the Christian tradition is the one available to me. I would feel very odd trying to put on or co-opt a different religion. Christianity is the water I swim in and the Bible is what I know. So here I am, a religious, non-christian, christian. How do you like that label? I have no idea what it means. And you know what? I actually don't need it. For so long I have had an overwhelming need to label myself, but that need is finally loosening. I am what I am and it's probably confusing, but I don't know how to be anything different. I'm slowly getting over the "embarrassment" of wanting to become a minister and hope to spend next year exploring the UU church in order to determine if I want to pursue ordination within that denomination. We'll see!<br /><br />I read the <span style="font-style: italic;">Dark Night of the Soul</span> by Gerald May this semester and recently entered into my second Spiritual Direction relationship (my first was in Spokane before leaving for Europe). These two things have opened me up and helped me understand and verbalize the realizations of the previous paragraph. I almost dropped out of seminary about 100 times last year. At this point, I'm thankful to my husband who always told me to go back and thankful for the amazing teachers that made staying worthwhile. Last year was hard in so many ways, but I'm glad I didn't give up. I have learned so much and been changed yet again. I have settled on belief in mystery and the <span style="font-style: italic;">mysteries of</span> life, death, compassion, love.... This list could go on. Existence itself is holy and continues to draw me into contemplation of the sacred. <br /><br />The next four posts have some of my work from this semester. It's a lot...happy reading!Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-28980979164914658442008-12-18T07:04:00.000-08:002009-01-26T09:25:23.752-08:00My Gingko TreeHere's an interactive post! This is a piece of nature writing from my final portfolio in <span style="font-style: italic;">Writing for Public Ministry</span>.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Gingko</span><br /><br />The tree stood at least two stories taller than my new house and I imagined the roots digging their way to the small river a block away or at least to the roots of the maple across the street. In my head, I could see the two root systems intertwined and coiled around one another deep inside the earth. I couldn’t identify this tree. The leaves were new to me—shaped like a fan with curved edges and a soft V cut out of the top. Each leaf was covered in thin, raised lines that started at the stem and fanned symmetrically out to the edge. On that August morning, the day I first saw the tree, the leaves were a dark green and they filled the branches. I stood against the thick trunk and stared towards the sky. Deep, shaded green filled my vision. I called my landlord and discovered that this tree was a ginkgo.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwNWjv31ysC_UNgYsyFRh21wtcdZ9AhNmTHJ8nSnw409NRLXPSUBNL2_XMpwWAl350ROwuCl8kwVaQg5mIAXz_Du_6OoDeBtmFIvV-sVLTUid1y1puCG5qP5fNk4V9tfsbMK_kFJrxePX7/s1600-h/DSC05203.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwNWjv31ysC_UNgYsyFRh21wtcdZ9AhNmTHJ8nSnw409NRLXPSUBNL2_XMpwWAl350ROwuCl8kwVaQg5mIAXz_Du_6OoDeBtmFIvV-sVLTUid1y1puCG5qP5fNk4V9tfsbMK_kFJrxePX7/s320/DSC05203.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281159066415745074" border="0" /></a>In eastern Asia, the ginkgo tree is sacred. I had moved to Indiana to attend seminary, to explore the holy mystery of life and I had been gifted with a holy tree. In China, Japan and Korea, ginkgos are planted on the grounds of temples and palaces. And here I was, in Indiana with a sacred tree. My house took on a new aura. Walking up my front steps and under the canopy of leaves, I was greeted with holy breath. I looked up and saw the leaves reaching down for me. The base of the thick trunk is about four feet from my walkway, but strong branches grow horizontally over it about ten feet up. From these horizontal branches hang thin branches, full of leaves. I can grab them, examine them—brush my face along them as I enter my home.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJaWnzcORUDYHKnSvM7x5Vy-5wxhgbOz-MEdXtSDnwhzc5KybGL6dpWodiDR8mVPQa6BTbFbm8yxzxvBV2iYV_rXIYlVgsXOsjgtJpijKfhnTkk1TsRls-s8LQLSEI5IsL_vnZN1PCUS1s/s1600-h/DSC05437.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJaWnzcORUDYHKnSvM7x5Vy-5wxhgbOz-MEdXtSDnwhzc5KybGL6dpWodiDR8mVPQa6BTbFbm8yxzxvBV2iYV_rXIYlVgsXOsjgtJpijKfhnTkk1TsRls-s8LQLSEI5IsL_vnZN1PCUS1s/s320/DSC05437.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281158294456980146" border="0" /></a>I sit and watch the tree regularly. The image of it has become a part of me. But I want more from it than its beauty—even more than its shade. I want the tree to speak to me. I want it to tell me stories. I want to hear about the people who have lived in this house, about everything that has happened on this street. I want to know how old the tree is. I sit at its edges, lean against its base and look out at the world it sees—simple wood homes filled with families, shouting, wiggling teenagers walking home from school and cars hurriedly trying to get somewhere. Some of my neighbors have lived on this street for almost fifty years. I wonder if the old, old man next door remembers when this tree was young, when it was more vulnerable than it seems now, but I discover there’s no way he could have. The ginkgo is sometimes called the grandfather-grandchild tree because it takes three human generations to mature. It’s a name that causes me to wonder about who planted the tree in my yard, at least three generations ago, and what it meant to them when they did. Did they know that it was a holy tree?<br /><br />Of course, I will never get the stories I want from my tree. Even though many people use ginkgo leaves to help improve their memory, my tree doesn’t have a human memory. It doesn’t record and remember information the way I do. It doesn’t know the stories I want it to tell me. But that doesn’t mean the ginkgo is without stories. I admit they are not stories that matter to the tree, at least not in the way stories matter to me. But the ginkgo has stories. I’ve read about four ginkgo trees in Hiroshima. They were about a mile away from the point of impact when the atomic bombs were dropped in 1945. Yet they survived. Everything around them was destroyed, yet they stood. And the following spring, they blossomed. They still stand, strong and alive. Because of these four trees, the ginkgo is known in Japan as the bearer of hope. Near these bearers of hope are plaques containing prayers for peace. After learning of these Japanese ginkgos, I walked under my tree and told it the story of the hope bearers. I embraced its trunk and prayed for peace.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw8IC-qNYaxPYN5FC7DQDQaiHxfLx3DpA4WgYETyHN6-CWULekXLNOtSRaAC2gHDznI8onGGFtKG8xiuVnkYlHhKod3clySRm0vD_VzJUOnKis1yZG6VbtACpoBKEPONUYe2PrdBHzL39l/s1600-h/DSC05447.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw8IC-qNYaxPYN5FC7DQDQaiHxfLx3DpA4WgYETyHN6-CWULekXLNOtSRaAC2gHDznI8onGGFtKG8xiuVnkYlHhKod3clySRm0vD_VzJUOnKis1yZG6VbtACpoBKEPONUYe2PrdBHzL39l/s320/DSC05447.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281157587108924226" border="0" /></a>Sitting on my porch where the walls are waist high, I can’t see the bottom of the trunk. The ceiling cuts the view off just as the first strong branches start to pull away. And the columns on either side form horizontal edges, giving my view a photographic shape. The tree stands four or five stories tall and my first floor view keeps me separated from the thickest, leafiest sections. I don’t know most of my tree. Even when I’m walking toward my house, able to see the entirety of the tree, I rarely look up. It’s the bottom that continues to get my focus—the trunk and the low, canopy-creating branches I know best. I live under the tree and walk atop the buried root system almost unaware of the heights the dark green leaves are reaching for.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv-Lubvn16iXuuEMeOibJDTcvvUxzPNz5InENLRCV_guadwPjbramCMsHDeW-DJv0eZSv6o7Ic9zYRDaDWmuw3_HixKj9f49_uH1TKPoIFz03MLIYQX54RdYrX4V1BhW8F_iLuFrxBLdZe/s1600-h/DSC04012.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv-Lubvn16iXuuEMeOibJDTcvvUxzPNz5InENLRCV_guadwPjbramCMsHDeW-DJv0eZSv6o7Ic9zYRDaDWmuw3_HixKj9f49_uH1TKPoIFz03MLIYQX54RdYrX4V1BhW8F_iLuFrxBLdZe/s320/DSC04012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281157228197723378" border="0" /></a>I watched as the leaves gave way in the fall. They changed fast. It didn’t seem possible to keep up with their ever shifting shades of color. At first, the deep green fell out of the leaves, almost as if it was dripping down into the grass. But the leaves refused to lose it all, they simply held the color in a more electric light. They became lime. But electric lime has to move, it has to go somewhere. It dissolved, no longer dripped, but simply disappeared or was swallowed. Goldenrod formed along the edges of each leaf and squeezed out the last stubborn bits of green. All that was left was an ochre color that couldn’t quite be called orange. But then the leaves brightened, somehow turning the exact shade of marigolds. And then they gave up.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKFtZBbW2NuNBIDL0OeahtNNKI3W1sIFm3rWCRpaZhtXdeNykMY2S2gybLKIThj9lBCGfUoMWnSdn_VW5AH52u5lOl4Lhqf5YLG8u6xAMzQyPC-Rzqp1br7LlaZGOBTEtl4CU1MxlLFOT0/s1600-h/DSC05423.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKFtZBbW2NuNBIDL0OeahtNNKI3W1sIFm3rWCRpaZhtXdeNykMY2S2gybLKIThj9lBCGfUoMWnSdn_VW5AH52u5lOl4Lhqf5YLG8u6xAMzQyPC-Rzqp1br7LlaZGOBTEtl4CU1MxlLFOT0/s320/DSC05423.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281154027690491682" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2BpEzUG9vT8BLWrP7ll2PN5LR8AyT1riSM5iAj_IpbyW-DUsZhGDd_3sax7grlYc9zmvSPEm0xNUtz1nr_HV7CB9hl1jlzQqmVxa5WI_iR_k7VKEBbfoQETGSnZRRIPRH-3sgjsit70Hu/s1600-h/DSC05416.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2BpEzUG9vT8BLWrP7ll2PN5LR8AyT1riSM5iAj_IpbyW-DUsZhGDd_3sax7grlYc9zmvSPEm0xNUtz1nr_HV7CB9hl1jlzQqmVxa5WI_iR_k7VKEBbfoQETGSnZRRIPRH-3sgjsit70Hu/s320/DSC05416.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281159957612066962" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyfAPr6po_TH7S50-sSMYyvC7tjzcSfmY3eE-pbBQNujXU1VdWEuGQA-BfDt5GUCldc5ZWfgOPpoQWk2WpF4n9V3zvAMtQpoSs5Q2onbHTo_hH2qkuUYTYmkpFxaGT2eWcIS6H2Uma4Ri0/s1600-h/DSC05413.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyfAPr6po_TH7S50-sSMYyvC7tjzcSfmY3eE-pbBQNujXU1VdWEuGQA-BfDt5GUCldc5ZWfgOPpoQWk2WpF4n9V3zvAMtQpoSs5Q2onbHTo_hH2qkuUYTYmkpFxaGT2eWcIS6H2Uma4Ri0/s320/DSC05413.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281159861200961442" border="0" /></a>One November morning, I awoke to the sound of rain. Except it wasn’t quite the sound of rain. It was soft and padded in some way. It was a sound I’d never heard. It was like what you would expect snow to sound like if snow made noise when it hit the ground. My ears loved it. I sat up, peeked through the blinds, and was startled by what was there. I jumped out of bed. I walked out my front door, clothed in pajamas and looked up in amazement as every leaf fell from my tree. It was raining yellow gingko leaves. My walkway was covered in gold. There were thousands of lines and shapes forming and changing as the leaves fell on top of one another. I sat down on the steps and lay back, feeling the comfort hundreds of leaves can provide. I stared up into the branches—my canopy was slowly becoming bare. I could see patches of sky and light. The leaves rained continuously for hours. It took all morning for the branches to shed their cover and expose themselves.<object height="344" width="425"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8kdtFgWLLcM&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwhqB-rXj2G9FDXO1thoXZdhitAwh1aNE6M_q7KDs2PunWonafMcr_MHUwbcvQqbtByKilnOPr910olx0SjRyEfevPEdJxaobv_CXRUAdCP72YXtPrHrqTqxQBi0NflC3qQasmoFBhcBLs/s1600-h/DSC04065.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwhqB-rXj2G9FDXO1thoXZdhitAwh1aNE6M_q7KDs2PunWonafMcr_MHUwbcvQqbtByKilnOPr910olx0SjRyEfevPEdJxaobv_CXRUAdCP72YXtPrHrqTqxQBi0NflC3qQasmoFBhcBLs/s320/DSC04065.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281152913159696994" border="0" /></a>The ginkgo tree is often called a living fossil, which means it’s a living organism that’s found in fossils, but has no other close living relatives. Scientists think that the ginkgo biloba tree, my tree, is the only species left in a family of trees that dates back almost 300 million years. My tree is older than the dinosaurs! As I watched the golden leaves fall, I couldn’t help but imagine a giant Tyrannosaurus Rex watching the same golden rainfall millions of years ago. With this thought came an overwhelming reminder of my smallness. I am but a tiny speck in the history of the world. My life takes up no more than an itty-bitty portion of the planet. Sitting on a pile of leaves, looking up at empty branches, I wondered what it all meant. I picked up a leaf, yellow and veiny, still supple and full of life. How long until it dried and would crumble between my fingers? I held it, one out of thousands—then dropped it and scooped up handfuls. Golden leaves covered everything, my field of vision blurred. The sidewalk around my house was gone; the grass had disappeared. Half of the street was a golden mosaic.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvHrAu75_Zi74aSkXIKSNWtIEcbOwEeO9cXd1HSHwFouq0yfALbWCDidCRPvBqx_u2jm9pOAkE6srhFRxuKSUhe7ZRMh4u49jsT-DEn9PtuBbu9B5AW3Zv1n46xe0K3pN0RJYwAKV3Jl2d/s1600-h/DSC05475.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvHrAu75_Zi74aSkXIKSNWtIEcbOwEeO9cXd1HSHwFouq0yfALbWCDidCRPvBqx_u2jm9pOAkE6srhFRxuKSUhe7ZRMh4u49jsT-DEn9PtuBbu9B5AW3Zv1n46xe0K3pN0RJYwAKV3Jl2d/s320/DSC05475.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281151796751737586" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6XwcahXeP9ecRhtqT4fnCxUMbo5KWSPHi7-6d58Anwi0AmHlJMsj4cjgGcejqEGPGJNz0FO92H1ly5yVhY00ryIP8raNheRwH3AQ1pyYe-7dGIn4Jz3TAX5xIQd0NVl5GCyJYaiW2TCLP/s1600-h/DSC05469.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6XwcahXeP9ecRhtqT4fnCxUMbo5KWSPHi7-6d58Anwi0AmHlJMsj4cjgGcejqEGPGJNz0FO92H1ly5yVhY00ryIP8raNheRwH3AQ1pyYe-7dGIn4Jz3TAX5xIQd0NVl5GCyJYaiW2TCLP/s320/DSC05469.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281152177413099154" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSirPsdB09Ic4a0QrOA13Mz93qBtOBecS8KzvJNmtV19NSXH8824eIC2D3Ma3UnQ_kyqQSKycMj5QvdRm2TISqxbBPMCwqxPLCHsMUt2LA2AtdOTRZdeToVu6dUbOx5vMk2Qldjz3bxSP9/s1600-h/DSC05467.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSirPsdB09Ic4a0QrOA13Mz93qBtOBecS8KzvJNmtV19NSXH8824eIC2D3Ma3UnQ_kyqQSKycMj5QvdRm2TISqxbBPMCwqxPLCHsMUt2LA2AtdOTRZdeToVu6dUbOx5vMk2Qldjz3bxSP9/s320/DSC05467.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281152412232191538" border="0" /></a>Most of the leaves fell that morning, but there were a few stubborn ones that refused to let go. They lasted less than a month and soon my leafy canopy was gone. My tree had been stoic, lush and dark green for months. It had stood, deeply rooted and constant as I transitioned through the beginning of seminary. In less than a month all the green had fallen away and in one day almost every leaf had given up. I walked towards my house and looked up at the empty branches. I saw vast linear patterns etched against the grey sky. But as the days grew colder, I forgot to pay attention to the sacredness of those patterns and simply ran towards my door. I became mired in my studies and dependent on the warmth of my house. My world shrank and I neglected my tree.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-qKeingvvYxqyLulnKTtMQI9jFSD-gPYFvuHqq8SNNzxsPVH-wY1dZsFVkPI5O1KtmnrJe0QlERavxfgOj8endkeICOYCGAVjAKrllaW3Hqwq0Q4Ba3Ikl1ai9veoTB4CShuwU-u6t6LF/s1600-h/DSC04081.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-qKeingvvYxqyLulnKTtMQI9jFSD-gPYFvuHqq8SNNzxsPVH-wY1dZsFVkPI5O1KtmnrJe0QlERavxfgOj8endkeICOYCGAVjAKrllaW3Hqwq0Q4Ba3Ikl1ai9veoTB4CShuwU-u6t6LF/s320/DSC04081.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281151134601679794" border="0" /></a>I had come from the evergreen state, the land of pine and spruce. The land of moss filled trunks supporting branches of needles and cones. I had come from trees that avoid the drastic changes of the gingko. Trees that are sacrificed every winter and decorated with tinsel and light in warm living rooms. My ancient gingko escapes this fatal glory and continues its stoic, isolated stance through the bitter cold of Indiana winter. A winter that refuses to give up until it has chilled every last human bone and people have resigned themselves to the fact that springtime no longer belongs to them. Bundled and miserable, I trudged under my leafless canopy for months. It was incapable of giving me warmth and I was therefore unable to slow my pace, to remember the golden rainfall. Some days the branches were dry, dully holding themselves up as placeholders for the next generation of leaves. Other days they sturdily supported inches of snow and reminded me that they lived for more than leaves.<br /><br />One day, I came home under the cover of a blue, wintery sky and was amazed to see my tree covered in diamonds. Every branch shimmered. Wherever there was a small, raised shoot on the branches—the part where the leaves would eventually grow again—water had collected and frozen. The tree glowed and glistened in the sunlight. I felt as if it were calling for my attention, as if it were demanding that I finally stop and feel the holy breath underneath its barren canopy. I did. I walked around it and then sat on the ledge of my porch, the place I had first examined it on an August day not long ago. I tried to remember the unknowing I felt then, the warmth, the mystery that surrounded this new tree. I looked at it now with familiar love. Yet, I knew I didn’t have all its secrets. It held the mystery of rebirth, the hope of spring. But it was still winter and the beauty of those diamonds could not fight off the cold. I started to shiver and thanked the gleaming branches for their greeting. Then I went inside and began to wait.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJV-0lMuty9oP9oBiKDsS17hHoMKDrxBXcHAuaN9vCTAdyLmz8GKeXUxhVgWzA-C-bSE8jbCwXnllM7eoXI5t0uXFvMEdH_y7eCYFPFJN5K_wztB8vxVO0fi_iigGR-v42rUYoirmyhZY9/s1600-h/DSC04189.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJV-0lMuty9oP9oBiKDsS17hHoMKDrxBXcHAuaN9vCTAdyLmz8GKeXUxhVgWzA-C-bSE8jbCwXnllM7eoXI5t0uXFvMEdH_y7eCYFPFJN5K_wztB8vxVO0fi_iigGR-v42rUYoirmyhZY9/s320/DSC04189.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281150102490761826" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcb6mvcz1ic7BT7CMf7Pcd0Lr_beo7egasLC3-EgTNZRoR__RVeS6CLNvtR8QY12MQAm6Vg0oIQO9soJ4W5nNFiXg7BUTdu8l63Z0hdfZp3OKSFWpFmR5DZHLuWqrwlZvE14Ze4oaX9Zu2/s1600-h/DSC04191.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcb6mvcz1ic7BT7CMf7Pcd0Lr_beo7egasLC3-EgTNZRoR__RVeS6CLNvtR8QY12MQAm6Vg0oIQO9soJ4W5nNFiXg7BUTdu8l63Z0hdfZp3OKSFWpFmR5DZHLuWqrwlZvE14Ze4oaX9Zu2/s320/DSC04191.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281150719718376866" border="0" /></a>Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-62961953264721915932008-12-18T06:59:00.000-08:002009-01-26T09:25:23.753-08:00PoetryHere they are, my first attempt at poetry! I was really nervous at first, but I actually enjoyed writing them. This was part of my final portfolio for <span style="font-style: italic;">Writing for Public Ministry</span>. <br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">LOSING LEAVES</span><br /><br />First the deep green fell out<br />Disappeared or was swallowed<br />Mottled and faded<br />Shades of color shift<br /><br />Lime, electric<br />Goldenrod wrapped at the edges<br />Hoping in vein for orange.<br /><br />Almost as if dripping<br />Down into the grass<br /><br />They gave up.<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">MARKET VIEW</span><br /><br />Often my first stop<br />when I go home.<br /><br />Past the dried bouquets, produce<br />slow walkers and flying fish.<br /><br />To three-girls-bakery<br />then my spot.<br /><br />Water is everywhere<br />shiny grey air hangs heavy.<br /><br />Salt fills my nostrils<br />ferries move like sea slugs.<br /><br />I take a stool at the bar by the window<br />open my brown bag and take my first bite.<br /><br />The sandwich is good<br />but not why I’m here<br /><br />which is to look.<br />To see what I long for.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />PILGRIMAGE TO KNOTTED ROPE {EVA HESSE: UNTITLED ROPE PIECE}</span><br /><br />In the corner<br />Latex dipped knots of wire, string—and rope<br />Old cracked shades of ochre<br />Tangled, odd, lovely<br />Tied and twisted stuck<br /><br />Lovely because of the gesture<br />Delicate disorder<br />Held together in reminiscence<br />Sharing space with shadows<br />Bearing everything<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A PAUSE BEFORE</span><br /><br />My father and I<br />wait for the music to call us.<br />Breathe, breathe<br /><br />and wonder.<br />Standing still in soundless noise.<br />My bridesmaids have already<br /><br />disappeared behind the door.<br />Two left I start to feel<br />to feel—<br /><br />nerves dancing with<br />stephanotis and lilies.<br />The weight of my dress.Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-37437834275118652502008-12-18T06:49:00.000-08:002009-01-26T09:25:50.695-08:00Spiritual Direction: Integration, Self-Reflection and Future GoalsThis was my final paper for <span style="font-style: italic;">Individual Spiritual Direction</span>, my first training steps toward becoming a Spiritual Director (that title freaks me out!). There are five sections and they are each answering specific questions. I think the paper will make sense on its own, but if you would like to know the questions, please let me know.<br /><br />Section 1:<br /><br />I came to this class with assumptions, hopes and wonderings. I knew I was interested in the ministry of spiritual direction, but my exposure to it had been minimal. Before beginning this class I had met with one director for five months. I have now met with and discussed direction with two other directors, entered into a relationship with a new director, offered direction to someone and participated in several direction practicum experiences. Because of these encounters, my imagination for the ministry of spiritual direction has been greatly enlarged. I have a renewed vision for the possibilities and gifts of this ministry as well as my place within it.<br /><br />I live in a world filled with people trying to cope with the mysterious realities of existence and death. While I don’t believe that spirituality can answer these questions or automatically take away pain, I do believe it can respond through the work of grappling with questions and paying attention to pain (and all other emotions). I believe that it is the wrestling with mystery that matters. We may never find answers, but our lives will be fuller for the search. I believe the task of spiritual direction is to offer space and an invitation.<br /><br />I continue to be enamored by Margaret Guenther’s concept of the Spiritual Director as amateur. This definition gives so much clarity to a sometimes hard to define vocation. The Spiritual Director is not a doctor or a psychotherapist. They are not professionally trained to diagnose or treat sickness in the body or mind. What the Spiritual Director offers is presence. They offer safe space and support to the people who come to them in search of something. Sometimes people come searching for a particular thing, a decision that needs to be made or pain that needs to be healed. Other times they come for no other reason than they couldn’t not come. They don’t know what they’re searching for, but they know that something is missing and they want help. The amateur is available to sit alongside, to listen, to help discern the shape and sound of inarticulate longings. The amateur is not answer-giver, pain remover or boss. The amateur provides an openness and helps give the vision of possibility and hope. It is crucial, however, for the amateur to remember their role. The work done in spiritual direction can open up wounds that may be beyond the scope of an amateur. As I think of the possibility of entering into this kind of work, I continue to grow in awareness of the need to foster relationships with a network of professionals. People I can call on for support and advice when I need it and that I can refer directee’s to when they are in need of different types of care.<br /><br />After participating in spiritual direction work in the role of the director, I now have a greater appreciation for Guenther’s metaphor of the Spiritual Director as midwife. The section What the Midwife Does (87) provides a practical, earthy description of helping someone bring new life into the world. Of course, new life can be understood broadly. And as Guenther points out, the stages of new life are remarkably similar, no matter what “life” is newly coming into the world. The amateur midwife is available to participate in the entire birthing process right alongside the person who is pregnant. While each stage is important, they are all different. The first—that of waiting—can sometimes be the most difficult for certain personality types. It is important that the Spiritual Director model patient waiting and provide space for the directee to be comfortable in what might seem like a process of doing nothing. Time must be given to figuring out what is being birthed, what it means, where it’s coming from, what the process of bringing it to life might look like. This process of waiting and discerning is critically important and should always be given proper attention. Helping to fight the desire to rush ahead towards something that feels more “productive” is a gift that the director can offer to the directee. Of course, once it (whatever it is) is discovered, the director doesn’t walk away from the process. The focus changes toward dealing with transition, which can be scary and painful. It can bring up past, unresolved issues, it can cause tension in personal and work relationships. It can mean a time of grieving. It can also be a happy time of shedding painful memories that no longer need to be grasped so tightly. It is important for the amateur midwife to create a safe space in which the directee can raise and face any of the multiple issues that arise during this stage without shame or guilt. It is also important that the Spiritual Director slow her words down and avoid rushing in with ideas as the directee begins to brainstorm her next steps. She might point out observations of patterns or previously expressed feelings, but it is not her job to provide a solution. However, as the next steps are decided and acted upon, and new life is born, it is entirely appropriate for the director to celebrate right along with the directee.<br /><br />Spiritual direction relationships can provide a respite from the expectations of everyday life. They can provide a quiet place to ponder together issues of mystery and heart, to pay attention to pain, but also beauty, to dream and to heal. Spiritual direction is an intentional gift shared between seekers.<br /><br /><br />Section 2:<br /><br />My vision for the spiritual life remains a mystery. I am coming through a dark night experience in which I tried to renounce religion and am finally at the point of building rather than deconstructing. In order to do the work of building, I have entered into my second spiritual direction relationship. While I know this work will help me to find practices and contentedness in my spiritual life, I know that I will not find answers. I have come to the conclusion that spiritual matters are by their very nature mysterious and must remain that way. While human beings have to come up with concrete words, images and practices in order to better communicate and understand their spiritual journeys, I believe it is vitally important that concrete answers be avoided. I understand that each person will find comfort in different levels of understanding and I’m therefore not suggesting a dogmatic belief that no one is allowed to find an answer that I can’t find. I am simply stating my belief that we must respect the ever-mysterious quality of divinity and need to err on the side of love and openness as we reach conclusions in our belief systems. I believe one of the fruits of spiritual direction can be working towards a balance in the tension between the human need for answers and the mysterious quality of divinity. A director can challenge their directee to loosen the grip on some of their most tightly held beliefs (if they are proving to be unhealthy), and they can also help people swirling around in confusion ground themselves in something verbal and tangible.<br /><br />As I consciously begin moving toward the ministry of spiritual direction I am finding that many of the difficult experiences I’ve had in my life—or more specifically, the work I have done to process and begin healing from these experiences—will be important assets in my role as a spiritual director. I understand what it is to be optimistic in spite of seemingly hopeless situations. I know the feeling of loving a family member even though they hurt you. I know how to set healthy boundaries in unhealthy relationships. But I have also been blessed with many incredible experiences and wondrously healthy and communicative relationships. Beyond my experience with individual people are my experiences with larger faith communities. While I often joke about my roller coaster ride with religion, I wouldn’t trade any of the steps in my journey (maybe some of the behaviors associated with them!). I understand what it is to be without religion, to be fundamentalist, liberal, confused and agnostic. All of these words represent more to me than clichéd labels. They are times of my life, they are people I still call friends, they are points of the spectrum in which many of my directee’s will find themselves. I am thankful for the many experiences in my life that will help me better understand the perspectives my directee’s will be speaking from.<br /><br />I was gifted with an amazing first experience of spiritual direction with a Dominican sister that gave me a respect for the importance and sacredness of this ministry. I now have a male director and am learning that gender distinctions are less important than I once thought in this type of relationship. I realize that I hold my own sessions of spiritual direction as a place I can let my guard down (not an easy thing to do for an Enneagram 8), a place that I can be completely honest about my spiritual life without fear of embarrassment or judgment. As a highly extroverted person I need to verbally process my thoughts in order to understand my thinking. Intimate spiritual thoughts aren’t always easy to share, however, and I’m grateful to have a place to process them. As I begin to offer direction to others, it is my sincerest hope that I will be able to offer the safe and open presence I have been given. Offering direction to someone has been a gifted experience. It is a sacred privilege to be let into someone’s inner life and spiritual awareness. One of the most important aspects of being offered the chance to “practice” spiritual direction has been the calming of a few of my biggest fears. I have always been concerned that the largeness of my personality could take over and that I would bring too much of myself into the conversation. I am also a pragmatic, systems person who likes to work toward resolution. I worried that I would need to jump in with solutions to every problem or at least the problems I felt to be easily fixable. I have done neither of these things in my brief experience as a director and this gives me the confidence to continue in the work. And there is much work to be done. Beyond more training and practice, I need to continue down my own spiritual path. I have come a long way in the past few years and am relieved to have reached the present moment. Many of the practices I am currently working on in my own spiritual life match the qualities I think of as important for any Spiritual Director. Most importantly among them I have to keep working out my prayer life, a goal that reminds me of Paul’s call to work out our own salvation with fear and trembling.<br /><br />Section 3:<br /><br />Spiritual direction is something I’ve thought about for a long time and as I have studied it intentionally over the past few months I’ve been opened up to several new possibilities. Some of the most important for me personally have included Janet Ruffing’s discussion of the Communion of Saints and Gerald May’s book on the dark night. As I mentioned above, I have just been released from a dark night experience. It was May’s book that gave words to some of my unnamable emotions and helped me to move into the next phase of my spiritual journey. This is a book I will return to and one I will always be grateful for. Ruffing’s discussion on the Communion of Saints, along with my study of Theresa of Avila for history class and May’s discussion of Theresa and John, have provided me with a breakthrough. It’s hard to explain my excitement about it at this point. I feel something very important growing within me in relation to the Communion of Saints but I haven’t had enough time to sit, study and reflect on it yet. Even in my early contemplations of it though, it has opened an entirely new way of relating to spirituality and prayer in my life.<br /><br />In addition to personal breakthroughs I have also gained insight into practical aspects of spiritual direction. Vocationally, the idea of colleagueship both for support and referral has become important. This is something that makes practical sense and is absolutely necessary, but that I hadn’t ever really thought through before. In terms of the actual direction session I have appreciated learning more about resistance, focusing, and patterns in life’s many stages. The most important aspect about learning some of these things has been the fact that they take me out of my own experience and broaden my perspective on why people come to direction and the various needs of people in direction. Getting to do my “practice” direction with a father in his forties has been incredibly rewarding for me because of the sheer differences between us.<br /><br />Section 4:<br /><br />I am a compassionate person with common sense. While this is a simple description, it’s one I think is valuable in any ministry of accompaniment. I think a certain level of compassion is necessary in order to open space within oneself and truly hear the stories of others. But a certain level of common sense is necessary in order not to get lost in the stories of others. It is important to be able to find the balance between truly hearing and getting lost. I have been lucky in my life to have a few great mentors that have modeled healthy behaviors that strike this balance in accompaniment work. I think I have a gift for quickly understanding the heart of what someone is trying to communicate and being able to mirror it back to them in helpful ways. This is a gift that needs more testing before I can boldly claim it, but I feel its early fruits in my life and relationships.<br /><br />One aspect of spiritual direction that I am currently wrestling with is money. I have never been to a director that charges a fee. My first director asked that I make donations to her community, but never monitored whether I did or how much I gave. My current director doesn’t charge at all. I have never met anyone that makes a living doing spiritual direction and I’m struggling with how this ministry will fit into my life, especially in an occupational way. The conversation we had in our last class around this subject was helpful. I feel the most comfortable with the concept of being released and supported by a congregation or organization to provide spiritual direction. But that of course demands a willing group to support me in this work, which is something I might not always be able to depend on. I suppose this is an issue that needs to be given over to the beautiful concept of trust. The only thing I can control at this point is working to prepare myself for this ministry. I have to trust that I will be supported in the work if I’m supposed to do it.<br /><br />Feedback is an important aspect of all skill building work and I appreciated the chance to have supervision sessions. While writing a verbatim for supervision is difficult, it’s an important exercise that forces me to think deeply about my direction sessions. It helped me to get beyond superficial reflections and into the deeper, multi-layered aspects of any direction session. Having a space to discuss the verbatim was helpful, especially for a verbal processor like me. Having another set of eyes and ears walk with me through a session opened up the practice of spiritual direction in new ways. Another important aspect of participating in supervision was simply the experience of it. I now have a vision for what supervision is and why it’s important. I can’t imagine having multiple directee’s without a system in place for support and feedback.<br /><br />In many ways, the feedback I received this semester has been affirming. When I was the director during practicum, my biggest fears were thrown on me. I was told that I became the directee and that I made the session about myself. However, after participating in the other practicum experiences, multiple direction sessions with my directee and our supervision sessions (I count the debrief after my painful practicum as one of my supervision sessions) my fears have been calmed and I feel able to move forward confidently in this work. Confidence is important, but overconfidence is dangerous and I am well aware that continuing to hone my skills, ask for feedback and remain aware of the presence I give to directee’s will always remain a crucial aspect of offering this ministry. I am looking forward to continuing with my current directee next semester and hope to offer direction as part of my supervised ministry next year. It is my hope that through continued exposure to various directee’s I will be able to identify the specific areas of growth that I need to focus on. At this point, I feel that the most pressing issue I need to focus on is my own spirituality. As I stated above, I am finally at a place of rebuilding my own understanding and relationship with the Holy. This next year will be a time of discernment for me as I decide whether or not to remain a committed Quaker or to seek membership within the Unitarian Universalist Association. It will also be a time of growth as I commit to my own spiritual disciplines. I continue to realize how much tradition and ritual matter to me. As I explore these aspects and intentionally meditate on the liturgical year I’m hopeful that my ministry of direction will be affected in positive ways. I came to seminary knowing that spiritual direction was a ministry I wanted to explore. After investigating other areas of emphasis and working through some of my own difficulties in regards to spirituality, I am even more confident that I am heading towards a ministry of spiritual direction in some form or another. As I stated above, I am looking forward to continued exposure and “practice” over the next year in order to continue discerning what role this ministry will play in my life. <br /><br />Section 5:<br /><br />Five years from now will be an interesting time in my life. Jeremy will be finishing his PhD and we will therefore have lived in the same city for five years, which will be different for us. We will hopefully be moving to a teaching job for him at that point, which will entail choosing a city and settling. Something we’ve been unsure we would ever do. As I ponder my life and ministry, however, I’m realizing more and more the importance of building relationships and remaining active in a particular community. I hope that Jeremy and I will be able to participate in the community we move to next year because of the longevity we will have there. I hope to work towards ordination or recording if I continue to feel called in that direction and I hope to gain more experience with multiple directee’s. I hope to gain experience in both congregational settings and retreat centers. I also hope to work toward certification as a Pilates instructor. I would like to incorporate bodywork into my ministry as well as aspects of the creative life. I am constantly dreaming up workshop, retreat and Sunday school hour ideas. I’ve decided to finally start writing them down so that I will be able to utilize them when I have the opportunities.<br /><br />I’m looking forward to my two independent studies next year—art and spirituality as well as working with married couples. Both of these classes will help me begin to explore specific aspects of my ministry goals. I have also been feeling called back into some sort of social work. I hope to find an organization to volunteer with regularly over the next five years. It is my hope to be able to offer spiritual direction and workshops with the underserved and often ignored populations in our country. Before coming to seminary I worked for an amazing organization for three years serving women trapped in mental illness, poverty and homelessness in Spokane. I can imagine several ways of bringing my ministerial goals to the women of that center and hope I can find a similar place wherever I move to next.<br /><br />I was taught from a young age that dreams can come true. This belief has carried into my entire outlook on life. If my future self and present self could have coffee, I’m sure we would laugh and share stories and memories. I hope my future self would tell me to keep going and not to be scared of settling down somewhere and that my work in ministry had turned out to be more fruitful than I ever could have imagined and to keep working hard. My present self would ask my future self about some of the spiritual practices that had become meaningful to me so that I could get started on them right away!Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-61043873445192386452008-12-18T06:40:00.000-08:002009-01-26T09:24:35.133-08:00Jacob Wrestles with GodThis was my final paper for <span style="font-style: italic;">Bible Violence and Nonviolence</span>. I loved writing it! I am sort of falling in love with the crazy, crazy book that is the Bible.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A Close Reading of Genesis 32:24-31 (Before Research)</span><br /><br />The Basic Story:<br /><br />Just after leaving his father-in-law Laban’s household and right before being reunited with his brother Esau, Jacob sent everyone away and sequestered himself in solitude. Once alone, he was confronted by a man, whom he wrestled with until daybreak. Their physical strength was well matched, for there was no clear victor in the battle. The unidentified man, upon realizing that he was unable to physically beat Jacob, resorted to cheaters tactics and struck Jacob on the hip socket. As they continued to wrestle, Jacob’s hip was put out of joint. (In remembering this story, I have often though that the man put Jacob’s hip out of place directly, but in my recent reading I have come to realize that the man only set the stage for the injury, he didn’t directly cause the injury. This is a subtle distinction, but one that is worth noting.) The man asked to be released at dawn, apparently unable to leave on his own even though Jacob was injured. Jacob, clearly in control at this point, refused to let go unless the man blessed him. This is a perplexing request. I would think Jacob would have gladly let the man go so that he could rest and care for his hip. The man responded to the request for blessing by asking Jacob’s name, which Jacob told him. This was the first time the issue of identity was raised between these two men. In an effort to take control, the man changed Jacob’s name to Israel and explained that Jacob had wrestled with God and humans, but had prevailed. At this point, I’m still unsure who the ‘man’ is. Is he God or is he human? He’s called a man, but how would he know that Jacob had wrestled with God if he wasn’t himself God? And why would a man have the power to change Jacob’s name? At this point in the story, Jacob is thinking the same thing and asks the man for his name. The man asks Jacob, in what sounds like a sarcastic tone, why Jacob would ask this question. Skipping over the second request, the man grants Jacob his first request and blesses him. Jacob then, unable to name or know the name of the man, names the place. At this point it is clear that Jacob believes the man to have been God for he says that he has seen God face-to-face and lived. The story ends with Jacob walking away into the sunrise—with a limp.<br /><br />Jacob’s Personal Story:<br /><br />When I read this story in it’s biblical context I see the unfolding of a family drama. Jacob refused to give Esau hospitality, but instead forced him to trade his birthright for food. Then Jacob schemed with his mother to steal his brother’s blessing. He directly and knowingly lied to his ailing father and received his blessing under false pretense. He then fled his homeland and stayed away for twenty years. Understandably, he was terrified of how Esau would react to his return. Esau, however, was capable of greater forgiveness and generosity. He came to meet Jacob in love. Jacob was unable to trust this love and did everything he could to ply Esau with gifts and send him away. In the context of the full stories of Isaac and his sons, I interpret the story of Jacob’s night of fighting in a specific way. It seems clear that Jacob was fearfully wrestling with the demons of his past behavior as he prepared to return to the land of his father.<br /><br />The Universal Story:<br /><br />When I read the story in isolation of it’s surrounding stories, however, I understand it in a completely different way. I see a metaphor for the spiritual life. It’s a story of two men fighting, so I initially feel left on the outside of the action. But as I focus on the issues involved in the story, I am able to move beyond the two characters and see what they represent. Which for me is humanity and the unknowable mystery of life. In the first two verses, the narrator sets up the story and gives a lot of information. We learn that Jacob is alone and suddenly wrestling with another man. The transition between these two descriptions leaves me with several questions. Where did the man come from? Who is he? Why did he attack Jacob? This odd transition filled with gaps causes me to assume that the narrator wanted me to be confused. He (I assume the narrator was male) wanted me to feel the mysterious quality of this story immediately. I believe that the mysterious facts of existence and death do come upon humans abruptly. I believe that at certain points in life, humans can become overwhelmed with confusion about the reason for and meaning of life. Just as Jacob, who in a moment of solitude was forced into a holy war of questions, everyone is blindsided with big questions at some point.<br /><br />Not only is there struggle, there is injury. This is the most confusing aspect of these verses for me. The fact that injury came through deep struggle and questioning makes sense, but the cause of injury is perplexing. The man, who I view as an unknowable mystery, is losing the fight and so strikes Jacob, or humanity. This section makes me think of the Tower of Babel. As humans came too close to the heavens, the Lord scattered and confused them. It is the same here, as humanity prevails against mystery, mystery causes injury against humanity. This is difficult for me. I don’t believe humanity can understand the unknowable, so these stories of the Divine feeling threatened and needing to slow human progress make me curious. The next verse is also odd. The ‘man’ speaks and asks to be let go. Why on earth can’t he just leave as quickly and mysteriously as he arrived? What control does ‘humanity’ have over him?<br /><br />At this point in the story, Jacob finally speaks. He holds the man captive and demands a blessing. Unlike the past few verses, this one makes complete sense to me. Human beings are constantly trying to hold mystery captive, to lock it down, define it and force blessings out of it. The question Jacob is asked in response to this demand is also perfect, “What is your name?” I read, “who are you? What is your essential identity? Do you know yourself?” I hear mystery asking, “if you humans want to understand life’s biggest mysteries, you should start by examining yourselves.”<br /><br />Of course, as we examine ourselves in light of the world’s biggest questions, we will be unable to remain the same. We will change. Our identity and our understanding of everything will change. The man understands this and changes Jacob’s name to Israel. He makes the bold claim that Jacob has striven with God and humans and has survived. Therefore, he is no longer Jacob. His essential identity is changed. In response, Jacob (curiously not referred to as Israel until Genesis 35:21, even though God changes his name a second time to Israel in 35:10) asks for the man’s name. This verse is another that makes sense to me. All of human striving towards anything spiritual or religious is an effort to follow Jacob in this question. We want to know the unknowable name. Of course, it can’t be known and the man mocks Jacob for even asking. In the same breath, however, he seems to take pity and offers Jacob his longed for blessing.<br /><br />At this point, the man disappears from the story. We are not given details as to why or how he leaves. He’s just gone. We are also not given any details about the actual blessing. The last two verses contain information from the narrator as well as a grand proclamation from Jacob. The narrator tells us that Jacob gave the place a new name, that the sun rose and that Jacob was still injured. Jacob tells us that he has seen God face to face and has survived. There is much to be gleaned from these pieces of information. Jacob imitated the man’s act of renaming, the man left before sunrise just as he said he needed to and even though Jacob received a blessing, he still walked away limping. From Jacob’s claim I assume we are to understand the man to be God. But I am still skeptical. If he had actually looked true mystery in the face, I don’t believe he could have survived. Just as the Tower of Babel was scattered and Jacob’s hip was struck, I don’t think mystery will ever allow humanity the understanding of a face to face encounter. But clearly, Jacob got close. And in the process he was injured, blessed and changed. And then the dawn broke.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A Close Reading of Genesis 32:24-31 (After Research)</span><br /><br />In order to study Genesis 32 particularly, the character of Jacob must be studied generally. This seems unavoidable. I was drawn to one small episode in his life—his long night of wrestling—but have been pulled into his fuller story. People have been captivated by Jacob for millennia. He is a full character whose life is portrayed from birth to death in the Genesis narrative and whose name is remembered throughout almost all of scripture. A close reading of the stories of Jacob’s life reveal that he was a complex man, full of manipulation and egocentricities. Even before his birth, the Lord was making proclamations of his divisiveness. He came from the womb grasping for his brother’s heel and was given a name that means ‘he takes by the heel’, ‘he supplants’ or even ‘he’s grabby’. Jacob grabbed his brother’s heel in birth and continued to fight with him throughout adolescence. He fought with Laban for twenty years. And for one night he fought with an unidentified man.<br /><br />The mysterious night angle that wrestled with Jacob is often assumed to be his own inner demons. Jacob was fighting with himself. This theory makes sense. After two decades Jacob was going home. But his brother (the one from whom he stole birthright and blessing) was coming to meet him—with four hundred men. It’s easy to believe that Jacob was terrified, racked with guilt and overcome with nightmares. Norman Cohen offers a modern day midrash on the story in which there is no mystery man. He understands the entire episode to have been a vision. This is acceptable speculation, for the Hebrew text reveals no concrete answer. In The New interpreter’s Bible, however, the speculation is removed. While Terence E. Fretheim believes that the narrator delays in identifying the assailant, he believes readers can figure it out. “Initially, he appears only as a “man” [but]…the reader gradually comes to realize that this is no ordinary assailant; it is God in human form” (NIB 565). I marvel at this sort of certainty. Throughout the various commentaries I read, it seems the people who come to this conclusion rely on two things, verses 28 and 30. The Hebrew word that is used in these verses and translated as God is ‘elohim, which “is a high concentration point of lexical ambiguity” (Alter 182). Alter claims that ‘elohim does not mean “divine messenger” but can refer to divine beings. He goes on to say that it could mean God, gods or even princes or judges (Alter 182). In this context, it seems clearly connected to divinity, but there is no way of knowing whether it is singular or plural. There is also no way of knowing whether the mysterious man is using the word to reference himself or if he’s speaking to other parts of Jacob’s life. The certainty found in The New Interpreters Bible seems a little over zealous. Fretheim claims that most ancient and modern readers would assume the man to be God from the beginning and he therefore works from that assumption throughout his commentary. I respectfully disagree and will work in my commentary from the assumption that the man remains mysterious. We will never know his identity for sure.<br /><br />We do, however, know something of his actions—he injured Jacob. I am always surprised by how violent verse 25 seems considering it comes in the middle of an already violent scene—two men fighting. Exactly how the man injured Jacob is ambiguous. The man did something to Jacob’s hip, either ‘touched’ it (NIV) or ‘struck’ it (NRSV). These words have very different connotations. According to Alter “struck is unwarranted…the adversary maims Jacob with a magic touch, or, if one prefers, by skillful pressure on a pressure point” (Alter 181). According to Fretheim, however, “struck is truer to the context…though both translations are possible” (NIB 566). We are again left with uncertainty, we simply don’t know. Schneir Levin focuses on a different word dispute in his wonderings about the actual injury. The NRSV translates the beginning of verse 25 as “When the man saw that he did not prevail against him.” Levin says that the Hebrew actually reads “and when he saw that he was not able to…him” (Levin 326). He says that translators are inferring the word prevail. Levin thinks the word should be castrate. He believes that the mysterious man is none other than Esau. He writes “What else could [Jacob] dream about than Esau taking his life or the ultimate humiliation of castration?” (Levin 326). Levin quotes several doctors who all agree that Jacob’s hip could not have been put out of joint because he would not have been able to walk away from the scene:<br /><br />But there is another surgical possibility, the obvious one, the common one, which in predisposed males—that is, males with a potentially open passage from the abdomen through the groin and into the scrotum—can result in a hernia in the groin, most often on the right side, and as a consequence of increased intra-abdominal pressure during the course of a worrying dream. Such a rupture, a hernia, is often sufficiently uncomfortable, when it occurs to result in a temporary limp. (Levin 327).<br /><br />This is a creative and fascinating idea. Levine began this study by looking at the Hebrew word takya which is translated as “put out of joint” in the NRSV. Levin would like to see it translated as ruptured. While I admire Levin’s creativity, I would be disappointed to think of Jacob’s injury as temporary. I know that sounds harsh, but in a literary sense Jacob’s limp needs to be permanent. He was forever changed after his mysterious encounter. All of these word studies: struck/touched, put-of-joint/ruptured, prevailed/ castrated have helped me to consider this odd scene of violence in more creative, nuanced and ambiguous ways.<br /><br />Verse 26 leaves the tale of the narrator and allows the two characters to use their own voices. The first utterance from each man is a demand. First the mysterious man asks to be let go because the dawn is coming. This is curious; why must he leave before daybreak? This element is a wonderful literary device that supports the mysterious quality of the story. This man must stay under the cover of darkness. In a study on the character of God in Genesis, W. Lee Humphreys asks intriguing questions about the man’s demand. He ponders four options for why he must leave before dawn. Either he can’t stand the light of day or he’s not supposed to be seen during the day. Or maybe his power is only effective during the night. Another possibility is that his power would be too overwhelming if seen in the light of day. All of these speculations are valid and lead Humphreys to the conclusion that the man must be more than a mere human (Humphreys 194). Claus Westermann, in a comprehensive reading of the man’s character in the story determines that he fits the profile of an evil spirit or demon. The man attacks suddenly and surprisingly, refuses to identify himself and must escape before he can been seen in the light (Westermann 516). The obvious parallels between the mysterious man and night spirits in fairy tales and folklore deserve to be mentioned. Several scholars raise this point. Westermann writes:<br /><br />The basic narrative…bears distinct animistic traits and is not to be dissociated from the region, the ford, the river. The danger of the ford is personified in the spirit or demon who does not want to let the traveler cross the river and attacks him so as to prevent him doing so. This accords neither with the religion of Israel nor with that of the patriarchs, but with animistic belief in spirits or demons and has parallels among many people. (Westermann 515)<br /><br />The story of two men wrestling in the night is more than likely an ancient folktale that has been made over and used in the Genesis account as a hinge between two sides of Jacob’s life. All of this contributes to our inability to concretely identify the man. He doesn’t want to be brought into the light. Jacob, however, doesn’t care what the man wants (and why should he, the man has attacked and injured him). Jacob’s first words in the narrative are a refusal and a demand for blessing. Walter Brueggemann reminds us that “since chapter 27, we have known [Jacob] would do anything to get a blessing [and] now he seeks a more weighty [one]” (Brueggemann 268). This is a point I hadn’t thought of, but it seems completely right. It portrays Jacob as an insecure man constantly looking for validation. It’s sadly comical to think of poor Jacob searching for blessing from a violent stranger. It seems he’ll take it wherever he can get it.<br /><br />Verse 26 seems to be a transition between physical and verbal wrestling. The next three verses become solely a match of words and wit. Jacob and the man begin to struggle with issues of identity. They each ask for the other’s name. Jacob gives his quickly, but is mocked for asking the same of the man. The man, while not identifying who he is, clearly understands himself to be someone of authority. Placed in the very center of this story (and in between the two requests for names), is Jacob’s name change. I can’t imagine that the placement of this action is accidental. The name/identity change is the point of the story and there are several reasons why it’s important and unique. Abram was changed into Abraham in conjunction with his being called the ancestor of a multitude of generations and he is never again referred to as Abram. Jacob’s name was changed twice, but he continues to be called Jacob. His new name, Israel, becomes a synonym or metaphor for Jacob’s identity or role in the community. The second reference to Jacob’s new name happens in Genesis 35:10-11 and more closely resembles Abraham’s experience. The first reference, the one of concern in this essay, happens as a result of Jacob’s continued struggles. There are significant theological reasons for the change. Alter writes:<br /><br />Of all the patriarchs Jacob is the one whose life is entangled in moral ambiguities. Rashi beautifully catches the resonance of the name change: ‘it will no longer be said that the blessings came to you through deviousness…but instead through lordliness…and openness.’ (Alter 182)<br /><br />Jacob’s identity as the father of great nations and kings is important and was in need of transformation. It is much more attractive to be descended from someone named for godliness rather than grabbiness.<br /><br />After Jacob receives his new name, the story begins to wind down. The wrestling match is coming to a close and there is no clear victor. Both men have won at various points. The man could not win physically and so injured Jacob. He couldn’t free himself before dawn, but he is never forced to reveal his identity and he has the power to change the identity of Jacob. Jacob, although taken by surprise, was able to physically dominate the man even after sustaining an injury. Jacob asks for two things throughout the battle, but is only granted one. He is not allowed to know the man’s name, but he does receive his longed for blessing; a blessing he didn’t have to lie to get.<br /><br />Whoever the mystery man is—one of Jacob’s personal demons, a representation of Esau, an angel, a river spirit, God, or something else—he is able to bless Jacob. And because of this, Jacob is changed. Walter Brueggemann, working from the assumption that the man is God writes:<br /><br />Something happens in this transaction that is irreversible…Power has shifted between God and humankind. Israel is the one who has faced God, been touched by God, prevailed, gained a blessing, and been renamed. There is something new underway here about the weakness of God and the strength of Israel. The encounter will not permit a neat summary of roles, as though God is strong and Jacob is weak, or as though things are reversed with Jacob strong and God weak. All of that remains unsettled. But new possibilities are open to Israel that have not been available before. In the giving of the blessing, something of the power of God has been entrusted to Israel. (Brueggemann 269)<br /><br />While I disagree with Brueggemann’s assumption of the man’s identity, I am still compelled by his conception of Jacob’s transformation. Jacob is returning to a home he fled two decades ago after stealing the blessing of his brother. He is scared and guilty. Through this mysterious encounter, however, he is built up. He is given his own blessing. He still had to fight for it, ask for it and suffer for it, but it belonged to him and no one could take it away or claim that he stole it. As Brueggemann claimed above, the power dynamic had changed.<br /><br />This change is not lost on Jacob. He claims a new identity for himself and the place of his transformation. The ending of this story is beautiful; Jacob felt a divine presence in a way not many people get to and he celebrates it. He claims to have seen God face to face. The Hebrew term ‘elohim is used again and it’s impossible to know for sure who Jacob thought he saw, but it was clearly someone important. Someone so powerful that Jacob is amazed to have survived it. Following in the footsteps of Hagar at the well, he renamed the place Peniel, a name that builds on panim ‘el panim which literally means face to face, he wasn’t trying to hide his experience of the mysterious encounter (Alter 183). The last verse tells us that the story is complete; the sun rose and the night was over. Alter highlights the symmetry of this ending (Alter 183). As Jacob was fleeing home twenty years ago, the sun set on him, “He came to a certain place and stayed there for the night, because the sun had set” (Genesis 28:11). And now he walked towards home through the sunrise. “The encounter with the unfathomable Other [left] a lasting mark on [him]…and he [bore] his inward scars as he [lived] onward” (Alter 183). In other words, the man with a history now had a future. Jacob’s dark night had lifted and he was limping triumphantly towards home.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Conclusion (After Reflection and Research)</span><br /><br />In all of my study, I never came across an interpretation of this story as a metaphor for the spiritual journey. Robert Alter referred to the mysterious man as an “embodiment of portentous antagonism in Jacob’s dark night of the soul” (Alter 181). But that’s as close as I got. Before beginning this study, I believed my understanding to be common, I worried I was being too obvious. But unless I missed something, this story is always read as the hinge point in the middle of Jacob’s life. It’s understood as his conversion or transformation. The identity of the mystery man is something people have dwelled on for thousands of years. He is often thought to embody Esau, but many commentators just assume the man is God and work from there. Others, refuse to solve the mystery cleanly and allow the ambiguity to stand. As I stated in my original reflection on the text, I see the story of family drama. I see the moment of fear before returning home. It’s a grand story and I understand why it has captivated so many people for so incredibly long. But I leave this work more intrigued by what appears to be lacking in scholarship on this story and what I believe to be a fruitful reading. Human beings will always want to name the unnamable. Humanity has always and more than likely always will wrestle with conceptions of divinity. In this story I find a model for the struggle. As I fight with the unknown, I suffer. I refuse to let go and I want to be blessed. Everything about who I am is called into question and I am changed, yet I am never allowed to know who or what I fight with. At various points I am injured and at others I am blessed. I carry all of this with me and in the morning sun, I am made new.<br /><br /><br />(Let me know if you would like the bibliography.)Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-14310030611913323542008-11-30T09:33:00.000-08:002009-01-26T09:24:17.284-08:00Enjoying BreakI love Thanksgiving. I always have. This year has been particularly lovely. Jeremy and I decided to horde the holiday to ourselves and stay home and have an actual break. We started the week with a trip to see our favorite band in Chicago which allowed us to do some of our grocery shopping at Trader Joe's and Whole Foods. Then we came home and began relaxing. We've been sleeping in everyday, eating good food and working on creative projects. I've been painting Jacob's Hip as an accompaniment to the paper I'm writing on Genesis 32 and working on the paintings we'll give to our siblings for Christmas through our "Sibling Storyboard Project." Jeremy has been working on his book. Life gets back to normal tomorrow and we'll have a few whirlwind weeks before the sememster ends and we fly home for Christmas. I'm thankful for this week and for my husband, my favorite person to spend time with.Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-47877937685557611422008-11-02T15:54:00.000-08:002008-11-02T15:58:50.834-08:00Scholarship<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYgWxbPIu1GSaJorSWsgwwr_9DstOIQEYtZmDNJOHVm7m5crVBPSUbieo6TTHHmyPwBUUEr6s-1_yC3e3Wm2eRKZ57gOhqW7M3JatOob2fxczW6iJfNGdPmMaSXB1OBNoQPmXK1ZLwHRs-/s1600-h/Photo+141.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYgWxbPIu1GSaJorSWsgwwr_9DstOIQEYtZmDNJOHVm7m5crVBPSUbieo6TTHHmyPwBUUEr6s-1_yC3e3Wm2eRKZ57gOhqW7M3JatOob2fxczW6iJfNGdPmMaSXB1OBNoQPmXK1ZLwHRs-/s320/Photo+141.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264213911210486306" border="0" /></a><br />Look what I got today!! A $1,000 scholarship from a local UU church I've been attending (infrequently...). It couldn't come at a better time. My Cooper Scholar funds, which cover tuition for 54 credits, are about to run out. I will have a tuition bill in January for my May term class and this scholarship will cover it. I'm pretty happy for the support!Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-25940601719777569592008-10-30T14:00:00.000-07:002008-10-30T14:03:50.548-07:00The Gospel of MarkAnother mini-sermon for you...<br /><br />I have had several classes in this room and I am always struck by the quote on the wall by Elton Trueblood: "Jesus Christ can be accepted; He can be rejected; He cannot reasonably be ignored." Like most people, I grew up knowing of Jesus, I’d heard of him. But I was formally introduced to him over eight years ago. Since then, Jesus and I have had a tumultuous relationship. Whatever my struggles with him have been, however, I haven’t been able to ignore him. Elton Trueblood is right.<br /> <br />I must admit that when I realized our class readings had transitioned into the New Testament this week, I was a bit disappointed. There is something about the New Testament that keeps me at arms length. Of course, the character of Jesus is probably the biggest reason. And I suppose the fact that I was originally trained to read the New Testament by fundamentalist Christians doesn’t help. But there’s just something different about the stories, they don’t grab me and suck me in in the same way the stories in the Hebrew Bible do.<br /> <br />But, I’m probably being unfair. Maybe I’m trying too hard to ignore Jesus, to shove him aside, to devalue the stories that surround him. Because, as I read the first eight chapters of the Gospel of Mark this weekend, I was reminded of two stories. Two stories I have always loved. The story of the leper in chapter one and the story of the hemorrhaging woman in chapter five. These stories don’t allow me to ignore Jesus. In fact, they force me to look deeply at him. And more importantly, they challenge me to a better vision of and relationship with the world I inhabit.<br /> <br />Let me read these two stories to you:<br /><br /><ul><li>A leper came to him begging him, and kneeling he said to him, “If you choose, you can make me clean.” Moved with pity, Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, “I do choose. Be made clean!” Immediately the leprosy left him, and he was made clean. (Mark 1:40-42)</li></ul><br /><ul><li>Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse. She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, for she said, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.” Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my clothes?” And his disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, “Who touched me?” He looked all around to see who had done it. But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.” (5:25-34)</li></ul><br />Both of these people had been suffering for a long time. Because of their ailments, leprosy and bleeding, they were considered unclean and were not allowed to participate in community life. For years, they had been forced into painful isolation, but the gift of touch healed them.<br /> <br />A few years ago, I worked among the people often considered unclean today, the people shoved into the alleys and forced out of sight. The mentally ill and homeless. For two years, I worked among women in Spokane, WA and for the only time in my life, I was on a first name basis with a lot of the people begging for money on the street corners and talking to themselves as they wandered aimlessly through downtown. The people often considered too dirty or frightening or weird to pay attention to. Inside the center where I worked, however, these women were acknowledged and known by name. They were allowed their full humanity and freed from their isolation. The simple gestures of reaching, of looking, of listening, of touching, these gestures, just as for the leprous man and the bleeding woman, worked miracles. For two years I witnessed countless miracles in the lives of these women, all brought about through relationship.<br /><br />I don’t know how many times I have read the story of the leprous man in chapter one, too many to count. But the power of this story, the power of Jesus’ first response, that of reaching and touching, has never weakened for me. I struggle with Jesus, I struggle with much about Christian theology, but I do not struggle with the message of this story. This man, most likely yelling “unclean, unclean” as he approached Jesus, was touched, probably for the first time in years. I can’t imagine the isolation that would come with permanent separation from human contact. It is clear that Jesus understood it, though, because his first response to this man was touch.<br /><br />The story of the bleeding woman is similar, but not identical. She tried to stay hidden, she didn’t ask for Jesus’ attention, she attempted to gain the healing touch without forcing him to notice her. But it didn’t work. The healing comes from the attention, in the act of being noticed and included as a full member of society. Jesus stopped and wouldn’t continue any further until she was given this attention. He wanted to look at her, to hear her story and to voice his offer of peace to her. He didn’t want her to remain on the outside of society any longer.<br /><br />These gracious acts of attention, inclusion and touch do not require divinity. So while I continue to struggle with theologies around Jesus’ divinity, I’m not struggling with his humanity. A humanity that I share, that I see in these two stories and that I saw at the center in Spokane. These stories challenge me to fully embrace my humanity and the humanity of everyone around me. They challenge me to look deeply into my life and figure out who I have stuck in the “unclean” category. I don’t know if you’ve ever attempted this task—it’s a difficult one. But as these New Testament stories tell us and as I witnessed in the lives of the women in Spokane, this work and the actions that can follow it, could prove to be miraculous.Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-57948848791854632632008-10-21T13:24:00.000-07:002008-10-30T14:03:34.882-07:00IsaiahWe had to write mini sermons from Isaiah in my Bible: Violence and Nonviolence class and read them to each other today. Here's what I came up with-<br /><br /><br />Isaiah: Chapter 24<br /><br /><ul><li>Now the Lord is about to lay waste the earth and make it desolate, and he will twist its surface and scatter its inhabitants. And it shall be, as with the people, so with the priest; as with the slave, so with his master; as with the maid, so with her mistress; as with the buyer, so with the seller; as with the lender, so with the borrower; as with the creditor, so with the debtor. The earth shall be utterly laid waste and utterly despoiled; for the Lord has spoken this word. (24:1-3)</li></ul>This text offers an utterance of judgment and desolation. These are the first few verses in a chapter that continues to convey doom to all peoples, the earth, the sun and the moon; even the host of heaven. No one and nothing will be saved from the wrath this text speaks of.<br /><br />In the middle of this chapter, however, there are a few verses of praise:<br /><ul><li>They lift up their voices, they sing for joy; they shout from the west over the majesty of the Lord. Therefore in the east give glory to the Lord; in the coastland of the sea glorify the name of the Lord, the God of Israel. From the ends of the earth we hear songs of praise, of glory to the Righteous One. (14-16a)</li></ul>There is unity in both desolation and praise. These verses speak of all people, both easterners and westerners from the ends of the earth. This praise, however, feels jarring and odd in the middle of a chapter of doom. But just as the judgment was interrupted with spontaneous praise, so the praise will be interrupted with an odd, secretive word of warning “But I say, I pine away, I pine away. Woe is me! For the treacherous deal treacherously, the treacherous deal very treacherously” (16b). This is not a chapter of joy and two and a half verses of praise cannot detract from the images of prisoners in pits and snares and an utterly broken earth.<br /><br />This chapter is apocalyptic. In vivid, sometimes sublimely beautiful language, it communicates the destruction of the earth and of unending punishment. Yet, oddly enough, this isn’t what I heard when I first read it. The second verse struck me and pulled me into a sudden awareness. I stopped and re-read it:<br /><ul><li>And it shall be, as with the people, so with the priest; as with the slave, so with his master; as with the maid, so with her mistress; as with the buyer, so with the seller; as with the lender, so with the borrower; as with the creditor, so with the debtor. (24:2)</li></ul>To this list I would add, as with the mentally stable, so with the mentally ill; as with the fulfilled, so with the downtrodden; as with the pious, so with the atheists; as with those with all the answers, so with those filled with questions. The list could continue for pages. What surprises me is how well the original list in Isaiah still speaks to my era. People are still doing the same things, filling the same roles.<br /><br />But this isn’t what struck me, what struck me was the fact of unity in both existence and in death. Human beings seem to find distinctions between everything and everyone. I understand that we need these distinctions in some ways to make sense of the world and to understand who we are as individuals. But, too often we allow these distinctions to take over and remove all mystery from our existence.<br /><br />We miss the connection that we have to everything else in our world, simply through our shared existence and inescapable death. The world is an unexplainable miracle. The fact that I can think enough to even come up with distinctions is a miracle. The fact that I can feel both love and hate, happiness and anger is miraculous. To the list in vs. 2 I should also add, as with me, so with you. We all exist and we will all die. This is the mystery and the miracle that we all share and that we are all blessed and cursed by.<br /><br />It is important to remember that the twenty-fourth chapter of Isaiah not only cuts down the distinctions between you and me, but also between you and me and the dirt, you and me and the sun and the moon, even between you and me and the mysterious hosts of heaven. The mystery of creation extends ever outward from every small, visible piece of existence towards every invisible and unknowable thing. When it comes to existence and death, we are a unified creation. In horrific and terrifying terms, the twenty-fourth chapter of Isaiah reminds us of this fact.<br /><br />And yet, the book of Isaiah ends in terms of separation. The thirteenth and fourteenth verses of chapter sixty-five read:<br /><ul><li>Therefore thus says the Lord God: My servants shall eat, but you shall be hungry; my servants shall drink, but you shall be thirsty; my servants shall rejoice, but you shall be put to shame; my servants shall sing for gladness of heart, but you shall cry out for pain of heart, and shall wail for anguish of spirit. (65:13-14)</li></ul>These verses read as an antithesis to Isaiah 24:2. I understand that directly comparing these two sections might be considered unfair to the text. I know that this book is about worshipping God correctly and speaks of God’s punishment of his people through their enemies. I know that various parts of this book speak of the desolation of God’s people and in other parts of the restoration of God’s people. And that at various times, God is punishing various people. But, I still find the direct comparison helpful. These two sections offer me a choice.<br /><br />In the painful words of chapter 24, I feel a reminder of my relationship to all of creation. I feel the mystery of my connection to every other existent thing. In chapter 65, however, I read words of separation. Words that do not fill me with hope of restoration. The last two verses of Isaiah speak of this separation in even bolder terms:<br /><br /><ul><li>From new moon to new moon, and from Sabbath to Sabbath, all flesh shall come to worship before me, says the Lord. And they shall go out and look at the dead bodies of the people who have rebelled against me; for their worm shall not die, their fire shall not be quenched, and they shall be an abhorrence to all flesh. (65:23-24)</li></ul>I do not want to stand over the dead in celebration. I do not want victory and restoration at the cost of someone else's suffering. I also don’t want someone else’s victory and restoration at the cost of my suffering. I want the irrational possibility of unity. I want the irrational possibility that restoration will come and that it will look like vs. 2 in Isaiah 24: as with you, so with me. I don’t want this unity to come in desolation though, I want it to come with a word of hope. I want it to come with a continued and sustainable remembrance of our unity. A unity that comes through the mysterious, miraculous fact of our shared existence.Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-22358980563080597752008-10-02T09:20:00.000-07:002008-10-02T09:46:04.024-07:00The Interior CastleWhat is the soul? Is it separate from the body? I am an embodied creature, I can't understand anything outside of my gut, limbs, thoughts and vision. I can look in mirrors, but I will never look myself straight in the eye. I must depend on others for that experience. I can look at the face of another and be looked at by another, but I cannot look upon the face of myself. I can cross my eyes and see my nose, but where does that leave me besides dizzy?<br /><br />The seminary experience is intense. I am forced daily to look both inward and out, to decide what the big questions are and to struggle towards answering them. I have come to the conclusion that the big questions will never be answered. The big questions are by definition, (in my mind anyway) unanswerable. But the wrestling, that's where the work is done. So I don't believe in a God that speaks or watches or cares. So what. I do believe in the mystery and holiness of life. I believe in the mystery and holiness of prayer. I believe in the mystery and holiness of relationship. I believe in the mystery and holiness of nature, of roots and oceans.<br /><br />Who am I praying to? I guess I'm not praying to anything. I'm simply expressing the deepest groans of my heart. I'm adding these groans to the collective groans building up in the air that surrounds me. I'm breathing in and out. I'm choosing life, even though I know death is coming.<br /><br />I was utterly humiliated last week. I'm writing about my relationship with my mother and my draft was discussed in my class workshop. At the end I started sobbing. The wounds and demons of the relationship were too big, too raw to deal with in the detached mode one needs to remain in while in a critique situation. I left the room. I never wanted to go back. I am not a person who shows weakness. I am strong and I need people to know it.<br /><br />In my <span style="font-style: italic;">Bible: Violence and Nonviolence</span> class we've been reading the book of Judges. Chapter 19 is awful. Chapter 11 is awful. I've been struggling with them for a year now. How am I supposed to carry the pain of these stories within me, within my soul. I am a person who feels pain. The pain of animals taken to slaughter. The pain of the women I worked with at the Hearth in Spokane. The pain of poverty and racism I witnessed in North Lawndale in Chicago. The pain of the women in the book of Judges. My own pain over my failed relationship with my mother. Where do I put it? Where do I hold it?<br /><br />I'm reading <span style="font-style: italic;">The Interior Castle</span> by Teresa of Avila. I'm painting the seven dwelling places of the soul that she outlines. I'm giving a presentation about them to my History of Christianity class. I'm trying to understand them. I'm trying to follow her, even though my language of the holy is different than hers. I'm trying to understand how to find my soul. How to see it, how to feel it.Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-48002002777912638572008-08-18T15:29:00.000-07:002009-01-26T09:25:23.753-08:00White DaisiesFor the August Intensive I took a writing class. It was amazing to be talking about art again! It made me realize how much I had missed discussions of creativity during my first year of seminary. We had to write a short memoir during the class. Here's what I wrote:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">White Daisies</span><br /></div><br />I slowly open my eyes and realize it’s bright outside and that I feel rested, not the feeling of waking up early to an alarm clock. I roll over, check the time and then bury my face in my pillow. I’d been making this gesture a lot lately—hiding. Closing my eyes, shutting my mouth tightly, holding my breath and pulling the covers over my head. It’s my eighteenth birthday and I overslept. I had left my parents house about a month ago and was now living up on the south hill in my 22-year old aunt’s house, well technically, her rich boyfriend’s house. It was quite a distance from North Central High School, the place I should be at the moment. I knew Pete had come to pick me up. I wonder how long he sat outside the house. I wonder where he thought I was. I wonder how angry he is. I curl up tighter; I push back tears. I’m learning to swallow water through my eyes. How the hell am I going to get to school? <br /><br />I finally get up and walk around the huge, quiet house. Even though it’s a wide open house with vaulted ceilings, the air is somehow oppressive. I walk quietly through it, looking for life. I find haze and signs of a late night. Of course, these signs aren’t necessarily from the night I had just woken up from. Sarah and Kevin don’t keep regular hours, and they aren’t exactly housekeepers. I sit on a stool in the kitchen and try to find a place to rest my arm. I think about Pete. Shit. I can’t believe I overslept. I can’t believe I missed my birthday. I wonder if my parents will remember. Will I talk to them today? Will this be the first birthday in my life that I don’t hear the happy birthday song from the lips of my mother and sister? I tell myself not to think about it. I’ve got to get to school. I can’t miss anymore school or they won’t pass me. I can’t fail out of high school. That’s just not something I can deal with right now. I want to go and smash my face back into my pillow, but finally I decide to call my grandmother. I whisper into the phone that I overslept and have no way to get to school. She tells me to go upstairs and wake up Sarah. She sounds as if she can’t understand why this was such an elusive plan. I timidly walk into their bedroom and try not to step on anything, but there are very few patches of bare carpet. I tap Sarah on the shoulder and quietly apologize and explain that I need a ride to school. She doesn’t make a big deal out of it, just rises.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">---<br /></div><br />I left my parents house for several reasons. The snapping point happened when my mother told me that I couldn’t stay out all night for prom and that if I wouldn’t follow the rules of her house then I could go and live somewhere else. Of course, that was just a tangible reason. The actual problems were much harder to name and to touch. Leaving had been scary, but so had screaming and fighting all the time. So was never knowing whether I would be coming home to my drunk mother, my sober mother, or my stoned mother. I had left because I couldn’t breath inside that house anymore, I just didn’t fit there. After my mom got remarried, I never managed to figure out the role of suburban teenager. I had been thrown into it too late, after too much.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">---<br /></div><br />I get to school between second and third period, the hall is buzzing. I just mix right in with hundreds of other students. My stomach is swirling, I’m trying to hold on. Heidi and Brianna find me. They hug me and tell me happy birthday. They want to know if I’m OK. They have balloons and presents back at their locker. They had been waiting for me to arrive in the morning, standing prepared to greet me with everything, but I missed it. I have to find Pete.<br /><br />The bell rings and I leave for the auto shop classrooms. I walk outside and down the hill. I see him standing just outside the garage door listening to someone. I can’t see who because his back is turned. But then Pete notices me. His eyes leave the face of whoever he’s talking to and stare at me. His mouth slowly reshapes itself into a dry smile. He stands there stationary and watches me walk down the hill toward him. We share a mutual look of disappointment. My stomach continues to spin and my heart’s at the top of my throat. He had brought me a bouquet of white daisies this morning, but after waiting outside forever, knocking at the door, crawling into the backyard and knocking on my bedroom window, he had given up. He told me that I’d messed everything up. He had thrown them out the window as he drove back towards the high school. I wonder who found them. I wanted to go back in time. I wanted to greet my eighteenth birthday with the sound of his car and a bouquet of flowers. Those are the romantic moments that stick with you. I had missed mine. I wonder if I passed the flowers on the road. I hope my aunt didn’t run them over.Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-86998585996205421462008-07-27T09:06:00.000-07:002008-07-27T10:04:06.896-07:00Reverent AgnosticI just finished reading the book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Year-Living-Biblically-Literally-Possible/dp/0743291476/ref=pd_bbs_sr_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1217176513&sr=8-2"><span style="font-style: italic;">The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible</span></a> by A.J. Jacobs. It's a great book--especially for a seminarian--but hilarious for anyone. I highly recommend it! One of the last paragraphs struck me and verbalized something I've been thinking about for awhile. Here's the paragraph:<br /><br />Do I believe in a traditional biblical God? Well, not in the sense that the ancient Israelites believed in Him. I could never make the full leap to accepting a God who rolls up His sleeves and fiddles with our lives like a novelist does his characters. I'm still agnostic. But in the words of Elton Richards, I'm now a reverent agnostic. Which isn't an oxymoron, I swear. I now believe that whether or not there's a God, there is such a thing as sacredness. Life is sacred. The Sabbath can be a sacred day. Prayer can be a sacred ritual. There is something transcendent, beyond the everyday. It's possible that humans created this sacredness ourselves, but that doesn't take away from its power or importance. (329)<br /><br />This is a beautiful paragraph. And I find it to be full of truth, even as I struggle with the word transcendent and admit to being fairly confident that "humans created sacredness ourselves," even though I have no proof either way! <br /><br />I believe that sacredness is found in the immanent realm of earthy, everyday life. I must admit, however, that I also believe in mystery and miracles. Yes, miracles. Our lives--our very existence--is miraculous. Our ability to love and dance and offer kindness is miraculous. I believe that paying attention to the sacred makes us better, kinder, more open people. I believe that paying attention to sacred days like the sabbath and sacred rituals like prayer and sacred traditions like my Easter dinner with friends gives rhythm, meaning and beauty to our lives. <br /><br />Believing in mystery means I don't have to have answers to why there is life on the planet earth or what happens when living creatures cease to breath. I don't know, I can't know. I can, however, ponder and wonder and be amazed. I can be thankful that I get to play a part in this big, confusing mystery. <br /><br />I can be a reverent agnostic.Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-65473741608839062552008-07-16T11:20:00.000-07:002008-12-08T19:08:41.063-08:00I am not an athlete.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisabn258SeqeVNPz7fhZv_yFKAuyf-7EQybKazGHDv6RrDYhwWfq8FwAdw9n72oBD_su7jS8xhHaw9xugExIbXjwvXJOVa-bmXE7MGs_vQsS2mjKwn3uWw50DUrEoFc3hK1e9X2hwouMCs/s1600-h/Done___Getting_a_high_five_f.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisabn258SeqeVNPz7fhZv_yFKAuyf-7EQybKazGHDv6RrDYhwWfq8FwAdw9n72oBD_su7jS8xhHaw9xugExIbXjwvXJOVa-bmXE7MGs_vQsS2mjKwn3uWw50DUrEoFc3hK1e9X2hwouMCs/s320/Done___Getting_a_high_five_f.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223679112824759522" border="0" /></a><br />I have never been an athlete. I have never considered myself strong or fast or competitive or capable of training and training. I didn't grow up playing sports or watching sports.<br /><br />But, here I am, running across the finish line of a triathlon after training and training for months. I look at this picture and say, wow! I am a <span style="font-weight: bold;">triathlete</span>. It's an amazing feeling and I must admit, I am pretty dang proud of myself.<br /><br />The <a href="http://www.danskin.com/triathlon.html">Danskin</a> all women's sprint distance triathlon is an amazing event. It's the biggest single multi-sport event in the world. Each year they run a series of races all over the country. I don't know how many women compete in each location, but there were over 4,000 athletes in my race (in Pleasant Prairie, WI). It was an incredible experience to be among so many women being physical. It was the guys turn to watch and cheer and take pictures, the women were running (and swimming and biking)!<br /><br />Over half the entrants (like myself) had never done a triathlon before and we rallied and cheered each other on all day. There were women of all different shapes and sizes, some with huge biceps, some with huge bellies. It didn't matter. There were cancer survivors and elderly women. When I lined up for the swim, I noticed a daughter, mother and grandmother lining up together behind me. I starting crying several times throughout the expo and race day. The spirit of the entire event was amazing and overwhelming. It was powerful.<br /><br />One of the entrants in my race was a 78 year old woman. She did the swim, went out on her bike, fell off her bike and cut her face open. She went to the hospital and got stitches in her face. And then, she came back and finished the run! I got to watch her come across the finish line with her daughter who was also in the race. It was unbelievable.<br /><br />There are four official lengths of triathlons:<br /><ol><li>Sprint 1/2 mile swim, 12.4 mile bike, 3.1 mile run (what I did)<br /></li><li>Olympic .93 mile swim, 24.8 mile bike, 6.2 mile run<br /></li><li>Half Iron 1.5 mile swim, 56 mile bike, 13.1 mile run<br /></li><li>Ironman 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile run</li></ol>I would love to work my way up to the Olympic. We'll see!<br /><br />Here are my official times:<br /><br />Swim 18:37<br />First Transition 4:10<br />Bike 47:20<br />Second Transition 2:03<br />Run 32:08<br />Final Time 1:44:19<br />Placed 1,377 out of 3,650 finishers.<br /><br />My sister is swimming as part of a relay team in the Seattle event happening August 17th. If you're near the area, go cheer her on! It's an amazing thing to see. Go sister!<br /><br />Who wants to do it with me next year??Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-43166461792584661922008-07-03T16:00:00.000-07:002008-07-03T13:17:13.486-07:00I am who I am.<span style="font-weight: bold;">God said to Moses, "I am who I am." Exodus 3:14</span><br /><br />What an amazing sentiment. I sit here wondering, however, if it's quite that simple. I am who I think I am, but I am also who everyone else thinks I am. So who does everyone else think I am? I am beginning to learn that I care more about this than I realized. But I'm sure I think about it more than others actually think about me. The thing is, I have discovered an internal insecurity of being perceived as flaky or inconsistent. The odd part is, I'm pretty darn sure I'm not flaky and inconsistent. So why the insecurity? I think it stems from the way I live my life. I'm a wonderer and a seeker, I move a lot and I'm constantly swimming around in new ideas and visions. So, if you only see me once a year, I can seem pretty different with each visit. And because of this, I worry people think I'm a flake!<br /><br />One of my teachers told me she's going to make me a sign to wear around that reads "I'm an explorer and I don't have everything figured out just yet." Of course, I think she intends the sign mostly for my reading! She is trying to tell me to give myself the permission to live and think and grow without a clear understanding of the end result. She's trying to help me resist my urge to wrap everything up in neat little boxes with labels that I can hand out to my friends and family. She's reminding me of my goal to slow my brain down and listen to wise words like the ones Jeremy recently uttered as I was trying to over plan everything, "we're in a wait-and-see mode!"<br /><br />But, of course, I am who I am and I don't like to wait and see and I worry people will misinterpret my lack of a clear end result for flakiness. But I must be somewhat on the right track . . . for I live in Indiana and I wouldn't do that just for fun.Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-91245363124291220962008-05-29T13:37:00.000-07:002008-06-12T07:24:11.345-07:00Reflections for my Clearness CommitteeI've just finished one of the required courses in my program. It's called Discernment of Calls and Gifts. This class asks us to reflect on our personal and professional life experiences, our spiritual gifts and our personality (we took the Myers Briggs Type Indicator and the Enneagram). We read several books and wrote several papers and spent a great deal of time in discussion, both with the full class and with a regular small group. It was a wonderful experience and I have several books that I think everyone should read. Top of the list is "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/How-Then-Shall-Live-Questions/dp/0553375059/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1212094560&sr=8-1">How Then Shall We Live</a>" by Wayne Muller. Get it and read it!<br /><br />The final project of the class is to undergo the Quaker process of a <a href="http://www.servantleadergreensboro.com/clearness-committee.html">Clearness Committee</a>. A Clearness Committee is a useful tool for personal and corporate discernment. And it's actually one of the first things I learned about the Quakers. In our Clearness Committees we are being asked to consider our vocational calling and what emphasis we want to pursue during the final two years of seminary. We write a paper for the member's of our committee (mine is made up of 3 fellow seminarians and Kari Boyd who will be visiting me next week). This is what I wrote for them:<br /><br /><br />In <span style="font-style: italic;">How Then Shall We Live</span>, Wayne Muller asks four questions: <span style="font-style: italic;">Who Am I?, What Do I Love?, How Shall I live, Knowing I will Die?, and What Is My Gift to the Family of the Earth?</span>. I find these to be the most important questions a person can ask themselves. And as we live into our lives, our answers will invariably evolve, mature and grow, but I believe we can find deep personal truths that stay with us as we repeatedly reflect on them. As I have worked to discern the dreams of my personal and vocational life I have discovered some of my own responses to these questions and hence, some of my own truths. Some of my deepest truths contain answers to Muller’s first three questions, truth about my inner self and my relationship with love and death. And as I better understand my inner life, I am able to work towards answering the fourth question: what will the gift of my unique existence be?<br /><br />One of the truths that I am finally claiming is my identity as a spiritual person. After years of riding roller coasters with religion, I am able to name the fact that I do not believe in a personal God. I am not a Christian. But I contain within me, a deep understanding that I am a spiritual being. The very fact that I and everything else that I see <span style="font-style: italic;">exists</span> is an overwhelming mystery, a holy mystery. The very fact of existence—the existence of the universe, the planet earth, the dirt I garden in, the tree in my front yard, my sister, my cats, myself—points towards an unexplainable life force that permeates through and connects everything. As a unique living being, I am connected to every other unique living being, even when the connection is as simple as mutual existence. It is this understanding of relationship and connection that pulls me towards spirituality and a belief in a holy space between—the space between me and every individual and animal I come in contact with, as well as the space between me and grass and water and trees and clouds. It is in this space that I find the sacred, the space of regular life. My understanding is reflected in the words of Wayne Muller:<br /><br />Spiritual identity is not something far off, not something we need to go to Tibet to find. It is here, in the way we walk on the earth, the way we see our life, the way we care for ourselves and others. Our true nature is not something extraordinary; in fact, it is quite ordinary, an inevitable portion of our daily life. (Muller 64)<br /><br />These words sing of truth and holiness to me. They speak of the sacred. And they allow me to take a deep breath. They allow me to get off the roller coaster I’ve been riding, to stop attempting to wear the spirituality of others and claim my own religious path. My own very ordinary path of life.<br /> <br />As I examine my ordinary path of life in light of Muller’s forth question: <span style="font-style: italic;">What Is My Gift to the Family of the Earth?</span>, I am struck by a few dreams that have remained with me for several years. Over the course of my life, I have dreamt of numerous vocational ideas, but only a handful have stuck and have traveled with me wherever life has gone. As I examine them all together, I am struck by the ways they both do and don’t seem to fit together. If I could put them all together and create my dream vocation, my dream life, it would be to own a spirituality center, a place where people can work to answer Muller’s questions for themselves. This center would include components of physical life, intellectual life, and emotional life—body, mind and soul. I would offer group and individual spiritual direction, art classes, Pilates classes, and I would work with couples as they prepare for and enter into marriage. I would journey with people through the ordinary steps of life. I would share the <span style="font-style: italic;">sacred space between</span> with them as they discover their spirituality, heal from their wounds and find and fulfill their dreams.<br /> <br />Part of my personality is dreaming. I love to dream about the future. I love to dream about my spirituality center and the work that I could do within it. But, I also have a strong hold on reality and understand that there are many steps between me and this center. Beyond needing more money and business skills, I would need ordination in order to legally perform weddings and I would need to become certified in order to teach Pilates. There are several practical details that need deep consideration. But beyond the practical considerations, there are also considerations about my own personal calls and gifts. These considerations require a discipline of slowing down and listening, of struggling to answer Muller’s four questions from a place of authentic reflection. Who am I and what do I love? How do I live with my own mortality and what will I do with my one chance at life? <br /> <br />As I have spent time discerning the answers to these questions, I have been working through my own history. I have been reflecting on where I’ve been, what I’ve survived, who I’ve met, and what I’ve done. Through this process—sometimes joyful and sometimes painful—I have discovered several truths about myself. One of the most important personal achievements of this process has been granting myself permission to approach spirituality in my own authentic way. I have also come to the conclusion that pursuing my Masters of Divinity degree is the right choice. After a difficult first year, I know that I am moving in the direction I need to go. In his book <span style="font-style: italic;">Let Your Life Speak</span>, Parker Palmer says “Vocation at its deepest level is, ‘This is something I can’t not do, for reasons I’m unable to explain to anyone else and don’t fully understand myself but that are nonetheless compelling’ (Palmer 25). I may not be able to fully explain why I moved to Indiana to become a seminarian, or why I want to journey with strangers through the ups and downs of their lives, but I know that I am being compelled in these directions. I know that I am listening to my life and moving towards a vocation that can be my “gift to the family of the earth.”<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">***<br /></div><br />In my life I have dealt with family dysfunction that included alcohol and substance abuse as well as highly skilled manipulation. But I have also felt the love, safety and support of family. Like most people, I can’t paint one simplistic picture of my family dynamics. Throughout my childhood and early adulthood, I’ve dealt with overwhelming feelings of being out of control and angry. I have had to struggle through my need to gain control and to release my need for constant control. I have had to work towards forgiveness and patience in order to let go of deep-seated anger. I have had to teach myself how to allow spontaneity, joy and openness to be regular aspects of my life. I have been blessed with faithful people willing to stand next to me through the dark days of healing. I have learned the importance of mutual relationships, where two human beings open their hearts to each other and truly know one another. I also appreciate the value of one sided relationships, in which one person provides space for another person to grow and heal without the need for anything in return.<br /><br />I have been blessed by two professional adventures that have allowed me to test the inner urges compelling me towards the work of journeying with strangers. I worked with women in a downtown Spokane, WA day-center who suffered from homelessness, mental illness and basic isolation from society. I filled several roles in my two years at the center. I sat with women and listened to their stories, I hung their artwork on the walls for city wide art walks, I taught them computer skills, I carved pumpkins with them on Halloween. I celebrated birthdays and cried at memorial services with them; I shared daily life with them. I trained our volunteers and created a community volunteer position so that the women who came to the center could also volunteer in the center. I also worked on the development side of this organization, and hence, worked with men from rotary clubs and women from the junior league. I learned about people from every walk of life. Just before leaving this job, I wrote a sermon called <span style="font-style: italic;">Living Service</span>, in which I explicated my belief that human beings are not service projects.<br /><br />In inner city Chicago I taught creative writing and art appreciation to people ranging in age from seventeen to sixty in an adult learning and GED center. I created assignments designed to expose my students to things they might never have seen. I brought in postcards of master artworks from the Art Institute of Chicago and had my students do master studies of them and write fictional stories of the scene being portrayed in their work. After working intimately with their chosen work for almost a month, we took a field trip to the Institute (for some of them, it was their first trip into downtown Chicago, despite having lived less than 5 miles away their entire lives) where they were able to see the original work in person. As someone who has studied art for years, it was a tremendous gift to be able to see beloved works afresh through the eyes of my students. I gained a whole new appreciation for the importance of art in our world and access to art museums for all people.<br /> <br />As I have reflected on these and so many other experiences, I have discovered a few things about who I am and how I operate in the world. I like to be challenged, I like to be creative. I enjoy being at least partially in charge. I realize that when I’m not in charge or not inspired, I can mentally detach from a project. I like variety. I can’t do the same thing everyday. I need human interaction, I feel suffocated by too much alone time. I am strong and independent, protective and loyal. I am a self-starter and a hard worker. I know when someone is trying to manipulate me, and I know how to manipulate. But I have worked hard to cure myself of manipulating others. I am organized and smart. I am capable of offering mercy and encouragement to people. I don’t run away from pain. I can offer an open presence to people who are suffering. I am a problem solver, but am working on not always trying to solve every problem people share with me. I enjoy intentional relationships such as small groups of people coming together for quiet and prayerful sharing. But I also enjoy loud and crazy dinner parties where four conversations are happening at once and I’m involved in all of them. I am capable of offering great love to others, of offering my full self to them. But I am also capable of putting up a wall of silence that locks people out. I’ve worked hard and continue to work hard to knock this wall down. I realize it’s a wall of protection, one I built up during some of the out of control days of growing up. But I have also learned that sometimes it’s OK to be out of control, to let go and have fun, to run and dance and laugh and travel. And I have recently felt a pull towards more quiet in my life, something that I have feared before. I am slowly moving toward a regular meditative practice. My appreciation for the natural world, both for my art practice and my basic enjoyment of living, has grown. And I have recently felt compelled to write. I find writing to be a meditative act and I have two major writing projects planned. I am basically a happy person. I’ve suffered from fear and anger, but never really depression. I am content with my life, satisfied with my past journey and hopeful for what’s coming next.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">***<br /></div><br />As I look forward to the future and my dream of a spirituality center, I am trying to avoid my usual pitfall of obsessive planning. I am trying to take it one step at a time and to test and develop my gifts. I want to give more of myself to art making and writing. I want to develop a strong meditative practice. I want to continue the new experience of hard and regular exercise, of engaging in my physicality. I want to learn to slow down and take every day and every step one at a time, while also maintaining my ability to dream and plan.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">***<br /></div><br />Questions for Discernment:<br /><br />• I am sensing a leading to listen and journey with individuals, couples and groups in a way that would include aspects of body, mind and soul. Can you affirm this leading? What gifts do you see in me with regards to this leading? What challenges?<br /><br />• What issues do I need to work on or other preparation do I need in order to be better prepared to move towards this leading?<br /><br />• In my MDiv program, I am torn between the Spirituality and Writing emphases. What connections do you see between these two areas of focus and my gifts, experience and leading?Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-76087303180190643592008-04-29T07:46:00.000-07:002008-06-12T07:24:48.176-07:00Soteriology For The Material World{Here's my theology paper on Soteriology, which is the doctrine of salvation}<br /><br />Jesus of Nazareth died. I don’t know anyone who would disagree with this fact. There is, however, much disagreement as to what happened next. Christians believe that he rose from the dead, appeared to his disciples, and ascended to the father in heaven—offering salvation to his people in the process. Many people think of this as simply a far-fetched story, and there are countless others who because of differing religious views, believe it to be heresy. So while the death of Jesus is most certainly a fact (for death comes to all of us), his resurrection is a much harder detail to confirm. However, while the resurrection may or may not be a historical fact, the existence of the story of it is very real. The resurrection of Jesus did happen, at least in the religious narrative of Christianity. And within this narrative, belief in Jesus’ death and resurrection brings one salvation. The problem with a narrative of salvation that requires a death is its effect on humanity’s relationship to suffering. <br /> <br />Narratives, especially dominant narratives, are always wrapped up in history. In the last chapter of New Testament Story, David L. Barr discusses the nature of history. He recognizes the fact that “History always remains a tentative reconstruction of the past based on the available evidence, which must then be rigorously tested.” In relation to the historical method of testing evidence, he notes:<br /><br />Generally, modern historians are trained to be skeptical of their sources, to subject them to careful analysis, to prefer empirical and testable data, and to use only natural explanations. These factors raise problems for the ancient historian, whose sources are few and distant, but the last point raises special problems in investigating religions. <br /><br />Supernatural stories of resurrection are difficult to rigorously test. Barr goes on to say that the available sources regarding Jesus of Nazareth are documents of “faith and imagination.” In other words, all we know about the resurrection of Jesus, and what it means for salvation, is what we can glean from the ancient stories people wrote about him. The narrative is all we have.<br /><br />People can—and many do—spend their lives searching for proof of an actual resurrection or an accurate portrait of the historical Jesus. Others choose to spend their energy discerning the symbolic meaning of the narrative. Some want physical proof, while others are willing to simply accept the narrative as a divine story. Both styles of inquiry are ultimately after the same thing—an attempt to understand who God is and what the means and meaning of salvation are. Regardless of whether the narrative is viewed as a historical fact, religious symbolism, or mere nonsense, its influences on the world’s view of salvation can’t be denied. Religious narratives, such as the terribly familiar death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, are powerful. Barr is right, they are stories of human ‘faith and imagination.’ And as such, they act in the material world. <br /><br />The Christian narrative identifies the death of a man believed to be innocent—Jesus of Nazareth—as the redemptive act that offered salvation to all of humanity. It is believed that by Jesus’ innocent suffering, the guilty are set free, they are saved. Therefore, the suffering experienced by Jesus is celebrated. Implicit in the Christian narrative, then, is the notion that suffering can be good for humanity, that it can be something worthy of celebration. Arguably, without the suffering and death of Jesus Christ salvation cannot be attained. As the Book of Hebrews puts it, “But we do see Jesus, who for a little while was made lower than the angels, now crowned with glory and honor because of the suffering of death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone.” Or again, “It was fitting that God, for whom and through whom all things exist, in bringing many children to glory, should make the pioneer of their salvation perfect through sufferings.” It’s clear that in the Christian narrative suffering is not only a prerequisite for avoiding death, but also a “fitting” means by which to be brought to glory. That is, to be saved seems to necessitate suffering. <br /><br />According to the Encyclopedia of Religion:<br /><br />The term soteriology means “doctrine of salvation” or, more concretely, the “way of salvation,” and derives from the Greek soteria, which in turn is built on soter, or “savior”…[and] is usually used to refer to the salvation of individuals.<br /><br />In the Christian narrative the ‘way of salvation’ for individuals is indeed built on a ‘savior,’ a personal savior offering reconciliation to the Father God through belief in the suffering Son. Jesus, in the Christian narrative, is the ‘way of salvation.’ In response to the question, “How can we know the way?” Jesus responds, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” Even so, ideas of salvation don’t exclusively belong to the Christian narrative.<br /><br />There are a multitude of religious narratives in the world, hence there are numerous stories regarding the ‘way of salvation.’ Religious narratives play a critical role in the creation of identity and community for those who believe in them. The narratives people believe impact the way they interact with the world. As Anis Bawarshi, in his work on genre theory has noted “‘lived textualities’ interact with and transform ‘lived experiences.’” Put another way, narratives matter, in fact, they shape our world and experience of it. Thus when an influential narrative like Christianity teaches that salvation comes through suffering, humanity’s relationship to suffering is negatively impacted.<br /><br />Many people would take issue with my claim that salvation comes through suffering in the Christian narrative. They would argue that the focus of Christian salvation is the empty tomb, the resurrection—not death. And they would be right. However, it’s impossible to have an empty tomb without first having a crucifixion. In order for Jesus to rise, he first had to die. Consequently, the Christian narrative accepts suffering as necessary. It has to, for the only way to acknowledge the resurrection, is to first acknowledge the death, in this case the torturous violent death, of Jesus. So while Christianity may focus on resurrection, it cannot escape the role suffering plays in its ‘way of salvation.’ <br /><br />In the town I live in, I see church reader boards with messages such as, “God can use your suffering for His good.” and “Jesus died for your sins.” I concede that I also see signs celebrating the resurrection; however, these are usually limited to Easter Sunday. One would be hard-pressed to find a church reader board claiming “Jesus resurrected for your sins.” The common understanding of Christian salvation does not exclude suffering. These reader board messages—designed to help people find salvation through Jesus—teach of the goodness, or at least, the usefulness of suffering (God used the suffering of his son to bring about salvation for the world). I find this belief to be dangerous however, and think it causes damage in our world by distorting views of real human suffering. In his essay, “There is No God” for the popular series This I Believe, Penn Jillette (of Penn and Teller) writes:<br /><br />Believing there is no God means the suffering I’ve seen in my family, and indeed all the suffering in the world, isn’t caused by an omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent force that isn’t bothered to help or is just testing us, but rather something we all may be able to help others with in the future. No God means the possibility of less suffering in the future.<br /><br />Looking at Jillette’s last sentence from the other direction, I can say that as long as redemption is understood to come through suffering, suffering will always be understood as acceptable, necessary and even justified.<br /> <br />One of the most well known verses in Christian scripture is John 3:16, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” This verse is displayed on reader boards in sports stadiums, handed out in pamphlets on the street, and has been memorized by countless children. The familiarity of the verse has seemingly blinded people from its horror. It is offered as a verse of hope, of the generosity of God, and of the saving power of Jesus. But as I have worked to de-familiarize myself with it and read with fresh eyes what the words actually say, I have come to understand the injustice, abuse, and demand inherent in it’s words. Since I’m familiar with the rest of the Christian narrative, I know that God is giving his only son over to be tortured and killed. According to John 3:16, the reason God is doing this is because he so loves the world that he wants to save his believers from perishing, and apparently, belief in this divine act of child abuse offers eternal life. I am left struggling with deep questions regarding the nature of God in relation to this narrative. Why does God need his only child to die (I’ll leave the question of how God has an only child for a paper on the doctrine of the trinity) in order to offer salvation to his believers? Why is suffering and death necessary for redemption?<br /> <br />Anselm’s satisfaction theory of atonement works to answer these questions. The satisfaction theory claims that through the sinfulness of humanity, God has been dishonored. Therefore, humanity must give satisfaction or be punished. According to this theory:<br /><br />While humanity must provide this satisfaction, only God can provide it…For this reason God has become human in Christ. In his perfect obedience unto death, satisfaction is rendered, justice is done, God’s honor is restored, and sinners are forgiven. <br /><br />In other words, blood and violence are prerequisites for salvation. Justice (punishment) must be done in order for God to offer forgiveness. In Faith Seeking Understanding, Daniel Migliore highlights the fact that Anselm comes from “the medieval thought world and presuppose[s] then-current understandings of law, offense, reparations, and social obligations.” Migliore follows the tradition through John Calvin, who “wavered on the question whether the motive of the atonement was the need to satisfy God’s righteous anger or whether God was moved by pure and freely given love for the world.” He then moves on to Karl Barth who went “beyond both Anselm and Calvin by consistently interpreting the atoning work of Christ as motivated solely by the holy love of God.” I would argue, however, that the Christian narrative has not moved beyond Anselm’s “medieval thought world.” As I look at the rampant use of the death penalty in America, (between 1930-2007 thousands of people have received the death penalty ) I find that contemporary views of ‘law, offense, reparations, and social obligations’ aren’t that different from the thinking of Anselm. And as the common church reader board messages of Jesus dying for us indicate, soteriologies based on satisfactionist theories of atonement are still very real in Christian churches.<br /><br />The death of Jesus is clearly presented as being for us in scripture. I’m not attempting to argue that it isn’t. Rather, I’m trying to point out the dangerous ways in which this narrative is working in our world. Migliore highlights the fact that many believers have skillfully disguised the violence of Jesus’ death. In other words, they can hide it and ignore it. They can “become accustomed to gilded and bejeweled crosses.” When we are so desensitized to the violence of Jesus’ death that we are celebrating a killing machine by wearing it around our necks, our relationship to violence is severely damaged. How effective can a narrative that offers salvation through suffering, violence and death, actually be at challenging violence and suffering? Migliore makes the claim that:<br /><br />The crucified Christ embodies the love of God in our violent world, conquering the hatred that inspires violence and the spirit of revenge that prompts counter-violence. In the teaching, ministry, and crucifixion of Christ, God exposes the lie of the inevitability of the circle of violence and counter-violence. God refuses to oppose evil with evil. The cross is God’s free and costly gift of love whose goal is the transformation of the world.<br /><br />While I find this to be one of the most convincing arguments I’ve encountered regarding the necessity of the violent cross, I still disagree with it. According to the Christian narrative, God didn’t ‘refuse to oppose evil with evil,’ he opposed sin by sending his only son to die. Divine child abuse does not fall outside the bounds of evil. And how can the cross be simultaneously ‘free and costly?’ It can’t. The cross cost Jesus his life. There was nothing free about it.<br /> <br />Another theory of atonement working to answer why Jesus’ death was necessary for humanity’s salvation is the Christ as Victor theory. In Faith Seeking Understanding, this theory is described as:<br /><br />[A] dramatic struggle between God and the forces of evil in the world…Under the veil of his humanity, Christ triumphs over the demons, the devil, and all the principalities and powers that hold human beings captive. By his cross and resurrection, Christ decisively defeats these powers and thus frees their captives. <br /><br />While Migliore has problems with this theory, he still finds important truth in it. The theory is further explored in Journeys by Heart by Rita Nakashima Brock:<br /><br />[Jesus’] death is seen as a death for others, a cosmic event in which the death of God in Christ becomes the death of death…His resurrection is interpreted as the sign of divine triumphal powers that vindicate Jesus as the true messiah...The passion narratives have been interpreted as the story of a heroic savior who faced his enemies alone and unaided. Jesus’ death becomes the battle of unilateral powers. In returning Jesus to life, divine unilateral action conquers the power of sin and death. <br /> <br />Both Brock and I struggle with this theory. One of the most obvious problems is the fact that the emphasis of the Christ as Victor theory lies in other worldly battles. When the battle between good and evil is over-spiritualized, it fails to connect to the actual battles of good and evil happening on the planet earth. How can powerful and oppressive structures be fought in this world when our narrative tells us that the battle has already been won? According to Brock, the Christ as Victor theory teaches that “only a transcendent and powerful deity can save us, for all human power has failed.” In other words, the powerful and oppressive structures of our world cannot be fought, at least not with human power. But in the Christian narrative of salvation, we are told not to worry about our failure to fight oppression and suffering because the resurrection has already defeated them. Herein lies my problem with Christian views of soteriology that hold the violent death of Jesus as necessary and victorious. In Brock’s words: “To make claims that any person’s tragic, painful death is divinely willed or necessary for others to be saved mutes our ability to be angry about unnecessary suffering.” If we live with the assumption that we are saved, that evil has already been defeated, and that salvation can be offered to all of humanity by offering them belief in Jesus’ death and resurrection, how are we to fight the hidden and explicit injustice that exists in our world? We can’t; but the bigger problem is that we often don’t even think we need to.<br /> <br />I realize that many believers, because of their faith in the Christian narrative, have spent their lives working to end suffering, violence, oppression, and injustice. I celebrate their work and no way mean to deny or demean it. However, I argue that because traditional views of soteriology—such as the theories of substitution and Christ as Victor—are so prevalent in the systems and beliefs of the Christian narrative, they are also prevalent in the systems and beliefs of the entire western world. Hence, I live in a society where suffering and violence are viewed as acceptable—sometimes necessary and justified—and always inevitable.<br /><br />Brock has put forth a feminist view of Christology that de-centers Jesus from the doctrine of salvation. She says “We must find the revelatory and saving events of Christianity in a larger reality than Jesus.” By challenging the narrative’s longstanding focal point, namely that the death of one individual leads to salvation, she aims to rewrite the Christian narrative in a way that prevents suffering from prevailing. In my view, her work suppresses any cause to celebrate suffering. For she proposes that the locus of the redemptive act is not the individual death of Jesus, but is rather found in what she calls the Christa/Community, which takes a relational view of Christ. For Brock:<br /><br />The power that gives and sustains life does not flow from a dead and resurrected savior to his followers. Rather, the community sustains life-giving power by its memory of its own brokenheartedness and of those who have suffered and gone before and by its members being courageously and redemptively present to all. <br /><br />In the Christa/Community Jesus participates in the life-giving power, just as the rest of us do. He is not the life-giving power. The Christa/Community calls each one of us “to risk a commitment, as a caring community, to the promise of…a domination-free community.” In other words, salvation is everyone’s responsibility. In her epilogue, she says:<br />No one heroic or divine deed will defeat oppressive powers and death-delivering systems. We cannot rely on one past event to save our future. No almighty power will deliver us from evil. With each minute we wait for such rescue, more die.<br /><br />I read this as a powerful call away from dependency on a Father God who offers salvation through his suffering Son.<br /><br />As Brock argues that we must de-center Jesus from the doctrines of salvation, I argue that we must go even farther. We must de-center the Christian narrative itself from ideas of human salvation. We must shock ourselves out of the normality of the Christian narrative and closely re-examine what it is we claim to believe. The feminist theologian Mary Daly has called soteriologies that proclaim as salvific the death of Jesus, necrophilic. This statement would shock (and no doubt insult) most Christians, but it is exactly the kind of statement that will call for a re-examination of the Christian obsession with death as the bearer of salvation, and consequently, its celebration of suffering. <br /><br />In order for the idea of salvation to really matter in our everyday, very human, decisions and actions, we must pull it down from the skies of transcendent reality and place it squarely in the material world. We must take full responsibility for it. Only then will salvation be possible for ourselves and our world. Every time the human spirit of love, generosity and kindness stands up against violence and oppression, humanity is brought one step closer to understanding the meaning of salvation for our lives. Assuming that salvation and the defeat of evil have already been accomplished, the Christian narrative excuses people from very real work that needs to be done. It allows for the acceptance of suffering. If we are to be saved, we have to work out our salvation together, right here in the physical world. <br /><br /> <br />{my footnote numbers didn't copy, if you want to see them let me know and I'll send you the Word Doc. sources are below...}<br /><br />Barr, David. New Testament Story, 3rd ed. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth, 2001. p. 472<br /> Ibid, p. 471.<br /> Ibid, p. 473.<br /> Hebrews 2:9<br /> Hebrews 2:10<br /> Smart, Ninian. "Soteriology" Encyclopedia of Religion. Ed. Lindsay Jones. Vol. 12. 2nd ed. Detroit: Macmillan Reference USA, 2005. 8526-8530. 15 vols. p. 8526<br /> John 14:5b-6<br /> Devitt, Amy J., Anis Bawarshi, and Mary Jo Reiff. “Materiality and Genre in the Study<br />of Discourse Communities.” College English 65.5 (May, 2003): 541-558. p.549<br /> Church reader board messages in Richmond, IN<br /> Jillette, Penn. “There is No God.” The Portable Atheist. Ed. Christopher Hitchens. USA: De Capo Press, 2007. 349-350. p. 350 <br /> Migliore, Daniel L. Faith Seeking Understanding: An Introduction to Christian Theology. 2nd ed. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 2004. p. 184<br /> Ibid, p. 184<br /> Ibid, p. 184<br /> Ibid, p. 184<br /> http://www.ojp.usdoj.gov/bjs/glance/tables/exetab.htm<br /> Migliore, p.188<br /> Ibid, p. 190<br /> Ibid, p. 182-3<br /> Brock, Rita Nakashima. Journeys by Heart: A Christology of Erotic Power. New York: Crossroad, 1988. p. 90-1<br /> Ibid, p. 91<br /> Ibid, p. 94<br /> Ibid, p. 68<br /> Ibid, p. 105<br /> Ibid, p. 96<br /> Ibid, p. 105<br /> Ibid, p. 90Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-6403649955658849252008-04-29T07:14:00.000-07:002008-06-12T07:24:48.177-07:00Remembering Lazarus’ Sisters{This is a hermeneutical essay about Lazarus and social location I wrote for NT class}<br /><br />I approach the bible as a white, educated, middle class, American woman. While these basic descriptions tell you where I fall on the race, class, gender continuum, they cannot fully explain the reasons I think and believe the things I do. In order to understand the way that I interpret the bible, you have to understand a bit about my journey with religion. Without recounting my entire spiritual autobiography, let me offer a few important details. Raised without religion I found Christianity as a young adult and for almost a decade I tried on several religious hats: new believer, fundamentalist Christian, liberal Christian, Quaker Christian, agnostic Quaker, and finally, non-believer. I in no way mean to trivialize my religious experiences by listing them in this flippant manner. Rather, I mean to show that I have personally read and interpreted the bible from many perspectives. I know what it feels like to approach the bible as the inerrant and holy words of God. And I am learning to deal with what it means to approach the bible as a non-believing seminary student who very much appreciates the power of the bible—albeit power given by the belief and actions of human beings.<br /><br />As I sit with the passages that make up the eleventh chapter of the Gospel of John—the story of Lazarus being raised from the dead—I find a fantastic story of friendship, love, mourning, belief, disbelief and power over death. There can’t be a greater power than power over death. Death is terrifying, and while I don’t know for sure, I have a hunch that death scares most people—regardless of their social location. Hence, it makes sense why a story of someone being raised from the dead is appealing. Resurrection from the dead is, of course, a crucial component in the Christian narrative and the story of Lazarus doesn’t shy away from this fact. Jesus has the power to take away death.<br /><br />That is exactly what the Australian Catholic priest Francis J. Moloney finds so powerful in this text. Moloney has an extensive resume, sometimes listed with seven sets of initials after his name. He is currently living in Australia and is the Provincial Superior for his order, the Salesians of Don Bosco. He has studied at pontifical universities in Rome and Oxford University in England. He has taught at colleges in Australia and America. While it would take too long to list all of his accomplishments in the Catholic world, suffice it to say, he is a well-known and well-respected theologian in western Christianity.<br /><br />In 2003, Moloney wrote an essay called Can Everyone be Wrong? A Reading of John 11:1-12:8. The thrust of this essay, as the title indicates, is that everyone gets the story of Lazaus wrong. Moloney claims that each character inside the story and the majority of interpreters outside the story fail to understand Jesus’ goal and the meaning of his message. According to Moloney v. 4 is a crucial text, for this is where “Jesus sets the theological and christological agenda for the events that follow” (510). The end of v. 4 reads, “This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it” (John 11:4b). Moloney argues that Jesus wanted Lazarus to die; therefore, he waited to go to him. This decision seems odd when judged by human standards, especially in light of Jesus’ love for Lazarus and his sisters as portrayed in v. 5. Moloney’s point, however, is that the Jesus’ decision to wait shouldn’t be judged by human standards. It reflects the larger agenda for the Lazarus story, namely God’s design (511). He writes:<br /><br />The focus of the reader’s attention must not be upon the fact of death, but upon the revelation of the glory of God and the beginnings of a process that will lead to the glorification of Jesus, the Son of God. (510)<br /><br />This is precisely where, according to Moloney, the characters in the story, Mary, Martha and ‘the Jews’, get it wrong. They are unable to transcend their human grief over the death of Lazarus and come to an understanding that it is all for the glory of God.<br /> <br />Moloney is particularly critical of Martha. He says we must not be distracted by her confession of faith in v. 27, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world” (John 11:27). Moloney asks us to remember the question to which she offered this answer. In vv. 25-6, Jesus asked whether she believed that he was the resurrection and the life. According to Moloney, “she affirms her long-held view that Jesus fulfills her messianic expectations,” but does not answer the direct question (514). Moloney highlights two other confessions of faith by Martha. Besides resting on messianic expectation in v. 27, he says that she also thinks of Jesus as a God-directed miracle worker in vv. 21-2 and confesses to believing in the resurrection at the end of times in v. 24 (515). He contends that she misses the point each time because she fails to “acknowledge Jesus’ self-revelation in vv. 25-6 as the resurrection and the life” (514).<br /> <br />Turning to Mary and the Jews, Moloney focuses on the verses that involve weeping. He puts forth the idea that until Mary joins the Jews in weeping she is actually on the right track. He claims that v. 32, in which Mary kneels at the feet of Jesus and simply tells him that if he had been there, her brother would not have died, “transcends Martha’s aggressive understanding of Jesus as a miracle worker and Messiah (vv. 21-2)” (517). But by joining in the mournful weeping, Mary fails to see the larger picture. She fails to see that Lazarus’ illness and death are “for the glory of God and the means by which the Son of God will be glorified” (517). A careful reader would, of course, notice that Jesus himself weeps in this narrative (v. 35). Moloney responds to this with a careful study of the original Greek. He compares the words used to describe the weeping Jews and Mary and the words used to describe Jesus. He contends that Mary and the other Jews are wailing, they are mourning the loss of Lazarus. Jesus, on the other hand, is not wailing. According to Moloney:<br /><br />Jesus is angered and deeply disturbed emotionally—even to the point of tears—by the universal lack of faith. His profound annoyance and emotional disturbance lead him to tears, but the verb used to speak of Jesus’ weeping singles him out from others who mourn the loss of Lazarus. (519)<br /><br />As noted above, Moloney holds v. 4, “This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it” as the crucial theological and Christological point of this narrative; therefore, Jesus weeping over his friends death makes no sense to him. Rather, “Jesus, the resurrection and the life, is angered, deeply moved, and he weeps, as all his attempts to lead his disciples, Martha and Mary into a true understanding of life and death meet failure” (519). <br /><br />It is not Moloney’s intention in this essay simply to lambaste the characters in the Lazarus narrative. He is being faithful to his own understanding of what the author of John is trying to do—invite his readers into a deeper understanding and faith. The last lines of Moloney’s essay get at the heart of his personal interpretation of the raising of Lazarus:<br /><br />The emotional mood of the death-shadowed world—in which both life and love are precarious—is shocked into another level of reality. Another purpose is at work. It owes nothing to death nor social expectations flowing from our mortality. “This illness is not unto death; it is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified by means of it” (11:4). (527)<br /><br />Moloney believes that the author of John is inviting his readers to join Mary and Martha on their journey: “The narrative is designed to lead the reader away from mourning and weeping toward faith in Jesus as the resurrection and the life” (517).<br /> <br />I find Moloney’s interpretation of the Lazarus story fascinating, but deeply saddening. It seems he wants all humanity removed from the story, yet from my perspective, it’s the humanity that makes the story great. Someone has died and the people—including Jesus—are weeping. Human beings live in the death-shadowed world Moloney describes, in which both life and love are precarious (527). Over and over again in this essay, Moloney is asking me to transcend my human reaction to death so that I can understand that Jesus has power over death. I do see that Jesus has power over death. But as I read the story, I see it in the very material action of Jesus calling Lazarus from the tomb in v. 43, not in his esoteric claim in v. 25 to be the resurrection and the life. According to Moloney, I, along with the rest of the story’s characters, fail to understand the true message.<br /> <br />I also find Moloney’s continual focus on Jesus wanting Lazarus to die so that God might be glorified to be unhelpful. However, given his background, I don’t find it surprising. I see this theology echoed on church billboards with slogans such as, “God can use your suffering for his glory.” In the modern world I live in, suffering abounds and I find this theology of suffering to be dangerous. I do not believe that suffering glorifies God or that God wants it to happen so that God can be glorified.<br /> <br />Oo Chung Lee, a theologian from Korea, provides a different perspective on the theology of suffering. Through her work to help re-establish relations between members of North and South Korean families separated for fifty years and her work with Asian “comfort women” of WWII, Lee understands the suffering of humanity in very particular ways. As the vice-moderator of the Commission on World Mission and Evangelism, Lee presented a bible study at the 1985 Commission meeting in Limuru, Kenya entitled, One Woman’s Confession of Faith. In it, she compares the story of the woman anointing Jesus present in all four gospels. In the gospel of John, this story falls directly after the story of Lazarus and the woman anointing Jesus is Mary, Lazarus’ sister.<br /> <br />The story of Mary anointing Jesus seems connected to the raising of Lazarus for the author of John. He introduces Mary in v. 11:2 as the one who anointed the Lord and then he wraps up the story of Lazarus with the actual telling of Mary’s anointing in v. 12:3. Moloney argues “Mary’s extravagant preparation of Jesus’ body for burial indicates that she has overcome the menacing realm of human mortality” (526-7). In other words, she no longer has to deal with that annoying human grief. But in Lee’s study, it is precisely this human grief that brings Jesus and Mary together. Lee discusses the oppression of women in Jesus’ time in both religious traditions and culture. She talks about how much women must have loved Jesus because of the way he related to them as equals (216). Lee says, “Jesus and the women knew that only where they shared pain, fear, oppression and discrimination would there be salvation and resurrection” (216). According to Lee then, Mary anointed Jesus with oil, not because she had transcended her humanness, but because she felt it so much in relationship with Jesus.<br /> <br />Using Lee’s work, I return to my previous disagreement with Moloney over Jesus’ tears. As in Lee’s quote above, resurrection comes from shared pain. I would re-word this into restoration and transformation coming from sharing grief, from mourning together. I am deeply moved by the text’s account of those mourning the loss of Lazarus together, a mourning that causes Jesus to weep. Like these mourners, I’ve experienced mourning the pain and grief of death with other loved ones, and I understand the desire to bring someone back from death.<br /> <br />Martha understands my perspective, for she desperately wants her brother back. In vv. 11:21-27 Martha and Jesus have an extended conversation and as I noted earlier, Moloney criticizes Martha for expecting Jesus to be a miracle worker and missing the larger picture of his message. But Japanese theologian, Satoko Yamaguchi, argues, “Martha’s words…contain two elements of the traditional Jewish lament, namely the address and the complaint” (331). Martha sent a message to Jesus that her brother was sick and he didn’t come until it was too late. Still hopeful even though he’s delayed, she tells Jesus in v. 11:22 that “even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” For Yamaguchi—who was the co-director of the Center for Feminist Theology and Ministry in Japan at the time she published the essay Christianity and Women in Japan in the Japanese Journal of Religious Studies in 2003—Martha is an important character.<br /> <br />Unlike Moloney, Yamaguchi does not think that Martha has missed the true message; in fact she asserts that Martha is right on. She compares the words of Martha’s confession in v. 27a to what the author of John says he wants his readers to believe in v. 20:31a:<br /><br />But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God. (John 20:31a)<br /><br />She said to him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God. (John 11:27a)<br /><br />Yamaguchi says that:<br /><br />Martha thus takes on the role of the spokesperson who testifies to the faith of the Johannine communities. Here we see that in this Gospel Martha is assigned the representative leadership role that is assigned to Peter in all the other canonical Gospels (Mt 16:16, Mk 8:29, Lk 9:20). (331-2)<br /><br />In other words, Martha does not misunderstand at all; rather, she is the author’s example of what it means to have faith in the “Son of God.” In her essay, Lee highlights the fact that Martha’s confession, though almost identical to that of Peter’s, is rarely given any attention (and in the case of Moloney, is even seen as invalid). Yamaguchi writes of the need to re-member Martha’s story. She uses the term re-member in order to convey Mary Rose D’Angelo’s “idea of bringing what has been hidden out of the shadows of history, of putting together what has been dismembered and of making someone a member of oneself/of the community in a new way” (329). From a feminist perspective, then, Yamaguchi offers a chiastic diagram of the Lazarus story in John 11:1-12:11:<br /><br />A. Lazarus under death threat—deepened in A’<br /> B. Martha’s faith confession—echoing contrast with B’<br /> C. Jesus’ sharing in tears with Judean neighbors—opposing contrast with C’<br /> D. Jesus’ life-giving sign in the raising of Lazarus—center of the<br /> structure and story, foreshadowing Jesus’ resurrection.<br /> C’. Judean authorities’ plot to kill Jesus—multiply foreshadowed plot<br /> B’. Mary’s anointing service—foreshadowing Jesus’ foot-washing.<br />A’. Lazarus and Jesus under death threats. (330)<br /><br />Martha and Mary’s roles in this story are unusual in biblical narratives. Women are not often named and given important roles in important stories. But here, the author of John names two women and uses them in the central story of his gospel.<br /><br />In this story, Martha and Mary are allowed to use their voices. They are identified as disciples of Jesus. Yamaguchi offers a study of the Greek word diakonia. It is only used twice in the Gospel of John, once for Martha’s activity in v. 12:2 and once in Jesus’ discourse on true discipleship in v. 12:26 (332). According to Yamaguchi, this “very limited use of the word implies that the word is used as an important theological term, meaning a ministerial service” (331).<br /> <br />Martha and Mary are the only named individuals given voice in the story of Lazarus and they use their voices and actions to offer deep confessions of faith. Martha in v. 27 and Mary in v. 12:3. As Yamaguchi highlighted in her chiastic diagram, these confessions of faith illuminate the message in an echoing contrast within the entire narrative (330-1).<br /> <br />For Yamaguchi, to re-member the story of Martha and Mary in the story of their brother Lazarus:<br /><br />is to seek justice both for ancient and contemporary women in ministry. Our struggle to stop all kinds of discrimination against ‘women ministers’ in our church and to build up better conditions for women ministers to work to their full potential is something for which we can claim a firm grounding in the spirituality and praxis in our Christian origins. (335)<br /><br />As a feminist theologian, Yamaguchi finds comfort for herself and her community, women ministers in Japan, in the story of Martha and Mary in the Gospel of John. Lee, someone who has worked directly with human grief, finds solidarity and relationship as she reads the story of Mary anointing Jesus. And Francis Moloney, a catholic priest, educated in Rome, heard the call of Jesus, calling believers to transcend human grief and to understand that he is the resurrection and the life.<br /> <br />I consider all three of these theologians to be faithful to their life experience and their personal understanding of the story of Lazarus in the Gospel of John. I find it fascinating how three faithful people, reading the same text, can come up with such different points of focus. From my perspective—the doubting seminarian—I am enriched by what all three have to say. I’m convinced that if I were to read three more accounts, I would find even more diversity. And rather than finding this diversity confusing, I find it highly valuable. Different voices help to maintain balance. They help us, as readers of the bible, to avoid dangerous dogmatism.<br /> <br />When I first sat down with the story of Lazarus, I found a fantastic story. I still find the story fantastic, but I have a far richer understanding of it. I now feel a personal connection to characters I was surprised to see at the center of a story about a man being raised from the dead. I entered this study with the expectation of reading about Lazarus, but he remains oddly silent; it’s Martha and Mary that I’m walking away knowing better. And I am pleased to find such strong women, who were obviously very close to Jesus.<br /> <br />I began looking at this story in awe of v. 11:43, “Lazarus, come out!” But I leave it curious and slightly disturbed by v. 11:6, “after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.” Although I’m frustrated with Moloney’s focus—that Lazarus’ death and the consequent suffering happened in order to glorify God—I admit that his argument can be found in the text. Jesus did wait to go to Lazarus’ family and he does say that Lazarus’ illness is for God’s glory. I’m not arguing that this notion isn’t in there, it clearly is. But I don’t believe focusing on this particular element in the story is at all helpful. Teaching people to believe suffering is for the glorification of God, as Moloney would have it, is dangerous. It teaches people that suffering is what God wants and even blesses, leading to a theology that cannot only ignore, but also excuse the horrifying calamities that exist in our world, and it forces individuals to hide from their own personal suffering. Moloney is right, Martha and Mary are unable to transcend their grief, their human reaction to death. And in my view, they shouldn’t. Focusing on the women in this story, along with the other Jewish mourners and even Jesus’ tears, teaches us a very different lesson: humans suffer and death is a tragedy. But when we are able to acknowledge it and support each other through it, real transformation (resurrection) at least has a chance to occur.<br /><br />Works Cited:<br />Holy Bible: New Revised Standard Version. New York: Oxford University Press, 1989.<br />Lee, Oo Chung. “One Woman’s Confession of Faith.” International Review of Mission<br />74.294 (1985): 212-216.<br />Moloney, Francis J. “Can Everyone be Wrong? A Reading of John 11:1-12:8.” New Testament<br />Studies 49.4 (2003): 505-527.<br />Yamaguchi, Satoko. “Christianity and Women in Japan.” Japanese Journal of Religious<br />Studies 30.3-4 (2003): 315-338.Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2735717206698445495.post-84910384500658856012008-03-29T14:53:00.000-07:002008-06-12T07:24:11.345-07:00After Easter<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I'm home now, which in my case means Richmond, Indiana. But, I was just </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">back</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> home in Seattle and I miss it. I miss the green, the mountains, the water, the city, the market (especially the red bean sesame balls we discovered this year) and the people. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Sometimes I wonder why I don't just move back. If I miss everything so much, why do I stay away? Some days, I want nothing more than to own a home in the Capitol Hill neighborhood of Seattle or Peaceful Valley in Spokane and to live there forever, building a network of deep and familiar places and relationships. But, on other days, all I want is to travel from place to place forever, meeting new people, seeing new places, and discovering more about this crazy world I belong to. These are very different ways of living and I see goodness in both options--I wish I could do both. But I seem to follow the path of the second, I seem to stay away. Not for the sake of staying away, but rather, because something keeps me away. There is something in me that isn't ready to move home. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">And while I'm pretty sure I'm not ready to move home, I'm simultaneously not sure why I live in Indiana...or why I'm a seminary student. This move was carefully planned (most things I do are) and yet, I question it almost daily. Over Easter dinner </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(one of my favorite meals of the year)</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> one of my good friends talked about a group he's part of called, "Living the Questions." I have been thinking about this title ever since. I am very good at questioning, but not so good at living </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">without</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> answers.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I would love to have the answers about religion, more specifically, the answers as to what I believe about religion. But just as I can't decide whether I want to settle down in one city, I can't decide whether I'm religious. I suppose that's why people invented the idea of agnosticism--for those of us that honestly don't know. I don't believe in a personal God. And I don't think the universe owes me an explanation for my existence. But I do believe that when humans believe in something and act on it, they give that something power. Example: while I don't believe the bible is inherently powerful or was inspired by a personal, creator God, I do believe that it contains human ideas about a personal, creator God, and therefore, every time someone acts a certain way because of the bible, their action or energy gives the bible and the idea of a personal God power. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">So where does that leave me? I'm not exactly sure...I'm trying to live with the question. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Since human beings wrote the bible it makes sense that it is a direct reflection of humanity. It contains the best and worst that humanity is and can be. As I look around, I see people doing wonderful and horrible things because of their belief in God. My years as a believer made me a better person, I'm sure of that. But, I can't ignore the awful things I did as a believer either. On a bigger scale, I see the Christian Peacemaker Teams and the Moral Majority both claiming religion as the reason for their actions. And I'm left in a liminal place. Is religion good or bad, useful or not? Of course, nothing is this simple. Especially religion. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">There are a few things I do know for sure. Religion isn't going anywhere, we can't escape it and we will never know what the world would have been like without it. And we can't deny that the world is impacted and shaped by religion--religious ideas and people--everyday. Therefore, we have to deal with it. And as I </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">am</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> a firm believer in education, my way of dealing with it is to study it. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Of course, I would be hiding something if I painted myself as a purely atheist academic. There </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">is</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> something personal that draws me towards religion. I love tradition and ceremony. I love to mark occasions and seasons. I am incredibly drawn to certain aspects of religious belief--ideas of transformation, new life, goodness, beauty, love. There is something marvelous about sitting in a Quaker Meeting for Worship. Participating in silent, expectant waiting with other questioning souls. Waiting to hear from the divine. Waiting for the impossible--together.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">So here I am, at home for now in Indiana. Waiting for the impossible and studying the biggest mysteries of life with the peculiar people called Quakers. Missing the familiar people called Washingtonians. And simply trying to be. Trying to live without answers. </span></div><div><br /></div>Summerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16430727264808835360noreply@blogger.com3