Sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Advent, Year B, December 18, 2011
Delivered at St. Paul Lutheran Church, Oakland, California (my internship site)
Shortly after I was baptized, my pastor told me that he thought I should go to seminary. I was pretty confused. I thought I didn’t need to go to seminary, I was just fine the way that I was. And I wrestled for a good long time with what my pastor told me. I actually gave him a few choice words after he said that, words that I won’t repeat for you here. But I was confused. I was upset, and I was definitely wondering where in the world did my pastor get that idea? I wondered, “How can this be?”
That’s one of the fascinating things about call stories in the Bible. There are numerous accounts of people who struggle with being tapped by God as favored, as chosen, who wonder aloud, “How can this be?” There’s an internal struggle, the self doubt, the lamenting of “Why me? Couldn’t God have picked anyone else, because this is a really big deal… Anyone who could be more qualified, more skilled, more adept, yet God picked… me?” Then there’s processing, discerning, and sometimes, acceptance.
Which leads me to today’s Gospel lesson. The Annunciation, otherwise known as part of Mary’s call story. God’s messenger, the angel Gabriel, came to Mary and gave her some interesting news. One of the reasons why I wanted to share the conversation between my pastor and me was because in reading today’s Gospel, I couldn’t help but wonder what was going through Mary’s head when Gabriel came to her. What were the thoughts running through her head when Gabriel told her that she was so highly favored as to bear the Son of God?
Perhaps it would be helpful to have some background information on Mary… We know her as the mother of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, but Mary was also an ordinary girl. A very human girl. She was probably a teenager, around 12 or 13 years old. Mary was from the equivalent of middle-of-nowhere Hicksville. Before Jesus’ birth and tourist buses, Nazareth was not a happening place; it was looked down upon as a lowly little village. To heighten more of Mary’s ordinary life, her family was probably poor and part of the peasant class… These characteristics make Mary an insignificant and unremarkable girl. She was just a plain ol’ poor girl from the backwaters of Nazareth.
In the Gospel, we’re clued into Mary having a very human reaction to Gabriel’s visit and message. Mary, who in her brief depictions in the Bible is shown as a great person of faith, also struggled with this announcement, with this call. She was perplexed and pondered Gabriel’s words. But these words, perplexed and pondered, may be too “delicate” for the situation. Instead of perplexed, how about the word disturbed? Or even agitated? She may not have verbalized them, but she may have had some choice words for Gabriel… wondering, why me? To quote Mary, “How can this be?”
Mary was also probably a good Jewish girl, knowing her Hebrew Bible. This meant Mary believed in the arrival of a Messiah. But can you imagine her surprise when the angel Gabriel told her that not only will she give birth to a child, but the child she will carry “will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. [Her son] will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” No pressure, right? Yet this insignificant teenaged girl from an insignificant town and from an insignificant family… is visited by Gabriel, the messenger of God, being told that she has an amazing call and that God has found favor with her? How can this be? Why a poor peasant girl from the middle of nowhere?
Well, why not?
The minute we think we know how God will act in the world, God will to something radically different, something counter-cultural, something world changing. God promised in 2 Samuel that God would establish a dynasty for the house of David and that David’s kingdom would be forever. Yet the people of Israel had a tumultuous, difficult history in the time between God’s promise to David and Gabriel’s visit to Mary. This long-expected Messiah would lead them out of the constant oppression the Jewish people endured for hundreds of years. And God keeps God’s promises… yet those promises are kept in unexpected and surprising ways. Can you imagine Mary’s surprise and shock when she’s told that she will give birth to the Messiah? And that the Messiah is not some great, strong, powerful military leader, but that the Messiah comes to us as a weak newborn, born in a filthy animal-filled stable? That God looks upon Mary with favor in the tangible and very alive life of a newborn baby?
God looks upon us with favor too, and in a very tangible way. What does it mean to have God look upon us with favor? In the waters of baptism, God looks upon us with favor. In the waters of baptism, we are born to a new life in Christ; a baptism service is filled with language of light, of new life, and of rebirth; all that we hope for in a post-Advent life. Baptismal services are filled with this hope with words such as:
“God, who is rich in mercy and love, gives us a new birth into a living hope.”
And words such as…
“By water and the Holy Spirit we are reborn children of God.”
And words such as…
“Let your light so shine before others that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.”
These words lead us to the light of new birth. We could say it is a time in our lives that’s pregnant with possibilities when we’re set aside to be carriers of new life. The old sinful self falls away to a new life. And in this new life of being with Christ, we are set aside to be ministers, set aside to be favored by God. Our ministries may differ from person to person. It doesn’t have to be ordained or lay ministry. It is more how we are the light of Christ in the world to one another. Regardless, we are called into ministry; we are called into new birth in the waters of baptism. And God looks upon us with favor.
But then what? What does it mean for you to have God look at you with favor and be active in your life? How do you live your call in this world waiting for Christ to return? In this world that’s filled with brokenness, how do each and every one of us live out our call that God places on our hearts, especially at times that are particularly difficult? On days when we’re standing in the line at the DMV? On days when we step over a panhandler in order to get into the grocery store? On days when we’re feeling rushed to get everything done? On days where we’re not feeling favored? While we may not be told we’re going to give birth to the Son of God, how then in our call as ministers do we still be the presence of Christ in difficult moments? Moments when we’re angry, upset, and want to turn our backs and walk away from our call? How are we the presence of Christ, the bearers of Christ, especially if we’re wrestling in moments when we ask, “Really God? Really? How can this be?”
I think we have expectations of how God acts in the world. But when God acts, we can ponder, be perplexed, be terrified, and be amazed. We can especially feel these emotions when God comes to us, telling us God has found favor with us. We can sometimes feel this flood of emotions when we hear the words, “The Lord hath need of thee…” (to quote Pastor Ross when he needs someone to do something...) God is so active, that God became human, born of Mary, to live out a human experience. Living out that human experience to know our joys, our fears, our hopes, our despair, our experiences as called bearers of Christ. Jesus, born of the poor, unwed, teenaged Mary, shows how the humble are lifted, the world is turned upside down, and God comes to meet us in the most human, the most tangible way, coming to share our experience with us at our lowest places. God comes to us in the tangible waters of birth, of new and hopeful life to state that God has found favor with us and sets us apart to be ministers. God surpasses our expectations time and time again.
God found favor with Mary. God finds favor with us. How… in our flesh… in new birth… in waiting for the birth of Christ… will we respond as a minister in this time of waiting, watching, and hoping?
I leave you with the words of Lynn Ungar and part her poem, “Incarnation.”
I confess that I am caught
by the story of Christmas,
by the pronouncement of the Spirit
upon Mary’s plain flesh.
What right did the angel
have to come to her
with the news of that
unprovided, unimaginable
birth? What right
had God to take on flesh
so out of season?
The flesh has so few choices,
the angels, perhaps, none.
The trees will shake themselves
and wait for spring.
The angels, unbodied, will clutch
the night with their singing.
And Mary, like so many,
troubled and available,
will hear the word:
The power of the Most High
will overshadow you
And in her flesh, respond.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Sermon for Second Sunday of Advent
Sermon for the Second Sunday of Advent, Year B, December 4, 2011
Delivered at St. Paul Lutheran Church, Oakland, California (my internship site)
My husband, Karl, and I were riding our bikes out in rural Ireland in 2004 for our honeymoon. We were going to undertake a pretty big trip by cycling up part of the western coast of Ireland. If you could have seen us on that first day; we were just giddy with excitement. We were going to start our lives together just being with each other, riding our bicycles in the idyllic Irish countryside. Never mind we’d only been married a week and a half, but marriage (and life, for that matter) is an adventure, right? Unfortunately, the first day of our bicycling adventure, after all the giddiness and excitement, did not go over so well. We both had a map that was highlighted for us by a local, but for some reason, the road we were on was not quite lining up with our map. We were supposed to turn onto another road, but the road that was on our map was nowhere to be seen. We were pedaling up and down this road, looking for this new road to materialize so we could get to our destination. But that road never showed itself.
We were lost. We were very, very lost.
We weren’t just lost anywhere. We were lost in an entirely different country, in the Irish countryside. Nothing but green fields, baa-ing sheep, and an occasional moo-ing cow. Sure, we could speak English, we had that much going for us, but that’s really not helpful when there’s not a whole lot of civilization around… we couldn’t just stop by a shop or someone’s house to ask for directions... We were in a place we had never visited before, so we didn’t have any familiar landmarks to help us get to where we were going. We didn’t know anyone. We didn’t have a cell phone with us. These were they days before affordable fancy GPS systems. All we had was a map. Karl and I were frustrated that we didn’t know where we were, and to top it all off, we were frustrated that we didn’t know quite where we were going. In our first week of marriage, this wasn’t exactly the best place to be, both physically and metaphorically. We were frustrated with our situation, but we tried really, really hard not to be frustrated with one another. We were out in the wilderness, alone and scared and wondering if we’d ever find our way out of the Irish countryside.
We did find our way back; otherwise Karl and I wouldn’t be in church today. But wandering out in the wilderness, being alone and scared, made me think of the prophet Isaiah’s words in this week’s lesson. This passage from Isaiah was written during a crazy time in Israel’s history. Israel had repeatedly turned away from their God; the prophets were trying to warn the people to turn from their selfish ways and turn back to God. The prophets stated that if the Israelites didn’t turn back to God, something bad was going to happen. That something bad was the Babylonians. The Babylonians not only conquered Jerusalem; they destroyed it. The Babylonians then carted the Israelites away from their home, marching them to Babylon. The Israelites were whisked away from a land that they loved and knew as home. The Israelites were in an awful wilderness in a foreign country being held against their will in a place they knew nothing about, in a land that wasn’t theirs. They turned away from God, and they found themselves out in the wilderness.
There’s something scary about being in the wilderness. There’s the physical wilderness, the middle of nowhere places that seem empty, desolate, and lacking life. Then there’s the theoretical wilderness in our spiritual, emotional, and psychological existence… times when we’re alone, destitute, feeling like we’ve royally screwed everything up and there’s nothing that can be done. The internal wilderness of despondency, isolation, and wondering, where, oh where, is God in the midst of all this mess? Have you been in a wilderness of doubt, of fear, or of anger wondering, “where in the heck is God in the midst of all this mess?”
God, it seems, is in the wilderness. But here’s another question: WHY is God out in the wilderness? The reading from Isaiah and the Gospel are filled with wilderness talk, and God is out in the midst of that middle-of-nowhere place.
Why the wilderness? I mean, even Judas questions the placement of proclamation in the wilderness in “Jesus Christ Superstar” when he asks Jesus, “Why'd you choose such a backwards time in such a strange land? If you'd come today you would've reached a whole nation! Israel in 4 B.C. had no mass communication…”
In the midst of being in an unknown, unfamiliar, and scary wilderness, God came to the Israelites with words of comfort. God comes to meet them many times in the wilderness… There’s the Exodus, when the Israelites are fleeing Egypt. God definitely clears a path for the Israelites out of Egypt in the dramatic parting of the Red Sea. Even in the midst of their complaining, God travels with the Israelites to the Promised Land. The Israelites turned away from God and did not heed the warnings of the prophets. The Israelites turned away from God, then were carted off to Babylonia, with Jerusalem in ruins. Yet God clears a way AGAIN for the Israelites to return to their land when they’re carted off to Babylon. Yes, the Israelites may have turned away from their God before the Babylonian exile, but GOD DID NOT ABANDON THEM EVEN THOUGH THEY SCREWED UP. God clears a way out of the wilderness for them. There’s something interesting about Isaiah’s words and the words of the Gospel… God is found in the most unexpected of places; God’s out in the wilderness. And even if God’s people have royally screwed up, God clears a way home for them.
The voice that cries out, proclaims, is God announcing the good news. We may think God’s out in the middle of nowhere. But when we think we know God, God has this nifty way of surprising God’s people time and time again. God being out in the wilderness can be thought of as weird and confusing. Sure, it seems backward and strange, lacking mass communication… But God is in the wilderness, experiencing the wilderness of human life with us. The Incarnation. This is what we’re waiting for in this Advent season; we’re waiting for God to come be with us. The amazing thing about God is that God is present in our past, in our present, and in our future. God reaching out to us in this amazing, crazy-loving way. God becoming human, to know of our lived experiences. The good, the bad, the clean, the outright messy. The Incarnation puts Christ in the middle of all of that, The feelings of anguish, of isolation, of our personal wilderness? Christ was there. Out being tempted in the wilderness. Feeling emotions of joy, anger, gladness, sorrow. And the cross. God being in the most unexpected of places, the worst kind of anguish up on that cross.
God knows our wilderness. God’s not just some entity out there, but God, CHRIST, knows our wilderness experiences because God’s been there too. And even in the middle of our wildernesses, we may have done something wrong. We may have turned away from God.
This is a time, even if we’ve committed sins, if we’ve done things we’re not proud of, that even in our broken humanness, valleys are lifted, mountains are made low, the ground becomes level, and the rough places are smoothed out. In stating, “The Good News of Jesus Christ, the Son of God” we’re told, “Look, here’s God!” With us, among us, knowing us and our experiences! Frank Honeycutt, a pastor in South Carolina, said, “God is building a highway home for people who have screwed up their lives.” And we’ve all screwed up somewhere along the way. But God’s good news welcomes those who’ve been lost along the way. Isaiah writes that all earthly things will pass; especially with the changing of seasons, we’ve seen grass wither, flowers fade… but God’s word? God’s word is the word incarnate, Jesus Christ, who comes to be with us. To forgive us our sins. To lead us back to God. To lead us back home. It’s an announcement to people who have screwed up along the way that God welcomes each and every one of us home.
Come home.
Delivered at St. Paul Lutheran Church, Oakland, California (my internship site)
My husband, Karl, and I were riding our bikes out in rural Ireland in 2004 for our honeymoon. We were going to undertake a pretty big trip by cycling up part of the western coast of Ireland. If you could have seen us on that first day; we were just giddy with excitement. We were going to start our lives together just being with each other, riding our bicycles in the idyllic Irish countryside. Never mind we’d only been married a week and a half, but marriage (and life, for that matter) is an adventure, right? Unfortunately, the first day of our bicycling adventure, after all the giddiness and excitement, did not go over so well. We both had a map that was highlighted for us by a local, but for some reason, the road we were on was not quite lining up with our map. We were supposed to turn onto another road, but the road that was on our map was nowhere to be seen. We were pedaling up and down this road, looking for this new road to materialize so we could get to our destination. But that road never showed itself.
We were lost. We were very, very lost.
We weren’t just lost anywhere. We were lost in an entirely different country, in the Irish countryside. Nothing but green fields, baa-ing sheep, and an occasional moo-ing cow. Sure, we could speak English, we had that much going for us, but that’s really not helpful when there’s not a whole lot of civilization around… we couldn’t just stop by a shop or someone’s house to ask for directions... We were in a place we had never visited before, so we didn’t have any familiar landmarks to help us get to where we were going. We didn’t know anyone. We didn’t have a cell phone with us. These were they days before affordable fancy GPS systems. All we had was a map. Karl and I were frustrated that we didn’t know where we were, and to top it all off, we were frustrated that we didn’t know quite where we were going. In our first week of marriage, this wasn’t exactly the best place to be, both physically and metaphorically. We were frustrated with our situation, but we tried really, really hard not to be frustrated with one another. We were out in the wilderness, alone and scared and wondering if we’d ever find our way out of the Irish countryside.
We did find our way back; otherwise Karl and I wouldn’t be in church today. But wandering out in the wilderness, being alone and scared, made me think of the prophet Isaiah’s words in this week’s lesson. This passage from Isaiah was written during a crazy time in Israel’s history. Israel had repeatedly turned away from their God; the prophets were trying to warn the people to turn from their selfish ways and turn back to God. The prophets stated that if the Israelites didn’t turn back to God, something bad was going to happen. That something bad was the Babylonians. The Babylonians not only conquered Jerusalem; they destroyed it. The Babylonians then carted the Israelites away from their home, marching them to Babylon. The Israelites were whisked away from a land that they loved and knew as home. The Israelites were in an awful wilderness in a foreign country being held against their will in a place they knew nothing about, in a land that wasn’t theirs. They turned away from God, and they found themselves out in the wilderness.
There’s something scary about being in the wilderness. There’s the physical wilderness, the middle of nowhere places that seem empty, desolate, and lacking life. Then there’s the theoretical wilderness in our spiritual, emotional, and psychological existence… times when we’re alone, destitute, feeling like we’ve royally screwed everything up and there’s nothing that can be done. The internal wilderness of despondency, isolation, and wondering, where, oh where, is God in the midst of all this mess? Have you been in a wilderness of doubt, of fear, or of anger wondering, “where in the heck is God in the midst of all this mess?”
God, it seems, is in the wilderness. But here’s another question: WHY is God out in the wilderness? The reading from Isaiah and the Gospel are filled with wilderness talk, and God is out in the midst of that middle-of-nowhere place.
Why the wilderness? I mean, even Judas questions the placement of proclamation in the wilderness in “Jesus Christ Superstar” when he asks Jesus, “Why'd you choose such a backwards time in such a strange land? If you'd come today you would've reached a whole nation! Israel in 4 B.C. had no mass communication…”
In the midst of being in an unknown, unfamiliar, and scary wilderness, God came to the Israelites with words of comfort. God comes to meet them many times in the wilderness… There’s the Exodus, when the Israelites are fleeing Egypt. God definitely clears a path for the Israelites out of Egypt in the dramatic parting of the Red Sea. Even in the midst of their complaining, God travels with the Israelites to the Promised Land. The Israelites turned away from God and did not heed the warnings of the prophets. The Israelites turned away from God, then were carted off to Babylonia, with Jerusalem in ruins. Yet God clears a way AGAIN for the Israelites to return to their land when they’re carted off to Babylon. Yes, the Israelites may have turned away from their God before the Babylonian exile, but GOD DID NOT ABANDON THEM EVEN THOUGH THEY SCREWED UP. God clears a way out of the wilderness for them. There’s something interesting about Isaiah’s words and the words of the Gospel… God is found in the most unexpected of places; God’s out in the wilderness. And even if God’s people have royally screwed up, God clears a way home for them.
The voice that cries out, proclaims, is God announcing the good news. We may think God’s out in the middle of nowhere. But when we think we know God, God has this nifty way of surprising God’s people time and time again. God being out in the wilderness can be thought of as weird and confusing. Sure, it seems backward and strange, lacking mass communication… But God is in the wilderness, experiencing the wilderness of human life with us. The Incarnation. This is what we’re waiting for in this Advent season; we’re waiting for God to come be with us. The amazing thing about God is that God is present in our past, in our present, and in our future. God reaching out to us in this amazing, crazy-loving way. God becoming human, to know of our lived experiences. The good, the bad, the clean, the outright messy. The Incarnation puts Christ in the middle of all of that, The feelings of anguish, of isolation, of our personal wilderness? Christ was there. Out being tempted in the wilderness. Feeling emotions of joy, anger, gladness, sorrow. And the cross. God being in the most unexpected of places, the worst kind of anguish up on that cross.
God knows our wilderness. God’s not just some entity out there, but God, CHRIST, knows our wilderness experiences because God’s been there too. And even in the middle of our wildernesses, we may have done something wrong. We may have turned away from God.
This is a time, even if we’ve committed sins, if we’ve done things we’re not proud of, that even in our broken humanness, valleys are lifted, mountains are made low, the ground becomes level, and the rough places are smoothed out. In stating, “The Good News of Jesus Christ, the Son of God” we’re told, “Look, here’s God!” With us, among us, knowing us and our experiences! Frank Honeycutt, a pastor in South Carolina, said, “God is building a highway home for people who have screwed up their lives.” And we’ve all screwed up somewhere along the way. But God’s good news welcomes those who’ve been lost along the way. Isaiah writes that all earthly things will pass; especially with the changing of seasons, we’ve seen grass wither, flowers fade… but God’s word? God’s word is the word incarnate, Jesus Christ, who comes to be with us. To forgive us our sins. To lead us back to God. To lead us back home. It’s an announcement to people who have screwed up along the way that God welcomes each and every one of us home.
Come home.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
A final reflection from my fellowship project.
I feel like I’ve started a lot of papers concerning Lutheran identity and how I have encountered my theological identity with the phrase, “The Evangelical Lutheran Church of America (ELCA) acknowledges that they struggle to be a diverse mainline Protestant denomination within the United States.” That struggle has become part of my faith formation and part of a personal challenge for me as well. Part of that struggle is having a sense of being “the other” within my denomination, which has contributed to a limited experience of being a member of the body of Christ. Part of that limited experience comes in naming the demon of racism. Racism, I found, was not a random occurrence, but institutional and systemic.
Throughout the discernment process, I was not only struggling to find my identity as a pastor and church leader, but also struggling to find my identity as a minority member of the ELCA, remembering that within the demographic makeup of the denomination, I represent less than 0.5% of the population within the ELCA. As such a small percentage of the ethnic makeup of the ELCA, I constantly wondered what would it mean to embody pastoral leadership? Were there others within pastoral and lay leadership that were willing to share their stories and experiences with me? Within part of my field study and academic coursework, I was very taken with testimonies and an exercise called “talk story.” It was through the means of testimony and “talk story” that the experiences of people deemed as “the other” had a very human face. Sharing stories and sharing experiences could be used as tools to create a community. With the opportunity to hear marginalized voices, I wanted to figure out ways to not only hear additional voices, but also find ways for voices to be heard throughout the denomination. With these testimonies, I wanted to think of ways to turn painful experiences into something constructive and life giving. Sharing stories is important for the church’s mission, partly to realize that we have different and rich experiences to share in our faith tradition, but also to recognize that individuals are created as special and unique beings that have unique experiences within a life of faith. Part of evangelization is through the sharing of testimony and personal stories of faith and experience. Within my discernment circle, I talked about a desire to interview Asian American pastors and lay leaders within the ELCA. It was important that the interviews take place face-to-face, as so much of a story and personality can be shared when being in the presence of a storyteller. I realized that I need to look speak with ordained and lay leaders who have had parallel experiences, sharing experience and talking to one another about those lived, embodied experiences. I had a desire to hear different stories, but to also wondering if sharing such stories would normalize my experience by getting to share my story within a community.
Part of the adventure of this project was finding interview subjects. I ended up taking a “snowball sample” of sorts. I would speak to one person, who would then refer me to more people. One of the successes of my project was the opportunity to network with Asian and Asian American pastors and lay leaders within the ELCA. Since I was lacking an ethnic community with which I could relate, this project provided me the valuable opportunity to speak to pastors and lay leaders and share our experiences with one another. There was the opportunity to find new to me brothers and sisters in Christ. Some of these new brothers and sisters in Christ shared similar experiences of confusion and otherness within the denomination. In sharing stories with one another, there was a common thread in conversations in thankfulness of meeting one another and having the opportunity to share stories with one another, face-to-face, and Incarnational, as opposed to reading words off a page or computer screen. Snowball sampling was also a weakness to the project. While it was adventurous to travel around the country speaking to new people, throughout the course of the project I heard about more people that I could have interviewed. While the project itself is over, I am still contacting people from the snowball sample.
I had personal expectations of interviewing people every day while visiting a new city. I prepared six questions used in every interview. Some of the questions were tailored depending on interviewing a pastor or a lay leader, but overall, the questions were very similar. I was surprised that many of the interviews were quite lengthy, some taking place over the course of many hours. I thought I could be mechanical in interviewing pastors and lay leaders. Initially, I was disappointed that I didn’t have interviews lined up every day, but I didn’t realize how I became emotionally invested in each interview. In retrospect, I am now glad I didn’t have interviews scheduled for every single day traveling. With some time off in each city I visited, I had time to process the interviews and if necessary, debrief with close confidants.
What did not work well in the project was part of my ingrained cultural conditioning. In speaking with older Asian and Asian American pastors, there was a sort of awkwardness with age and gender roles. Many interviews felt like a parent giving a child advice, and that as a dutiful and respectful child, I needed to follow through on such advice. I also wonder if my personal cultural issues contributed to me holding back on some of the interviews and asking more questions about the advice I received from the older male pastors.
Trying to edit a film in time to hopefully present something to the fellow’s retreat was also a mistake. I have around thirty hours of video for the interviews, as well as two hours of only audio recordings. With limited knowledge of film editing and software, this was a huge mistake. When I completed all of the interviews and returned home, I was overwhelmed with sifting through all of the video and audio to find a way to create a coherent short film. Since I only gave myself two weeks between the end of the interviews and the start of the fellow’s retreat, I realized in the midst of those two weeks that I would not be able to complete a short and coherent film in that amount of time. I’m still going through the video interviews, though, so I can have something to show my synodical office for next year.
Another aspect of the project that did not work for me was expanding the scope of my project. I went outside the scope of my revised proposal and visited three ELCA seminaries to talk about diversity education and how that was included in a seminary’s pedagogy. Since I was visiting three cities that were home to an ELCA seminary, I thought it would be a good opportunity to explore if and how diversity was being included in a seminary education. One of the three visits was successful. My time at Lutheran School of Theology Philadelphia was very valuable, but it was not necessary for me to visit Luther School of Theology Chicago and Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota. I had hopes that other ELCA seminaries were including diversity within their pedagogy in different ways, but I was not adequately prepared to ask the right questions when making these visits.
Initially, I felt that I was adequate in networking in a new community. When starting seminary, I did not know of the existence of the Asian American Pacific Islander (AAPI) Ministry within the ELCA’s Office of Multicultural Ministries. This project gave me the opportunity to meet many pastors and lay leaders involved with AAPI. When I initially started my seminary education, I was lonely and felt like a misfit toy on the island of misfit toys. I was no longer in solitary with my thoughts of being an Asian American woman seeking ordination and how that seemed to be an outlier of sorts within the ELCA.
I can share the conversations I had with AAPI pastors and lay leaders with my fellow seminarians, and hopefully with more people within the ELCA and other mainline Protestant churches. Through my seminary coursework, I have been repeatedly exposed to the dominant western European narrative of the Lutheran church and the European Lutheran migration to the United States. Part of my project was to explore my personal narrative and the narrative of Asians and Asian Americans within the ELCA. In getting to hear the stories of other Asians and Asian Americans, I was discovering new and unheard narratives within the church. I heard a dominant voice and a dominant story, but I was coming into conflict with some parts of the dominant narrative. I wanted to listen to voices that were within an underlying narrative. Part of me was seeking out people to tell their versions of their faith formation and faith journey. I was seeking a story that was maybe parallel to my own, but also a voice that was lying underneath the dominant narrative.
Much of the story telling and building community will continue past the life of this particular project. In the adventure of “snowball sampling,” I continue to hear about more conversation partners and storytellers. Even after presenting at the fellow’s retreat, I continue to meet with Asian and Asian American pastors and lay leaders to talk about lived experiences in ministry. I am continuing to meet with contacts and references in the San Francisco area because the process of community building and sharing stories will continue past my proposed FTE project.
Another continuation of the project is to nurture the relationships I’ve made throughout my summer travels. Part of continuing relationships will occur at the American Academy of Religion/ Society of Biblical Literature annual meeting in San Francisco this year. This will be the first year the Asian Theological Summer Institute will host a reunion. I will be able to attend this reunion and grow relationships with professors and doctoral students I met at the conference, as well as meet with previous institute alumni.
One of the consequences of my project involves a form of truth telling. While the ELCA struggles to be a diverse church body, there have been various actions of attempting to be a welcoming community. The ELCA will not name the demon of racism, yet still struggles with being a predominantly Caucasian church. Many within the ELCA do not want to talk about racism because it is an uncomfortable subject that reveals incredibly unfair power dynamics. While conversations about racism are incredibly uneasy and uncomfortable, avoiding such conversations is avoiding a root problem that prevents a church becoming a welcoming and diverse representation of the body of Christ.
One of the themes prevalent within my project that greatly impacted me was the use of voice. Using one’s voice to communicate love, pain, gratitude, and injustice can be a powerful act. One of my struggles was the actual use of my voice; part of my apprehension of using my voice came from cultural conditioning. In joining the church, I thought if I simply stayed quiet, problems would disappear. In seminary, I came to the realization that while using my voice was initially scary, voice was needed to talk about issues and ideas that were lying beneath the dominant narrative. I continue to form and reform my personal voice, and I wanted to explore my personal narrative within a greater denominational narrative. Mental models that greatly struck me were listening to as may voices as possible; the use of voice can be empowering, and if multiple voices come together, there is an incredible amount of strength that can come in delivering a message.
This project has been a transformational exercise for me. I joined the church with a certain naïveté; that naïveté transformed to something different when I entered seminary and was exposed to the institutional racism within the seminary and the systemic racism within the denomination. I remember reading Hauerwas’ Resident Aliens, calling the church to be counter-cultural against a secular culture; I started to compare the insular culture of the ELCA, and that such a culture conflicted with my definition of community, encompassing the diversity of imago dei found in the world. With this project, Hauerwas’s words became an Incarnational reality as there is a need to move from “church culture” in an insular guarded sense to a greater “Church Culture” to be representative of the diversity of the body of Christ.
I still truly believe the entire church, not just the ELCA, is called to evangelize and share the Gospel. The ELCA must re-examine being the “Evangelical” Lutheran Church of America if it is to be a diverse church body representative of the diversity found in the world. In questioning the issues of racism and my personal struggle with identity, I believe much truth-telling needs to take place within the denomination. Truth telling is a relational process. I believe that there is a need to honestly speak about contextual definitions. There is a need to openly and honestly talk about racism, but with the realization that such conversations need to happen in love. While I am still uneasy with conversations about racism, I am called to speak truth to the matter, but also to be in conversation with members of my denomination. speaking truth when it’s uncomfortable, awkward, and challenging the status quo is a drastic action. What does it mean for the denomination to talk about the face of God’s church? What happens when the face of God’s church bumps up against my notions and the notions of others concerning the face of the church? Are we listening to the petition in the Lord’s Prayer of “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven?”
Truth telling comes with continued sharing of experiences and story telling with one another. In telling stories of personal experiences, there is an opportunity to build community. With the story telling process comes the exposure of new narratives. In sharing our experiences in an embodied way, there is the potential to further discover and discuss the story of the church and the world. God’s work is that we are all the body of Christ.
Throughout the discernment process, I was not only struggling to find my identity as a pastor and church leader, but also struggling to find my identity as a minority member of the ELCA, remembering that within the demographic makeup of the denomination, I represent less than 0.5% of the population within the ELCA. As such a small percentage of the ethnic makeup of the ELCA, I constantly wondered what would it mean to embody pastoral leadership? Were there others within pastoral and lay leadership that were willing to share their stories and experiences with me? Within part of my field study and academic coursework, I was very taken with testimonies and an exercise called “talk story.” It was through the means of testimony and “talk story” that the experiences of people deemed as “the other” had a very human face. Sharing stories and sharing experiences could be used as tools to create a community. With the opportunity to hear marginalized voices, I wanted to figure out ways to not only hear additional voices, but also find ways for voices to be heard throughout the denomination. With these testimonies, I wanted to think of ways to turn painful experiences into something constructive and life giving. Sharing stories is important for the church’s mission, partly to realize that we have different and rich experiences to share in our faith tradition, but also to recognize that individuals are created as special and unique beings that have unique experiences within a life of faith. Part of evangelization is through the sharing of testimony and personal stories of faith and experience. Within my discernment circle, I talked about a desire to interview Asian American pastors and lay leaders within the ELCA. It was important that the interviews take place face-to-face, as so much of a story and personality can be shared when being in the presence of a storyteller. I realized that I need to look speak with ordained and lay leaders who have had parallel experiences, sharing experience and talking to one another about those lived, embodied experiences. I had a desire to hear different stories, but to also wondering if sharing such stories would normalize my experience by getting to share my story within a community.
Part of the adventure of this project was finding interview subjects. I ended up taking a “snowball sample” of sorts. I would speak to one person, who would then refer me to more people. One of the successes of my project was the opportunity to network with Asian and Asian American pastors and lay leaders within the ELCA. Since I was lacking an ethnic community with which I could relate, this project provided me the valuable opportunity to speak to pastors and lay leaders and share our experiences with one another. There was the opportunity to find new to me brothers and sisters in Christ. Some of these new brothers and sisters in Christ shared similar experiences of confusion and otherness within the denomination. In sharing stories with one another, there was a common thread in conversations in thankfulness of meeting one another and having the opportunity to share stories with one another, face-to-face, and Incarnational, as opposed to reading words off a page or computer screen. Snowball sampling was also a weakness to the project. While it was adventurous to travel around the country speaking to new people, throughout the course of the project I heard about more people that I could have interviewed. While the project itself is over, I am still contacting people from the snowball sample.
I had personal expectations of interviewing people every day while visiting a new city. I prepared six questions used in every interview. Some of the questions were tailored depending on interviewing a pastor or a lay leader, but overall, the questions were very similar. I was surprised that many of the interviews were quite lengthy, some taking place over the course of many hours. I thought I could be mechanical in interviewing pastors and lay leaders. Initially, I was disappointed that I didn’t have interviews lined up every day, but I didn’t realize how I became emotionally invested in each interview. In retrospect, I am now glad I didn’t have interviews scheduled for every single day traveling. With some time off in each city I visited, I had time to process the interviews and if necessary, debrief with close confidants.
What did not work well in the project was part of my ingrained cultural conditioning. In speaking with older Asian and Asian American pastors, there was a sort of awkwardness with age and gender roles. Many interviews felt like a parent giving a child advice, and that as a dutiful and respectful child, I needed to follow through on such advice. I also wonder if my personal cultural issues contributed to me holding back on some of the interviews and asking more questions about the advice I received from the older male pastors.
Trying to edit a film in time to hopefully present something to the fellow’s retreat was also a mistake. I have around thirty hours of video for the interviews, as well as two hours of only audio recordings. With limited knowledge of film editing and software, this was a huge mistake. When I completed all of the interviews and returned home, I was overwhelmed with sifting through all of the video and audio to find a way to create a coherent short film. Since I only gave myself two weeks between the end of the interviews and the start of the fellow’s retreat, I realized in the midst of those two weeks that I would not be able to complete a short and coherent film in that amount of time. I’m still going through the video interviews, though, so I can have something to show my synodical office for next year.
Another aspect of the project that did not work for me was expanding the scope of my project. I went outside the scope of my revised proposal and visited three ELCA seminaries to talk about diversity education and how that was included in a seminary’s pedagogy. Since I was visiting three cities that were home to an ELCA seminary, I thought it would be a good opportunity to explore if and how diversity was being included in a seminary education. One of the three visits was successful. My time at Lutheran School of Theology Philadelphia was very valuable, but it was not necessary for me to visit Luther School of Theology Chicago and Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota. I had hopes that other ELCA seminaries were including diversity within their pedagogy in different ways, but I was not adequately prepared to ask the right questions when making these visits.
Initially, I felt that I was adequate in networking in a new community. When starting seminary, I did not know of the existence of the Asian American Pacific Islander (AAPI) Ministry within the ELCA’s Office of Multicultural Ministries. This project gave me the opportunity to meet many pastors and lay leaders involved with AAPI. When I initially started my seminary education, I was lonely and felt like a misfit toy on the island of misfit toys. I was no longer in solitary with my thoughts of being an Asian American woman seeking ordination and how that seemed to be an outlier of sorts within the ELCA.
I can share the conversations I had with AAPI pastors and lay leaders with my fellow seminarians, and hopefully with more people within the ELCA and other mainline Protestant churches. Through my seminary coursework, I have been repeatedly exposed to the dominant western European narrative of the Lutheran church and the European Lutheran migration to the United States. Part of my project was to explore my personal narrative and the narrative of Asians and Asian Americans within the ELCA. In getting to hear the stories of other Asians and Asian Americans, I was discovering new and unheard narratives within the church. I heard a dominant voice and a dominant story, but I was coming into conflict with some parts of the dominant narrative. I wanted to listen to voices that were within an underlying narrative. Part of me was seeking out people to tell their versions of their faith formation and faith journey. I was seeking a story that was maybe parallel to my own, but also a voice that was lying underneath the dominant narrative.
Much of the story telling and building community will continue past the life of this particular project. In the adventure of “snowball sampling,” I continue to hear about more conversation partners and storytellers. Even after presenting at the fellow’s retreat, I continue to meet with Asian and Asian American pastors and lay leaders to talk about lived experiences in ministry. I am continuing to meet with contacts and references in the San Francisco area because the process of community building and sharing stories will continue past my proposed FTE project.
Another continuation of the project is to nurture the relationships I’ve made throughout my summer travels. Part of continuing relationships will occur at the American Academy of Religion/ Society of Biblical Literature annual meeting in San Francisco this year. This will be the first year the Asian Theological Summer Institute will host a reunion. I will be able to attend this reunion and grow relationships with professors and doctoral students I met at the conference, as well as meet with previous institute alumni.
One of the consequences of my project involves a form of truth telling. While the ELCA struggles to be a diverse church body, there have been various actions of attempting to be a welcoming community. The ELCA will not name the demon of racism, yet still struggles with being a predominantly Caucasian church. Many within the ELCA do not want to talk about racism because it is an uncomfortable subject that reveals incredibly unfair power dynamics. While conversations about racism are incredibly uneasy and uncomfortable, avoiding such conversations is avoiding a root problem that prevents a church becoming a welcoming and diverse representation of the body of Christ.
One of the themes prevalent within my project that greatly impacted me was the use of voice. Using one’s voice to communicate love, pain, gratitude, and injustice can be a powerful act. One of my struggles was the actual use of my voice; part of my apprehension of using my voice came from cultural conditioning. In joining the church, I thought if I simply stayed quiet, problems would disappear. In seminary, I came to the realization that while using my voice was initially scary, voice was needed to talk about issues and ideas that were lying beneath the dominant narrative. I continue to form and reform my personal voice, and I wanted to explore my personal narrative within a greater denominational narrative. Mental models that greatly struck me were listening to as may voices as possible; the use of voice can be empowering, and if multiple voices come together, there is an incredible amount of strength that can come in delivering a message.
This project has been a transformational exercise for me. I joined the church with a certain naïveté; that naïveté transformed to something different when I entered seminary and was exposed to the institutional racism within the seminary and the systemic racism within the denomination. I remember reading Hauerwas’ Resident Aliens, calling the church to be counter-cultural against a secular culture; I started to compare the insular culture of the ELCA, and that such a culture conflicted with my definition of community, encompassing the diversity of imago dei found in the world. With this project, Hauerwas’s words became an Incarnational reality as there is a need to move from “church culture” in an insular guarded sense to a greater “Church Culture” to be representative of the diversity of the body of Christ.
I still truly believe the entire church, not just the ELCA, is called to evangelize and share the Gospel. The ELCA must re-examine being the “Evangelical” Lutheran Church of America if it is to be a diverse church body representative of the diversity found in the world. In questioning the issues of racism and my personal struggle with identity, I believe much truth-telling needs to take place within the denomination. Truth telling is a relational process. I believe that there is a need to honestly speak about contextual definitions. There is a need to openly and honestly talk about racism, but with the realization that such conversations need to happen in love. While I am still uneasy with conversations about racism, I am called to speak truth to the matter, but also to be in conversation with members of my denomination. speaking truth when it’s uncomfortable, awkward, and challenging the status quo is a drastic action. What does it mean for the denomination to talk about the face of God’s church? What happens when the face of God’s church bumps up against my notions and the notions of others concerning the face of the church? Are we listening to the petition in the Lord’s Prayer of “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven?”
Truth telling comes with continued sharing of experiences and story telling with one another. In telling stories of personal experiences, there is an opportunity to build community. With the story telling process comes the exposure of new narratives. In sharing our experiences in an embodied way, there is the potential to further discover and discuss the story of the church and the world. God’s work is that we are all the body of Christ.
Friday, September 2, 2011
What is it like to put a collar on this body?
Do I become asexual?
Do I wear long earrings as a distraction?
Is my skirt too short? Too long? Too funky?
My shoes. I wanted something comfy, but in my vanity, not frumpy.
I do not relate to the women in WomanSpirit ads, their hands clasped piously and wearing Mona Lisa smiles.
Do I become asexual?
Do I wear long earrings as a distraction?
Is my skirt too short? Too long? Too funky?
My shoes. I wanted something comfy, but in my vanity, not frumpy.
I do not relate to the women in WomanSpirit ads, their hands clasped piously and wearing Mona Lisa smiles.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Twin Cities, Part II
My third visit in the Twin Cities was to Luther Seminary. This was outside the scope of my original proposal, though. I had the intention of traveling around visiting Asian American pastors in the ELCA (which means my visit to the Church of All Nations was also outside the original scope of my proposal), but the nature of a proposal is that it is merely that: a plan or a suggestion put forward. And the nature of plans or suggestions is that they are able to change, morph, and evolve. I realized while wandering around the library lounge at Lutheran School of Theology Chicago that I would be visiting cities that are home to ELCA Lutheran seminaries. I started this journey out at Lutheran School of Theology in Philadelphia, getting to wander the campus and interact with some of the professors. I attended chapel in Chicago, but did not have time for a guided tour of the physical building of the seminary and to speak to professors and staff about curriculum.
Why visit a seminary at this phase of the journey? Well, why not? I'm currently a seminary student at an ELCA seminary, and I was curious as to how other ELCA seminaries speak to "multicultural ministries." The staff at Luther made sure that I had a full day, but with this full day came many questions and some frustrations with seminary education and reactions with particular individuals in the ELCA. One conversation in particular was a struggle for me. The person I spoke with would throw out general terms such as "students of color," "international students," "us," and "them." Throughout the conversation, I asked her for clarification on these terms, to which she would add, "You know what I mean?" I told her, "No, actually I don't know what you mean." With words being used as powerful symbols, I get frustrated when words get thrown around without an adequate personal definition. I remember asking, "What do you mean by 'us'? Am I a part of this 'us'? Because if you're talking about students of color not being called to a congregation based on their physical appearance, I am not a part of your 'us.'" Honestly, I was sad and frustrated that this individual has a position which greatly impacts all students at Luther. She then asked me, "Well, you have all the answers, right?"
This is where I have an issue with diversity within the ELCA. Who then is responsible for acting to make the church a diverse body representative of humanity? Is it the responsibility of people of color to bring in diversity? Or is it the responsibility of each member of the denominational church body? Who then is accountable? Will the individual-ness of each person be honored if they come to the church, or will they be forced to act in a certain manner to match up with the dominant population?
I spoke with another individual who talked about some of the multicultural components that goes into a seminary education. One of my gripes with the whole of seminary education is that I wonder if I'm learning about ministry and theology that is applicable to the parish? Are future church leaders being trained to speak about race, gender, and class issues? Are future church leaders being trained in ecumenical and interfaith dialogue? Also, what the heck is multicultural ministry? There have been different definitions flying around since I've started this journey. There is no concrete definition for a multicultural ministry. With the constraints of seminary education, there is an incredible nuance; there can be a significant difference between what one is trained to do and what one is called to do.
I spoke with one of the staff of Church of All Nations before I left the Twin Cities. It was an insightful and challenging conversation. Part of the discussion led to the question, "Can there really be a 'multicultural' ministry?" What happens if populations are segregated? What happens when one population is forced to act unlike themselves to act like the majority? Colonialism still happens in the church, yet can we love one another when people don't fully understand who they are? Ultimately, I still think to John 13:34-35, which is one of the verse I carried with me during my Clinical Pastoral Education experience. "I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you should also love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." Yet, what does it mean to love? What does it look like to love? I revert back to my conversation with Pastor Jin Kim when he spoke of letting go of fears into the hands of the Spirit, freeing us to love each other, giving us the ability to tell each other, "I care about you" with genuine love and compassion.
Why visit a seminary at this phase of the journey? Well, why not? I'm currently a seminary student at an ELCA seminary, and I was curious as to how other ELCA seminaries speak to "multicultural ministries." The staff at Luther made sure that I had a full day, but with this full day came many questions and some frustrations with seminary education and reactions with particular individuals in the ELCA. One conversation in particular was a struggle for me. The person I spoke with would throw out general terms such as "students of color," "international students," "us," and "them." Throughout the conversation, I asked her for clarification on these terms, to which she would add, "You know what I mean?" I told her, "No, actually I don't know what you mean." With words being used as powerful symbols, I get frustrated when words get thrown around without an adequate personal definition. I remember asking, "What do you mean by 'us'? Am I a part of this 'us'? Because if you're talking about students of color not being called to a congregation based on their physical appearance, I am not a part of your 'us.'" Honestly, I was sad and frustrated that this individual has a position which greatly impacts all students at Luther. She then asked me, "Well, you have all the answers, right?"
This is where I have an issue with diversity within the ELCA. Who then is responsible for acting to make the church a diverse body representative of humanity? Is it the responsibility of people of color to bring in diversity? Or is it the responsibility of each member of the denominational church body? Who then is accountable? Will the individual-ness of each person be honored if they come to the church, or will they be forced to act in a certain manner to match up with the dominant population?
I spoke with another individual who talked about some of the multicultural components that goes into a seminary education. One of my gripes with the whole of seminary education is that I wonder if I'm learning about ministry and theology that is applicable to the parish? Are future church leaders being trained to speak about race, gender, and class issues? Are future church leaders being trained in ecumenical and interfaith dialogue? Also, what the heck is multicultural ministry? There have been different definitions flying around since I've started this journey. There is no concrete definition for a multicultural ministry. With the constraints of seminary education, there is an incredible nuance; there can be a significant difference between what one is trained to do and what one is called to do.
I spoke with one of the staff of Church of All Nations before I left the Twin Cities. It was an insightful and challenging conversation. Part of the discussion led to the question, "Can there really be a 'multicultural' ministry?" What happens if populations are segregated? What happens when one population is forced to act unlike themselves to act like the majority? Colonialism still happens in the church, yet can we love one another when people don't fully understand who they are? Ultimately, I still think to John 13:34-35, which is one of the verse I carried with me during my Clinical Pastoral Education experience. "I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you should also love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." Yet, what does it mean to love? What does it look like to love? I revert back to my conversation with Pastor Jin Kim when he spoke of letting go of fears into the hands of the Spirit, freeing us to love each other, giving us the ability to tell each other, "I care about you" with genuine love and compassion.
Catching Up and Processing.
I realize that I haven't visited this space in a couple of days. My time in Minneapolis/ St. Paul provided immense food for thought. I think I'm still processing a lot of the conversations that took place in Minnesota, because I see similar conversation threads appearing in people I'm speaking with in Los Angeles.
I had three meetings scheduled in the Twin Cities. My first meeting was with Pastor Thiem Baccam of the Lao Evangelical Lutheran Church of Robbinsdale, Minnesota. I found Pastor Baccam through the ELCA Asian American Pacific Islander Church listing. I pretty much cold called him, and he graciously agreed to be interviewed for my project. I was engrossed in Pastor Baccam's life story and ministry experience. He was raised as a Christian in Laos, but fled his home country in the mind 1970s. He and his family relocated to Iowa. While he identified as a Christian in Laos, he became Lutheran when he lived in the United States. He went on to attend college and seminary in Iowa. His ministry experience is also filled with incredible, blessed, and challenging events. He was called to lead a Laotian congregation in the Twin Cities area when he left seminary. His congregation fluctuated in size, nested with white congregations, had their own physical church building until Minneapolis seized the building for eminent domain as the church sat in an area of the city that was being redeveloped and revitalized, and making the space to minister to first and second generation Laotians. Parts of my conversation with Pastor Baccam resonate in my head. He and lay leaders within his congregation had to restructure the liturgy for worship so that worship communicates to his congregation's context. He also wrestled with having separate language services; he currently has one service which is bilingual. He stated there is challenges in such worship, as the first generation is comfortable worshiping in Laotian and the second generation is comfortable worshiping in English. Pastor Baccam has provided pastoral care to both groups, but also letting both populations know that room must be made for community to exist as a *single* community, as opposed to a community separated by language and generational differences. Pastor Baccam is highly invested in the younger people in his congregation, seeing ministry leadership traits abound in this population. He wants to grow leaders from within his church; he encourages such leadership in worship and organizing community activities. He believes that part of his ministry is to strengthen the priesthood of all believers.
Pastor Baccam's congregation has experienced numerous changes. He stated the congregation has nested in several buildings, even owning their own building at one point. Membership increases and decreases. Latinos, Blacks, and Whites are now coming to worship in his bilingual Laotian/ English services. He's wondering how to be an inclusive church, recognizing that the life of this congregation continues to change and evolve. He's partnered with the Pentecostal congregation that shares the same church building and they're having their first joint worship service on July 10th. He is also working to strengthen the relationship with the white congregation that owns the physical property of the church. They share in fellowship activities, but Pastor Baccam acknowledged that there are some cultural differences between the two communities that hamper clear communication. In speaking with Pastor Baccam, he is living in a space where he as the opportunity for creative ministries. Since I only spent time with him, I wonder what ministry within this congregation will look like in the coming months and the next few years.
My next meeting was transformational and incredible. I read about Church of All Nations in Dr. Joanne Doi's Asian American Theologies class. In Sang Hyun Lee's book, "From a Liminal Place: An Asian American Theology," he talks about the diverse population within the congregation at Church of All Nations. How can such a diverse population worship as a single community? What does the church leadership look like theologically and physically? What advice would the lead pastor (in this case, Pastor Jin Kim) have for future leaders of the church? What advice would the pastor and staff have for congregations that are wrestling with a sense of identity? I spent a couple of hours in the church staff meeting. I was intrigued by the meeting; I've sat in meetings where the church is concerned about the needs of the immediate congregation and the physical building of the church with little regard to the church catholic. I also realize this can be seen as an unfair statement because no church meeting is the same and each church has its own unique concerns. But I can speak to the church meetings I have attended (and at different congregations) and the similarity was focusing on the immediate needs of the immediately present congregation.
Part of looking at the greater church was from the pastor and one of the staff returning from a Korean caucus meeting. Changes in ordination processes (similar to the ordination of LGBT clergy within the ELCA) are coming about within the PCUSA. In Pastor Jin's keynote address to the caucus, he stated that the Holy Spirit has left the PCUSA. Pastor Jin and the staff talked about this present time being a critical period within the PCUSA's history, and also a critical period in history for the Korean church in America.
In visiting with Church of All Nations, much of the conversation with Pastor Jin focused on identity and the state of mainline Protestant traditions in the United States. I was intrigued by a list I saw on the wall titled, "Who We Are." It is a ten-point list that was created at their Board of Deacon's Retreat on May 2, 1010. Their "Top 10" can be found if you scroll down on this page. In pastoral identity, Pastor Jin spoke to me about transforming character. They have an internship program where there is not an assigned time limit; character cannot be developed within a rigid amount of time. Transforming character is something that cannot be confined to the constraints of time; it is instead carefully developed.
I was excited and challenged by my conversation with Pastor Jin and interacting with the staff at Church of All Nations. I cannot fully describe in words on this blog how I was impacted by the visit. There are so many topics in my head, particularly transformation versus deformation, fear in church communities, placing fears and apprehensions on the Holy Spirit to freely love people as they are, self-esteem, and Jesus being victimized but never playing the victim. I will probably come back to this space to communicate my experience with the people of Church of All Nations.
With all of this processing, I will use my next post to talk about my visit to Luther Seminary, my frustrations with theological education, and my journeys in the southern California area.
I had three meetings scheduled in the Twin Cities. My first meeting was with Pastor Thiem Baccam of the Lao Evangelical Lutheran Church of Robbinsdale, Minnesota. I found Pastor Baccam through the ELCA Asian American Pacific Islander Church listing. I pretty much cold called him, and he graciously agreed to be interviewed for my project. I was engrossed in Pastor Baccam's life story and ministry experience. He was raised as a Christian in Laos, but fled his home country in the mind 1970s. He and his family relocated to Iowa. While he identified as a Christian in Laos, he became Lutheran when he lived in the United States. He went on to attend college and seminary in Iowa. His ministry experience is also filled with incredible, blessed, and challenging events. He was called to lead a Laotian congregation in the Twin Cities area when he left seminary. His congregation fluctuated in size, nested with white congregations, had their own physical church building until Minneapolis seized the building for eminent domain as the church sat in an area of the city that was being redeveloped and revitalized, and making the space to minister to first and second generation Laotians. Parts of my conversation with Pastor Baccam resonate in my head. He and lay leaders within his congregation had to restructure the liturgy for worship so that worship communicates to his congregation's context. He also wrestled with having separate language services; he currently has one service which is bilingual. He stated there is challenges in such worship, as the first generation is comfortable worshiping in Laotian and the second generation is comfortable worshiping in English. Pastor Baccam has provided pastoral care to both groups, but also letting both populations know that room must be made for community to exist as a *single* community, as opposed to a community separated by language and generational differences. Pastor Baccam is highly invested in the younger people in his congregation, seeing ministry leadership traits abound in this population. He wants to grow leaders from within his church; he encourages such leadership in worship and organizing community activities. He believes that part of his ministry is to strengthen the priesthood of all believers.
Pastor Baccam's congregation has experienced numerous changes. He stated the congregation has nested in several buildings, even owning their own building at one point. Membership increases and decreases. Latinos, Blacks, and Whites are now coming to worship in his bilingual Laotian/ English services. He's wondering how to be an inclusive church, recognizing that the life of this congregation continues to change and evolve. He's partnered with the Pentecostal congregation that shares the same church building and they're having their first joint worship service on July 10th. He is also working to strengthen the relationship with the white congregation that owns the physical property of the church. They share in fellowship activities, but Pastor Baccam acknowledged that there are some cultural differences between the two communities that hamper clear communication. In speaking with Pastor Baccam, he is living in a space where he as the opportunity for creative ministries. Since I only spent time with him, I wonder what ministry within this congregation will look like in the coming months and the next few years.
My next meeting was transformational and incredible. I read about Church of All Nations in Dr. Joanne Doi's Asian American Theologies class. In Sang Hyun Lee's book, "From a Liminal Place: An Asian American Theology," he talks about the diverse population within the congregation at Church of All Nations. How can such a diverse population worship as a single community? What does the church leadership look like theologically and physically? What advice would the lead pastor (in this case, Pastor Jin Kim) have for future leaders of the church? What advice would the pastor and staff have for congregations that are wrestling with a sense of identity? I spent a couple of hours in the church staff meeting. I was intrigued by the meeting; I've sat in meetings where the church is concerned about the needs of the immediate congregation and the physical building of the church with little regard to the church catholic. I also realize this can be seen as an unfair statement because no church meeting is the same and each church has its own unique concerns. But I can speak to the church meetings I have attended (and at different congregations) and the similarity was focusing on the immediate needs of the immediately present congregation.
Part of looking at the greater church was from the pastor and one of the staff returning from a Korean caucus meeting. Changes in ordination processes (similar to the ordination of LGBT clergy within the ELCA) are coming about within the PCUSA. In Pastor Jin's keynote address to the caucus, he stated that the Holy Spirit has left the PCUSA. Pastor Jin and the staff talked about this present time being a critical period within the PCUSA's history, and also a critical period in history for the Korean church in America.
In visiting with Church of All Nations, much of the conversation with Pastor Jin focused on identity and the state of mainline Protestant traditions in the United States. I was intrigued by a list I saw on the wall titled, "Who We Are." It is a ten-point list that was created at their Board of Deacon's Retreat on May 2, 1010. Their "Top 10" can be found if you scroll down on this page. In pastoral identity, Pastor Jin spoke to me about transforming character. They have an internship program where there is not an assigned time limit; character cannot be developed within a rigid amount of time. Transforming character is something that cannot be confined to the constraints of time; it is instead carefully developed.
I was excited and challenged by my conversation with Pastor Jin and interacting with the staff at Church of All Nations. I cannot fully describe in words on this blog how I was impacted by the visit. There are so many topics in my head, particularly transformation versus deformation, fear in church communities, placing fears and apprehensions on the Holy Spirit to freely love people as they are, self-esteem, and Jesus being victimized but never playing the victim. I will probably come back to this space to communicate my experience with the people of Church of All Nations.
With all of this processing, I will use my next post to talk about my visit to Luther Seminary, my frustrations with theological education, and my journeys in the southern California area.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Sowing of seeds.
I had a wonderful last couple of days in Chicago. Friday was spent visiting Lutheran Theological Seminary Chicago and attending a chapel led by a Missionary Baptist praise team. The sermon was titled, "Desperate times call for desperate measures." The text was from Matthew 15 of the faith of the Caananite woman, desperate to heal her child. I continue to struggle with the text concerning the Caananite woman, because Jesus comes off as kind of a jerk. The preacher spoke of Jesus pulling reversals on everyone, being an expert of sorts. But the Caananite woman is the one to pull a reversal on the ruler of reversals. She does this in great desperation for her daughter, but also in great faith. The preacher spoke to how he has been marginalized in so many ways, and in his desperation, Christ comes to meet him. For just coming off a bus and walking into the seminary's chapel, this sermon was spiritual food.
How does spiritual food come about? Agriculturally, seeds need to be sown in order to grow food. I thought about the sowing of seeds my last couple of days in Chicago for many reasons. One reason was that so many people from transitional parts of my life were in Chicago that same weekend. A member of my failed master's thesis committee was in Chicago visiting friends. One of my first friends from Fuller Theological Seminary was in town for his 25th high school reunion. A fellow PLTS student was in town for meetings. And Chris Heavner was in town. My husband and I lovingly refer to Christ Heavner as PC; many of Chris's flock call him PC as well. PC is the campus pastor at Clemson University in Clemson, SC. It is through PC's conversations and patience that I became curious about Christianity. As a joke, I tell people that I became Lutheran because I went to a potluck, but I think the Spirit was working on me through PC. I met PC when I was a sophomore in college; one of my best friends invited me to a potluck at University Lutheran Church and I went because there was going to be free home-cooked food. But what came out of that potluck was a sense of koinonia and love; being in community was actually awkward for me since I was so used to worshiping with just my family. I graduated from Clemson thankful for knowing PC through campus ministry and Habitat for Humanity, not thinking much about how PC would impact my future. I worked as a consultant for a couple of years. I met Karl. Then Karl and I decided to get married. PC re-entered our lives, and in quite an interesting way. PC, Karl, and I met once a week for two years so I could ask PC anything about Christianity; PC would answer my questions to the best of his ability, and he could ask me questions about my faith journey. This was an incredible time of learning and growing for me. And it was at University Lutheran, in the midst of singing "I Was There to Hear Your Borning Cry" that I experienced God's love and grace. I was actually so freaked out by the experience, I burst into tears in the middle of the hymn. And I was scared. I experienced a real God in church, but didn't know if I wanted to follow God. So I wavered. I wavered for two years, when I was finally baptized at Salem Lutheran Church in Glendale, CA, on the other side of the country from Clemson, SC.
Getting to spend time with PC in Chicago was a wonderful experience for me. It was in Chicago where PC was a seminarian and worked for the church office. It was wonderful to hear of his experiences in the city and to share my own with him. We wandered around the city talking about ministry experiences. We talked about loving people, even though it's not always easy. We talked about changes in mainline churches. We also talked about internship and community.
After such a rich experience getting to spend time with PC, I was excited to go to church on Sunday morning. I planned to attend First Evangelical Lutheran Church located in Logan Square. When I stepped off the Blue Line, I was reminded of my experiences in the neighborhood around University of Southern California. There were shop signs in Spanish, but also upscale eateries. The neighborhood looked like it was in transition. I reached the church and met Pastor Eardley Mendis (Pastor Mendis is originally from Sri Lanka). I joined in the Bible study, which was in both Spanish and English. I participated in worship, where I read the Hebrew Bible reading from Jeremiah 28:5-9 concerning true and false prophets. I was also asked to give my testimony at the end of the service. I spoke to the congregation and told them a brief version of my story and how I am currently a seminarian. I spoke to the awesomeness and mysteriousness of God's love. I joined members of the congregation for lunch. I was hoping to interview Pastor Mendis, but the realities of ministry made the interview not possible. We were hoping to speak after lunch, but the front wheel of a parishioner's bicycle went missing. The bicycle was the only means of transportation for this parishioner, and there was a search for the missing wheel. I spoke to Pastor Mendis later in the evening, and he gave the parishioner money for a new wheel.
I was very struck by the mural immediately behind the chancel space in the church. The mural was a sign that the congregation itself appeared to be in fluctuation. The mural depicted a predominantly Caucasian population, ranging from crusaders, pilgrims, and pioneers. Native Americans were placed at the bottom of the mural, not directly gazing at the congregation like the other people in the mural. Representative in the congregation, however, were Latinos, Blacks, Whites, and Asians. We knelt together at the communion rail, recognizing our common bond in brother and sisterhood in Christ. I was happy to be in church that Sunday morning.
How does spiritual food come about? Agriculturally, seeds need to be sown in order to grow food. I thought about the sowing of seeds my last couple of days in Chicago for many reasons. One reason was that so many people from transitional parts of my life were in Chicago that same weekend. A member of my failed master's thesis committee was in Chicago visiting friends. One of my first friends from Fuller Theological Seminary was in town for his 25th high school reunion. A fellow PLTS student was in town for meetings. And Chris Heavner was in town. My husband and I lovingly refer to Christ Heavner as PC; many of Chris's flock call him PC as well. PC is the campus pastor at Clemson University in Clemson, SC. It is through PC's conversations and patience that I became curious about Christianity. As a joke, I tell people that I became Lutheran because I went to a potluck, but I think the Spirit was working on me through PC. I met PC when I was a sophomore in college; one of my best friends invited me to a potluck at University Lutheran Church and I went because there was going to be free home-cooked food. But what came out of that potluck was a sense of koinonia and love; being in community was actually awkward for me since I was so used to worshiping with just my family. I graduated from Clemson thankful for knowing PC through campus ministry and Habitat for Humanity, not thinking much about how PC would impact my future. I worked as a consultant for a couple of years. I met Karl. Then Karl and I decided to get married. PC re-entered our lives, and in quite an interesting way. PC, Karl, and I met once a week for two years so I could ask PC anything about Christianity; PC would answer my questions to the best of his ability, and he could ask me questions about my faith journey. This was an incredible time of learning and growing for me. And it was at University Lutheran, in the midst of singing "I Was There to Hear Your Borning Cry" that I experienced God's love and grace. I was actually so freaked out by the experience, I burst into tears in the middle of the hymn. And I was scared. I experienced a real God in church, but didn't know if I wanted to follow God. So I wavered. I wavered for two years, when I was finally baptized at Salem Lutheran Church in Glendale, CA, on the other side of the country from Clemson, SC.
Getting to spend time with PC in Chicago was a wonderful experience for me. It was in Chicago where PC was a seminarian and worked for the church office. It was wonderful to hear of his experiences in the city and to share my own with him. We wandered around the city talking about ministry experiences. We talked about loving people, even though it's not always easy. We talked about changes in mainline churches. We also talked about internship and community.
After such a rich experience getting to spend time with PC, I was excited to go to church on Sunday morning. I planned to attend First Evangelical Lutheran Church located in Logan Square. When I stepped off the Blue Line, I was reminded of my experiences in the neighborhood around University of Southern California. There were shop signs in Spanish, but also upscale eateries. The neighborhood looked like it was in transition. I reached the church and met Pastor Eardley Mendis (Pastor Mendis is originally from Sri Lanka). I joined in the Bible study, which was in both Spanish and English. I participated in worship, where I read the Hebrew Bible reading from Jeremiah 28:5-9 concerning true and false prophets. I was also asked to give my testimony at the end of the service. I spoke to the congregation and told them a brief version of my story and how I am currently a seminarian. I spoke to the awesomeness and mysteriousness of God's love. I joined members of the congregation for lunch. I was hoping to interview Pastor Mendis, but the realities of ministry made the interview not possible. We were hoping to speak after lunch, but the front wheel of a parishioner's bicycle went missing. The bicycle was the only means of transportation for this parishioner, and there was a search for the missing wheel. I spoke to Pastor Mendis later in the evening, and he gave the parishioner money for a new wheel.
I was very struck by the mural immediately behind the chancel space in the church. The mural was a sign that the congregation itself appeared to be in fluctuation. The mural depicted a predominantly Caucasian population, ranging from crusaders, pilgrims, and pioneers. Native Americans were placed at the bottom of the mural, not directly gazing at the congregation like the other people in the mural. Representative in the congregation, however, were Latinos, Blacks, Whites, and Asians. We knelt together at the communion rail, recognizing our common bond in brother and sisterhood in Christ. I was happy to be in church that Sunday morning.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Thoughts on the day.
Today I participated in a roundtable discussion at Truth Lutheran Church in Naperville, IL. This was a valuable opportunity to talk to Asian pastoral leadership in the ELCA. En route to Naperville, I had an interesting conversation with Pongsak Limthongvirtan about Multicultural Ministries in the ELCA. He had some advice for me, which was to get a PhD. I'm still struggling with this as part of my discernment process, because I'm called to serve the church, yet I still don't quite know what that looks like... is it as a pastor, or as an educator, and of course, why not a pastor/ educator? This comment also made me wonder about my future in the church. Maybe I'm over-thinking the comment, but is the PhD to prove something, and what
In speaking with the pastors and lay leaders in attendance, we spoke about pastoral identity, "Lutheran identity," hopes and expectations for the Office of Multicultural Ministries, creative ministry, and a church that is becoming increasingly marginalized.
One of the aspects of "multicultural" ministry with which I still struggle is separated services. Two pastors in attendance stated that they have a native language service, with the second generation population attending a separate English service. Truth Lutheran Church even has two separate sanctuaries and the native language service is the same time as the English language service. There is a combined service once a month. There are fellowship opportunities to bring the separate worship communities together, but what binds the communities together?
Two of the pastors also spoke of bringing not just their ethnicity to the table, but their life and ministry experiences. There was mention of segregating the Asian/ Asian American population to their own church, but at what cost? Is that representative of the body of Christ?
We also talked about definitions of "identity" and "multiculturalism." Words have such loaded meanings, especially in speaking about self and lived experience. A word as a symbol can mean entirely different things among different people. How then do we communicate when a symbol carries a multitude of meanings? How then does translation occur?
In speaking with the pastors and lay leaders in attendance, we spoke about pastoral identity, "Lutheran identity," hopes and expectations for the Office of Multicultural Ministries, creative ministry, and a church that is becoming increasingly marginalized.
One of the aspects of "multicultural" ministry with which I still struggle is separated services. Two pastors in attendance stated that they have a native language service, with the second generation population attending a separate English service. Truth Lutheran Church even has two separate sanctuaries and the native language service is the same time as the English language service. There is a combined service once a month. There are fellowship opportunities to bring the separate worship communities together, but what binds the communities together?
Two of the pastors also spoke of bringing not just their ethnicity to the table, but their life and ministry experiences. There was mention of segregating the Asian/ Asian American population to their own church, but at what cost? Is that representative of the body of Christ?
We also talked about definitions of "identity" and "multiculturalism." Words have such loaded meanings, especially in speaking about self and lived experience. A word as a symbol can mean entirely different things among different people. How then do we communicate when a symbol carries a multitude of meanings? How then does translation occur?
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Think Glocally.
The past couple of days have been wonderful and interesting. Yesterday started the second part of my trips focusing on my FTE Fellowship project. I left San Francisco in the morning and arrived in Chicago in the afternoon. Once I checked into my hotel room, I hopped on the Blue Line to meet a fellow FTE Fellow, Jennifer. Jennifer, her friend, and I dined at a Puerto Rican restaurant called Borinquen where I ate my first jibarito (meat between pieces of fried plantains). The discussion over dinner was amazing. Jennifer and I talked about the similarity of our projects, and Jennifer's friend had phenomenal input on speaking of embodied experience and "languages" learned by our bodies. The conversation continued at Jennifer's apartment over dessert. It was an incredible conversation and such a sacred space. As Jennifer's friend stated, she didn't believe in accidents. Last night's conversation reminded me of words as symbols, and that such symbols have different definitions in different contexts.
Today I visited the Churchwide Office of the ELCA. I spoke with Sunitha Mortha, director of the ELCA Global Formation Program. We spoke about issues of identity as well. We spoke at length about the nebulous concept of "Lutheran identity," and how that is a highly contextual notion. What could be considered Lutheran in one location may not be considered as Lutheran in another location. We spoke a lot about shifting ideas in theological education, and paradigm shifts in not only theological education, but in ministry.
Sunitha is currently working on "Glocal Mission Gatherings," which are taking place all over the United States throughout 2010 and 2011 (click on the link to find out more about these gatherings on Facebook; the ELCA link is here). These gatherings are asking vital questions, such as "What is mission?" and "Who is the neighbor?" particularly in a world of migration and immigration. We talked about the changing world of mission work; missionary work does not have to be an exotic notion of colonizing a far-away land, but mission can happen in the pews, immediately outside the walls of the church. She is working to create spaces where people can share their feelings, thoughts, and ideas concerning ideas of modern mission. Trinity Lutheran Seminary is going to be the first seminary to host a Glocal Gathering. I think speaking of Glocal Mission is vital for future church leaders; when she told me that there was a seminary participating, I was excited that a ministry experience was being brought to future church leaders. I think Glocal experiences should not be limited to a cross-cultural requirement, but that mission work should be integral to theological education.
We also spoke on issues of diversity and responsibility. How can the church become more diverse? We talked about the continuing paradigm shifts in ministry, but we also talked about coming from a tradition of reformation. The church, in light of recent economic problems, is being forced to reform. We also talked about Martin Luther; what would happen if he walked into a present-day ELCA church? What would he say?
Meeting Sunitha and having the opportunity to speak with her was such an incredible experience which parleyed to last night's discussion with Jennifer and Jennifer's friend. This experience continues to be an incredible experience and blessing.
Today I visited the Churchwide Office of the ELCA. I spoke with Sunitha Mortha, director of the ELCA Global Formation Program. We spoke about issues of identity as well. We spoke at length about the nebulous concept of "Lutheran identity," and how that is a highly contextual notion. What could be considered Lutheran in one location may not be considered as Lutheran in another location. We spoke a lot about shifting ideas in theological education, and paradigm shifts in not only theological education, but in ministry.
Sunitha is currently working on "Glocal Mission Gatherings," which are taking place all over the United States throughout 2010 and 2011 (click on the link to find out more about these gatherings on Facebook; the ELCA link is here). These gatherings are asking vital questions, such as "What is mission?" and "Who is the neighbor?" particularly in a world of migration and immigration. We talked about the changing world of mission work; missionary work does not have to be an exotic notion of colonizing a far-away land, but mission can happen in the pews, immediately outside the walls of the church. She is working to create spaces where people can share their feelings, thoughts, and ideas concerning ideas of modern mission. Trinity Lutheran Seminary is going to be the first seminary to host a Glocal Gathering. I think speaking of Glocal Mission is vital for future church leaders; when she told me that there was a seminary participating, I was excited that a ministry experience was being brought to future church leaders. I think Glocal experiences should not be limited to a cross-cultural requirement, but that mission work should be integral to theological education.
We also spoke on issues of diversity and responsibility. How can the church become more diverse? We talked about the continuing paradigm shifts in ministry, but we also talked about coming from a tradition of reformation. The church, in light of recent economic problems, is being forced to reform. We also talked about Martin Luther; what would happen if he walked into a present-day ELCA church? What would he say?
Meeting Sunitha and having the opportunity to speak with her was such an incredible experience which parleyed to last night's discussion with Jennifer and Jennifer's friend. This experience continues to be an incredible experience and blessing.
Monday, June 20, 2011
On the Road. Again.
I leave tomorrow morning for the second leg of my travels. I will first go to Chicago, the location of the main offices for the ELCA. My time in Chicago will be incredibly busy, but I'm also looking forward to it. My first interview is with the head of Global Missions for the ELCA. She is a lay leader within the denomination, and I'll be asking her about lay leadership, and hopes and expectations for diversifying the denomination.
My second interview will be with the head of Asian American Pacific Islander ministry within the Office of Multicultural Ministries. From this second interview, I will then participate in a roundtable discussion with seven other Asian American leaders within the denomination. I hope that we'll talk about hopes and expectations for Multicultural Ministries, especially with budget cuts impacting the ELCA.
I will then travel to Minneapolis/ St. Paul, Minnesota, where I will speak to an ordained Asian American pastor. Why Minnesota? Honestly, why not? One of the reasons for selecting Minnesota is its historical ties with Lutheranism, as well as being the home for Luther Seminary, the largest ELCA seminary. Part of my visit to the Twin Cities is to see contextual education at the largest ELCA seminary and how they're training future church leaders in "multicultural ministry."
After Minneapolis/ St. Paul, I'm then headed to Los Angeles, which is the location of my home congregation and home synod. I'll be meeting with the head of Asian American Pacific Islander ministry for the Pacifica Synod. I'm also hoping to attend a bilingual church service in Arcadia (English and Chinese).
After returning home from ATSI in Philly, I've worked on simple, open-ended questions. Here they are, in no particular order. They'll be ordered by the time I make it to Chicago...
1. Who have been your role models/ mentors?
2. Can you tell me about yourself, your ministry experience, and your call process?
3. What are your hopes and expectations for Multicultural Ministries?
4. Dreaming big and without limitations, what would Multicultural Ministries do to diversify the church?
5. Define your personal sense of pastoral identity (for ordained ministers)?
6. Define your personal sense of Incarnational identity (for ordained ministers)?
7. What do you think should be the primary focus of Multicultural Ministries, particularly in light of recent ELCA budget cuts?
8. How do you define Lutheran identity in your personal context?
For those of you perusing the blog, how would you answer these questions? Feel free to leave your answers in the comments!
My second interview will be with the head of Asian American Pacific Islander ministry within the Office of Multicultural Ministries. From this second interview, I will then participate in a roundtable discussion with seven other Asian American leaders within the denomination. I hope that we'll talk about hopes and expectations for Multicultural Ministries, especially with budget cuts impacting the ELCA.
I will then travel to Minneapolis/ St. Paul, Minnesota, where I will speak to an ordained Asian American pastor. Why Minnesota? Honestly, why not? One of the reasons for selecting Minnesota is its historical ties with Lutheranism, as well as being the home for Luther Seminary, the largest ELCA seminary. Part of my visit to the Twin Cities is to see contextual education at the largest ELCA seminary and how they're training future church leaders in "multicultural ministry."
After Minneapolis/ St. Paul, I'm then headed to Los Angeles, which is the location of my home congregation and home synod. I'll be meeting with the head of Asian American Pacific Islander ministry for the Pacifica Synod. I'm also hoping to attend a bilingual church service in Arcadia (English and Chinese).
After returning home from ATSI in Philly, I've worked on simple, open-ended questions. Here they are, in no particular order. They'll be ordered by the time I make it to Chicago...
1. Who have been your role models/ mentors?
2. Can you tell me about yourself, your ministry experience, and your call process?
3. What are your hopes and expectations for Multicultural Ministries?
4. Dreaming big and without limitations, what would Multicultural Ministries do to diversify the church?
5. Define your personal sense of pastoral identity (for ordained ministers)?
6. Define your personal sense of Incarnational identity (for ordained ministers)?
7. What do you think should be the primary focus of Multicultural Ministries, particularly in light of recent ELCA budget cuts?
8. How do you define Lutheran identity in your personal context?
For those of you perusing the blog, how would you answer these questions? Feel free to leave your answers in the comments!
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
A response to The Namesake for my Asian American Theologies class
The first time I read The Namesake, I finally felt like someone understood my story as living between worlds, or not quite fitting into worlds at all. I spent much of my life wandering around thinking that there wasn’t anyone that really shared in my story. When I read the book, I felt like a light switch went off in my life. Here was an author who somehow knew my story and turned it into a bestselling novel.
Reading the book years later through the lens of a seminary student, I saw new things. I very much related this reading of The Namesake to Peter Phan’s idea of "betwixt and between" (Peter C. Phan, "The Dragon and the Eagle: Toward a Vietnamese-American Theology" in Realizing the America of Our Hearts: Theological Voices of Asian Americans, 164). Living between worlds is further highlighted with the unfortunate incident of Gogol receiving his given name at the hospital. Gogol’s name amplifies his inability to fit into the country of his birth, the United States of America, as well as the inability to fit into the country of his ancestry, India. Gogol, as a teenager and young adult, laments that his name is of an ill-fated Russian writer. He claims his name sounds peculiar, and is further embarrassed when he discovers that the writer Nikolai Gogol led a tortured and conflicted life. Part of the irony is that Gogol himself is in a sense tortured and conflicted. He cannot communicate with or understand his parents; his parents are from a different land and a different culture from which Gogol is so far removed. He blames his parents for much of his young adult life concerning the awkwardness of his name; it is only later that Gogol discovers that his name has incredible significance, as the name Gogol is related to Ashoke’s second chance at life, a resurrection of sorts, to create himself as something new and to travel to a new land.
A life of betwixt and between is also reflected in Ashoke and Ashima’s relationship with each other, and their life as husband and wife in the United States. Ashima has constant thoughts of wanting to return home to Calcutta. She carries around mementos of her family and former life in India; she reads and rereads letters from her family, Bengali magazines, and Bengali books. She longs for her family to help her raise her children. Ashima and Ashoke live a life in exile from their home country. Much of Ashima’s thoughts are lamentations, missing her home country and her family. She finds substitutions within the Indian and Bengali community in the United States, but Ashima reflects that these are but mere substitutes for a reality that she once knew. She laments that she does not feel a connection with or understand her American-born children. In this life led in exile, Ashoke and Ashima do not make outrageous attempts to assimilate to the culture. They do eventually have to give Gogol a legal name, they purchase a home in a suburb, Ashoke has a professorship at a university, and accommodations are made to make by Gogol’s and Sonia’s request, such as celebrating a secular form of Christmas, and inevitably having to give in to the wishes of a five-year old Gogol to use his pet name in place of his good name.
Ultimately, in reading The Namesake through a theological lens, I continued to think of Jesus Christ as the immigrant par excellence. Gogol had no one to relate to throughout the novel. Part of the distance was through his parents’ mistakes; they were not prepared to give him a good name, and instead used a family name in place of his proper name. Gogol’s name ostracized him from everyone. When Gogol legally changed his name to Nikhil, there was still a sense of ostracism. He could not connect to his “former” identity as Gogol; ironically, using a proper Bengali name seemed to further separate him from his family prior to Ashoke’s sudden death. As Nikhil, Gogol seemed to live a different life but could not connect to his parents, his status of living between worlds and cultures, but could not connect to American culture. In reading, I think of Jesus as the mestizo and as the "Immigrant par excellence, the Marginalized One living in the both-and and beyond situation" (Phan, 174). While The Namesake does not mention religion, there is something particularly Christ-like in the character of Gogol. Gogol wanders through his life with a mixed identity of being neither Indian nor American, or being too Indian or too American; Jesus walked this earth as truly human and truly divine. Gogol is the child of immigrants trying to find his identity in a land where he doesn’t fit; Jesus is the immigrant par excellence in a world where he perfectly fits and a world he does not fit at all.
Reading the book years later through the lens of a seminary student, I saw new things. I very much related this reading of The Namesake to Peter Phan’s idea of "betwixt and between" (Peter C. Phan, "The Dragon and the Eagle: Toward a Vietnamese-American Theology" in Realizing the America of Our Hearts: Theological Voices of Asian Americans, 164). Living between worlds is further highlighted with the unfortunate incident of Gogol receiving his given name at the hospital. Gogol’s name amplifies his inability to fit into the country of his birth, the United States of America, as well as the inability to fit into the country of his ancestry, India. Gogol, as a teenager and young adult, laments that his name is of an ill-fated Russian writer. He claims his name sounds peculiar, and is further embarrassed when he discovers that the writer Nikolai Gogol led a tortured and conflicted life. Part of the irony is that Gogol himself is in a sense tortured and conflicted. He cannot communicate with or understand his parents; his parents are from a different land and a different culture from which Gogol is so far removed. He blames his parents for much of his young adult life concerning the awkwardness of his name; it is only later that Gogol discovers that his name has incredible significance, as the name Gogol is related to Ashoke’s second chance at life, a resurrection of sorts, to create himself as something new and to travel to a new land.
A life of betwixt and between is also reflected in Ashoke and Ashima’s relationship with each other, and their life as husband and wife in the United States. Ashima has constant thoughts of wanting to return home to Calcutta. She carries around mementos of her family and former life in India; she reads and rereads letters from her family, Bengali magazines, and Bengali books. She longs for her family to help her raise her children. Ashima and Ashoke live a life in exile from their home country. Much of Ashima’s thoughts are lamentations, missing her home country and her family. She finds substitutions within the Indian and Bengali community in the United States, but Ashima reflects that these are but mere substitutes for a reality that she once knew. She laments that she does not feel a connection with or understand her American-born children. In this life led in exile, Ashoke and Ashima do not make outrageous attempts to assimilate to the culture. They do eventually have to give Gogol a legal name, they purchase a home in a suburb, Ashoke has a professorship at a university, and accommodations are made to make by Gogol’s and Sonia’s request, such as celebrating a secular form of Christmas, and inevitably having to give in to the wishes of a five-year old Gogol to use his pet name in place of his good name.
Ultimately, in reading The Namesake through a theological lens, I continued to think of Jesus Christ as the immigrant par excellence. Gogol had no one to relate to throughout the novel. Part of the distance was through his parents’ mistakes; they were not prepared to give him a good name, and instead used a family name in place of his proper name. Gogol’s name ostracized him from everyone. When Gogol legally changed his name to Nikhil, there was still a sense of ostracism. He could not connect to his “former” identity as Gogol; ironically, using a proper Bengali name seemed to further separate him from his family prior to Ashoke’s sudden death. As Nikhil, Gogol seemed to live a different life but could not connect to his parents, his status of living between worlds and cultures, but could not connect to American culture. In reading, I think of Jesus as the mestizo and as the "Immigrant par excellence, the Marginalized One living in the both-and and beyond situation" (Phan, 174). While The Namesake does not mention religion, there is something particularly Christ-like in the character of Gogol. Gogol wanders through his life with a mixed identity of being neither Indian nor American, or being too Indian or too American; Jesus walked this earth as truly human and truly divine. Gogol is the child of immigrants trying to find his identity in a land where he doesn’t fit; Jesus is the immigrant par excellence in a world where he perfectly fits and a world he does not fit at all.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Day Four, Asian Theological Summer Institute
What thoughts do I have as I am sitting on an airplane, flying back to the west coast? I am honored, humbled, and blessed for the opportunity to attend the Asian Theological Summer Institute. It was fascinating to sit in a room with new and established scholars listening to the future of theological research from Asians and Asian Americans. I'm excited for the church catholic, and while theological education has entered tough times, I am waiting in eager anticipation for the future of Asian and Asian American theological scholarship.
Identity was further played with today with Dr. Eleazar Fernandez's presentation. I'm still digesting what he presented, because it was pretty darned intense. It leads me to wonder about listening to multiple narratives in a greater story, and am I listening to other narratives? What narratives am I not hearing? Yet again, questions of identity pop up...
I had an interesting conversation with one of the mentors at the conference. He asked me about the purpose of my FTE project. I told him there were a few reasons why I came to build this project. Part of this project is an opportunity for me to network within my denomination. I haven't been Lutheran all that long, and I'm still wandering about trying to find relationships with denominational leadership, particularly Asian and Asian American leadership. While I know people in northern and southern California, I want to know educators, pastors, and lay leaders. I want to know their narratives in the greater ELCA narrative.
One of my more formative classes in Spring 2011 was a systematics class in Asian American Theologies taught by Dr. Joanne Doi. In that class, I acquired a vocabulary that was more appropriate to my social location. I had read different types of liberation theology, reading books by Justo Gonzales, Gustavo Gutiérrez, James Cone, and Delores Williams, but there was something about their vocabularies that didn't quite fit my situation. There was a resonance, but at the same time, there was not a complete comprehension. It was somewhat of a disjointed connection. In Dr. Doi's class, I questioned one of the readings with a heavy reliance on Black Liberation Theology; while there were some common threads with talking about an experience, they were very different lived experiences. Dr. Doi mentioned that there is a need to look to others to start building a vocabulary, pushing and pulling with words for a comparative experience, but not the *same* experience. Then yesterday's conversation with Lucia started to hit home as well: we need to learn the voices of others to better understand our own voice. The sense of borrowing was also brought up today, which reminded me of using the words of Black Liberation Theology in my Asian American Theologies class. And of course, when it comes to borrowing, who really owns knowledge?
Part of this project is also learning about my own identity. In speaking with Dr. Rajashekar, I didn't really think about my identity in the United States until joining a church. I never thought about my sense of being until being in a greater church population. But when I joined the church, I received some odd comments that made me think about the appearance of my person. I didn't question my relationship with God in Christ, but I did start to question my relationships within a church community. I also noticed the physical appearance of my person when my husband and I visited India. It was odd realizing that I married a Caucasian man three years after our marraige.
I was wondering about what the ELCA calls "Multicultural Ministries" and how it worked. I thought of the Office of Multicultural Ministries as a nebulous cloud somewhere in the distant land of Chicago. The FTE project gave me an impetus to contact the office to make connections with the staff, but also to see what was actually going on in this ministry.
My time at ATSI was so valuable. I now have a better idea of interview questions I plan to ask my subjects in the coming weeks. While this is a formation experience for me, it's also a chance for me to interact with new people in the ELCA, talk about "Multicultural Ministries," and see four out of the eight ELCA seminaries.
This post is more like a stream of consciousness. I have pages upon pages of notes from ATSI that I need to sort through, look more in depth at the comments and questions I had concerning common threads I experienced. I need to sit and think about what I've heard and what I've experienced. I also need to continue through my personal discernment process, especially concerning theological education.
I wish all of the doctoral students blessings as they enter the writing process and look forward to hearing about their work. I also want to thank the ATSI mentors for their words of wisdom and their encouragement. It was wonderful to meet the people behind the essays and books I've read.
Identity was further played with today with Dr. Eleazar Fernandez's presentation. I'm still digesting what he presented, because it was pretty darned intense. It leads me to wonder about listening to multiple narratives in a greater story, and am I listening to other narratives? What narratives am I not hearing? Yet again, questions of identity pop up...
I had an interesting conversation with one of the mentors at the conference. He asked me about the purpose of my FTE project. I told him there were a few reasons why I came to build this project. Part of this project is an opportunity for me to network within my denomination. I haven't been Lutheran all that long, and I'm still wandering about trying to find relationships with denominational leadership, particularly Asian and Asian American leadership. While I know people in northern and southern California, I want to know educators, pastors, and lay leaders. I want to know their narratives in the greater ELCA narrative.
One of my more formative classes in Spring 2011 was a systematics class in Asian American Theologies taught by Dr. Joanne Doi. In that class, I acquired a vocabulary that was more appropriate to my social location. I had read different types of liberation theology, reading books by Justo Gonzales, Gustavo Gutiérrez, James Cone, and Delores Williams, but there was something about their vocabularies that didn't quite fit my situation. There was a resonance, but at the same time, there was not a complete comprehension. It was somewhat of a disjointed connection. In Dr. Doi's class, I questioned one of the readings with a heavy reliance on Black Liberation Theology; while there were some common threads with talking about an experience, they were very different lived experiences. Dr. Doi mentioned that there is a need to look to others to start building a vocabulary, pushing and pulling with words for a comparative experience, but not the *same* experience. Then yesterday's conversation with Lucia started to hit home as well: we need to learn the voices of others to better understand our own voice. The sense of borrowing was also brought up today, which reminded me of using the words of Black Liberation Theology in my Asian American Theologies class. And of course, when it comes to borrowing, who really owns knowledge?
Part of this project is also learning about my own identity. In speaking with Dr. Rajashekar, I didn't really think about my identity in the United States until joining a church. I never thought about my sense of being until being in a greater church population. But when I joined the church, I received some odd comments that made me think about the appearance of my person. I didn't question my relationship with God in Christ, but I did start to question my relationships within a church community. I also noticed the physical appearance of my person when my husband and I visited India. It was odd realizing that I married a Caucasian man three years after our marraige.
I was wondering about what the ELCA calls "Multicultural Ministries" and how it worked. I thought of the Office of Multicultural Ministries as a nebulous cloud somewhere in the distant land of Chicago. The FTE project gave me an impetus to contact the office to make connections with the staff, but also to see what was actually going on in this ministry.
My time at ATSI was so valuable. I now have a better idea of interview questions I plan to ask my subjects in the coming weeks. While this is a formation experience for me, it's also a chance for me to interact with new people in the ELCA, talk about "Multicultural Ministries," and see four out of the eight ELCA seminaries.
This post is more like a stream of consciousness. I have pages upon pages of notes from ATSI that I need to sort through, look more in depth at the comments and questions I had concerning common threads I experienced. I need to sit and think about what I've heard and what I've experienced. I also need to continue through my personal discernment process, especially concerning theological education.
I wish all of the doctoral students blessings as they enter the writing process and look forward to hearing about their work. I also want to thank the ATSI mentors for their words of wisdom and their encouragement. It was wonderful to meet the people behind the essays and books I've read.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Day Three, Asian Theological Summer Institute
One of the books I brought with me was One With God: Salvation as Deification and Justification. While this is not my normal fare, I'm reading it for my class on Christology, Soteriology, and Pneumatology. One of the bigger arguments according to the author is that Lutheranism totally misunderstood Luther in justification and sanctification. Luther thought the two were united, while the latter Lutherans separated the two, as evidenced in The Book of Concord. This made me seriously wonder about something I was asked my first day at Pacific Lutheran Theological Seminary: "What is Lutheran identity?" I even went to the Lutheran Theological Seminary of Philadelphia's library during my lunch hour to reread Luther's "The Freedom of a Christian" to make sure that the author's argument (and that I myself) wasn't totally bonkers. I think Kärkkäinen (the author of One of God) has something vital to say to the present-day Lutheran tradition...
What did my professors mean by asking, "What is Lutheran identity?" Hasn't the denomination been around the United States for a few hundred years? Why is there yet again an obsession with identity? Yet again, in conversation with the faculty advisers of the Asian Theological Summer Institute, there is a similar obsession with Lutheran identity as there is with Asian American identity. There is a need for immigrant communities to know a sense of self in a different context. Part of the struggle with Lutheran identity is coming from a rich western European background; but how is that background then compared with the immigrant experience to a foreign land (in this case, the United States)? How does the Lutheran struggle with finding a sense of identity then relate to an Asian American sense of finding identity? Is there then potential for creativity in liminal spaces? Or are there going to be the concrete restrictions of borders of definition?
Speaking of definition concerning borders and restrictions, this then leads me to a presentation made today by Dr. Frank Yamada of McCormick Seminary. He spoke to pedagogy, and I was quite intrigued by his three questions in what he titles "The 'Culture' Exercise." I will leave you with the three questions of "The 'Culture' Exercise" and hope that you will take the time to think about these three questions:
1. What is your culture?
2. In what ways do you reflect and resist your culture?
3. How does your culture influence your reading of biblical text?
This led to interesting discussion. My discussion partner was Lucia, a Catholic sister who just successfully completed her PhD. She mentioned something insightful that I would like to leave with you. She stated that there is a need to learn about other voices in order to better understand our own voice. Somethings are starting to click, while somethings are becoming increasingly complicated.
What did my professors mean by asking, "What is Lutheran identity?" Hasn't the denomination been around the United States for a few hundred years? Why is there yet again an obsession with identity? Yet again, in conversation with the faculty advisers of the Asian Theological Summer Institute, there is a similar obsession with Lutheran identity as there is with Asian American identity. There is a need for immigrant communities to know a sense of self in a different context. Part of the struggle with Lutheran identity is coming from a rich western European background; but how is that background then compared with the immigrant experience to a foreign land (in this case, the United States)? How does the Lutheran struggle with finding a sense of identity then relate to an Asian American sense of finding identity? Is there then potential for creativity in liminal spaces? Or are there going to be the concrete restrictions of borders of definition?
Speaking of definition concerning borders and restrictions, this then leads me to a presentation made today by Dr. Frank Yamada of McCormick Seminary. He spoke to pedagogy, and I was quite intrigued by his three questions in what he titles "The 'Culture' Exercise." I will leave you with the three questions of "The 'Culture' Exercise" and hope that you will take the time to think about these three questions:
1. What is your culture?
2. In what ways do you reflect and resist your culture?
3. How does your culture influence your reading of biblical text?
This led to interesting discussion. My discussion partner was Lucia, a Catholic sister who just successfully completed her PhD. She mentioned something insightful that I would like to leave with you. She stated that there is a need to learn about other voices in order to better understand our own voice. Somethings are starting to click, while somethings are becoming increasingly complicated.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Day Two, Asian Theological Summer Institute
"Be still and know that I am God..."
I tend to forget this passage in Scripture. A lot. The students and professors of ATSI gathered early this morning for a devotion led by Dr. Kwok Pui-Lan. She had us sit still for five minutes. I forgot what it feels like to sit still for even a minute. She spoke of the "monkey mind" that wanders off, but she wanted us to be centered and focused on our breathing. And of course, my monkey mind wandered off to think about the papers I still have to write for my systematics class, but I remembered to come back, center, and breathe.
Today was pretty spectacular and thought-provoking. The morning started off with Dr. Jayakiran Sebastian's presentation on "The Baptism of Death: Reading, Rereading, and Resignifying a 19th Century Mission Document Today." It dealt with Christian missionaries coming to India with the intent to convert Brahmins, looking at the relationship between a Brahmin woman and her Christian convert husband. What is interesting about the convert's wife is that she had been erased from history; historical documentation acknowledges the convert's white, Christian wife, but history has removed the first Indian Hindu Brahmin wife. One of the big questions from Dr. Sebastian's presentation concerned unlearning present social power constructs to enter into dialogue with historical documents... and how identity has been constructed through text.
The rest of the day was filled with student proposal presentations, which was fascinating. One of the common themes I found with many (but not all) of the presentations related to a sense of identity. With much of today's doctoral proposal presentations pointing towards identity, I feel that I am on the right track in formulating my questions for my future interviews. While identity is an interesting subject, why is it so prevalent within an Asian and Asian American theological context? Why is there such a focus on identity? Why is this one of the prevalent threads appearing on the first day, from both established professors and doctoral students? In speaking with Dr. Kwok Pui-Lan, she made this fascination understandable. She stated that there is an American obsession with identity, particularly in a land populated by immigrants.
An obsession with identity. Yep, I'm there too. What is my story in the greater theological narrative? What is the story for Asian Americans within the greater narrative of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America? What happens when identity is placed upon a marginalized population? Why do those in power place such labels on the marginalized? Is the idea of belonging a sense of "be-longing" for Asian American Christians?
I tend to forget this passage in Scripture. A lot. The students and professors of ATSI gathered early this morning for a devotion led by Dr. Kwok Pui-Lan. She had us sit still for five minutes. I forgot what it feels like to sit still for even a minute. She spoke of the "monkey mind" that wanders off, but she wanted us to be centered and focused on our breathing. And of course, my monkey mind wandered off to think about the papers I still have to write for my systematics class, but I remembered to come back, center, and breathe.
Today was pretty spectacular and thought-provoking. The morning started off with Dr. Jayakiran Sebastian's presentation on "The Baptism of Death: Reading, Rereading, and Resignifying a 19th Century Mission Document Today." It dealt with Christian missionaries coming to India with the intent to convert Brahmins, looking at the relationship between a Brahmin woman and her Christian convert husband. What is interesting about the convert's wife is that she had been erased from history; historical documentation acknowledges the convert's white, Christian wife, but history has removed the first Indian Hindu Brahmin wife. One of the big questions from Dr. Sebastian's presentation concerned unlearning present social power constructs to enter into dialogue with historical documents... and how identity has been constructed through text.
The rest of the day was filled with student proposal presentations, which was fascinating. One of the common themes I found with many (but not all) of the presentations related to a sense of identity. With much of today's doctoral proposal presentations pointing towards identity, I feel that I am on the right track in formulating my questions for my future interviews. While identity is an interesting subject, why is it so prevalent within an Asian and Asian American theological context? Why is there such a focus on identity? Why is this one of the prevalent threads appearing on the first day, from both established professors and doctoral students? In speaking with Dr. Kwok Pui-Lan, she made this fascination understandable. She stated that there is an American obsession with identity, particularly in a land populated by immigrants.
An obsession with identity. Yep, I'm there too. What is my story in the greater theological narrative? What is the story for Asian Americans within the greater narrative of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America? What happens when identity is placed upon a marginalized population? Why do those in power place such labels on the marginalized? Is the idea of belonging a sense of "be-longing" for Asian American Christians?
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Day One, Asian Theological Summer Institute
"This Lutheran Life" is going to be on the road for the next few weeks. I am currently at the Asian Theological Summer Institute at Lutheran Theological Seminary Philadelphia. Let me first state that I still cannot believe that I am here. I spent the day with such incredible theologians, and getting to hear about the future of doctoral research for Asians and Asian American theologians is quite remarkable. I am not a participant, as I am not a PhD student, but I am allowed to be here as an observer. Why? I am formulating questions for the interviews I will conduct with Asian American pastors in the ELCA later in the summer. I want to ask about pastoral identity in a predominantly white denomination. I also want to ask if such a minority status impacts an interpretation of incarnational identity in any way. I also want to ask about the hopes for the ELCA's office of Multicultural Ministries. What works? What doesn't? What are the hopes of dreaming big, even if the denomination is leaner and streamlining due to current financial situations? I hope that hearing the research of Asians and Asian American doctoral students will help me hone my interview questions and give me further insight to the ELCA's Multicultural Ministries.
Today consisted primarily of introductions. The program director, Dr. Paul Rajashekar, has been an amazing host, particularly to someone attending the institute as an observer. Speaking to the future professors of theological education is also inspiring. It's both scary and exciting to see how the church will be shaped by the Spirit in the future. It's also so valuable to speak to current Asian and Asian American theologians currently working in the academy. It's amazing to find mentor scholars who have similar research interests, particularly when my interests have been limited by the demographics of my denomination.
Part of today's discussion was also talking about the cultural and colonial legacies that current Asian and Asian American scholars face today. Some academic advisors may not allow for studies in Asian American research because the advisor knows nothing about the field. Or the adivsor may think the field of Asian American theology isn't "mainstream" enough, and that research should be done on a well-established topic. As an Asian American in theology, there is difficulty in navigating the totality of identity. I cannot and do not want to change who I am, but part of who I am and how I am identified can be both a help and a hindrance, especially when that hindrance can be "tokenism."
Ultimately, what are my thoughts on this first day? I am thankful and so blessed for this opportunity. It's only day one, and I'm having such intriguing discussions concerning identity. I'm also so honored to observe this institute and to listen in on conversations concerning the future of Asian American theologies. I'm so thankful that I took Dr. Doi's Asian American Theologies class, because I'm meeting so many people; they are real flesh and blood, giving life and voice to the pages I read in a book. This is incarnational in a sense for me, the word becoming flesh. I'm meeting mentors and theologians that have impacted my early theological education.
Today consisted primarily of introductions. The program director, Dr. Paul Rajashekar, has been an amazing host, particularly to someone attending the institute as an observer. Speaking to the future professors of theological education is also inspiring. It's both scary and exciting to see how the church will be shaped by the Spirit in the future. It's also so valuable to speak to current Asian and Asian American theologians currently working in the academy. It's amazing to find mentor scholars who have similar research interests, particularly when my interests have been limited by the demographics of my denomination.
Part of today's discussion was also talking about the cultural and colonial legacies that current Asian and Asian American scholars face today. Some academic advisors may not allow for studies in Asian American research because the advisor knows nothing about the field. Or the adivsor may think the field of Asian American theology isn't "mainstream" enough, and that research should be done on a well-established topic. As an Asian American in theology, there is difficulty in navigating the totality of identity. I cannot and do not want to change who I am, but part of who I am and how I am identified can be both a help and a hindrance, especially when that hindrance can be "tokenism."
Ultimately, what are my thoughts on this first day? I am thankful and so blessed for this opportunity. It's only day one, and I'm having such intriguing discussions concerning identity. I'm also so honored to observe this institute and to listen in on conversations concerning the future of Asian American theologies. I'm so thankful that I took Dr. Doi's Asian American Theologies class, because I'm meeting so many people; they are real flesh and blood, giving life and voice to the pages I read in a book. This is incarnational in a sense for me, the word becoming flesh. I'm meeting mentors and theologians that have impacted my early theological education.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
A conversation with Mary and Martha.
Martha: I love my brother. My brother isn’t perfect, though. He picked on my sister and me when we were younger. He gave us a hard time, but in a way, I think he was preparing my sister and me for our adulthood. Life in Bethany is all right, but in reality, it’s not all that easy.
I’m sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself here. I should really introduce myself. My name is Martha. I live in the village of Bethany with my sister Mary and my brother Lazarus. I’m very close with my siblings. I love them so much I can’t even begin to tell you.
I love my brother and sister a lot. But something tragic happened to my brother, Lazarus. One day, he suddenly became ill. He was really, really sick. Mary and I cared for him as best we could, but he wasn’t getting better. All three of us were really scared. Our brother Lazarus, who picked on us in hopes we’d be strong adult women… our brother Lazarus, who protected us from the dangers of the world… our brother Lazarus, who loved us and cared for us… was dying. Because he was so, so sick, we didn’t know what to do. We tried all of the remedies we could think of, but nothing worked. We asked for elders to come see him and asked for their help. They couldn’t tell us what to do. We even sent word to my brother’s friend, Jesus; the message we sent was “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” We thought Jesus would know what to do; he’s been traveling throughout the land teaching, preaching, and healing. Surely, if our brother’s friend is healing strangers, he can come and heal our brother, or at least tell us what to do to care for him!
Mary: Well, my sister Martha and I got word back that our brother’s friend said that our brother’s not going to die. We heard he told his disciples, “This illness does not lead to death.” I believed my brother’s friend. I thought Lazarus was going to get better and be healthy again. I thought our brother would get better because his “friend,” Jesus, sure took his sweet time getting here. He didn’t come right away. My sister and I heard he was staying two days longer wherever he was. So my sister, brother, and I figured we didn’t have anything to worry about.
And then. my. brother. died. He died. He was so sick, and my sister and I thought he was going to get better. AND HE DIED. I was so angry, so upset. Jesus, who claimed to be my brother’s friend, who can heal a bunch of other people, let my brother die. How could he let this happen? This friend said my brother’s illness “is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” What? God’s glory? What does that mean when my brother is dead and my sister and I are preparing his body for burial in a tomb?
Martha: I’ll admit I was sad when Lazarus died. I didn’t feel the fury or anger my sister felt, but I was devastated with my brother being gone. I knew Jesus loved my brother, but I was comforted with knowing that Lazarus would rise again on the last day, but I didn’t know when the last day would be. I continued to love and miss my brother immediately following his death. I knew Lazarus would rise… someday. Just not soon. Mary and I cared for my brother when we prepared his body for burial. We carefully bound my brother in fabric strips. We needed help, though, carrying him to and placing him in the tomb. That was a difficult day. He was laying in the tomb, covered entirely by strips of fabric. His body was so still. And inside the tomb was so quiet, so dark, so still. I was so sad leaving Lazarus there, my brother who was full of life, was lying dead on a slab of rock. We found some men in Bethany to roll a large stone in front of the cave. Mary and I cried and cried when the stone was rolled, closing off the cave. We wept for our brother, the life he could have had if he got better. But Mary and I had to realize that once the stone was rolled over the front of the cave, we would never get Lazarus back. Our brother was gone to us until the last day, when he and all of us would rise in the resurrection of that last day.
Mary: But Jesus could have come to heal Lazarus. I kept thinking, “This didn’t have to happen.” I didn’t understand what Jesus meant by my brother’s illness being for the glory of God. I just knew that I was devastated when Lazarus died, and I was really upset with Jesus.
We heard that Jesus said that Lazarus fell asleep. FELL ASLEEP? Are you kidding me? I was there when Lazarus took his last breath! Taking your last breath and dying is not like falling asleep! Yeah, I know Jesus has been traveling around preaching, teaching, and healing, but wow, this was the biggest misdiagnosis ever! And he wasn’t even there to look at Lazarus to see what was wrong with him! I wanted Jesus to come as soon as he could to help my brother, but no, Jesus said that Lazarus was asleep and that this was for God’s glory. I didn’t see it.
Martha: I know that Mary was really affected with Lazarus’s death and Jesus not showing up in time. Mary and I were mourning my brother’s loss. And then I heard that Jesus was coming to Bethany. When he was at the edge of the village, I left my home. I ran to meet him. I wanted Mary to come with me, but she said she couldn’t. She was still upset that Jesus had done nothing for Lazarus. Mary did not want to see Jesus because she said it would hurt her too much. But I had to see Jesus. I had to talk with him. I was still mourning my brother’s death, but I had to meet my brother’s dear friend as soon as I could.
I met Jesus at the edge of the village. I was exhausted, because I ran straight from my house. I was out of breath, but I had to tell Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Yes I was upset with Lazarus dying. But I told Jesus, “But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.”
Jesus told me that Lazarus would rise again. Yes, I knew that Lazarus would rise again, on the last day. Lazarus would come back at the end time. But Lazarus was dead; resurrection would happen much, much later.
Jesus then said something amazing, as Jesus usually does. He said, “I am the resurrection and the life.” He said that all who believe in him and die will live, and everyone who lives and believes in him will never die. Will never die. Will never die. Mary had to hear this. Mary, who was so devastated when Lazarus died, needed to hear that all who believe in Jesus will live even if they die. Mary needed to hear this from Jesus. I ran back to the house to find Mary. I found her sitting on the floor, weeping. People were surrounding her, trying to comfort her. I went up to her and told her that Teacher was in the village. Jesus was there, and he wanted to speak with her. Mary was resistant.
Mary: You bet I was resistant. Jesus, who took his sweet time getting here, well after Lazarus died. Jesus, this preacher, teacher, and healer couldn’t come heal his own friend Lazarus. I wanted Jesus to see my tears. I got up off the floor and didn’t bother wiping off my face. I got up and ran away from the house, away from those trying to comfort me. I wasn’t at a place where I could be consoled. I cried for days straight. I couldn’t stop crying. I missed my brother so much, I felt like part of my soul had been ripped away, taken away from me, something I would never get back. So I ran. Maybe to run away from my pain. Maybe to tell Jesus what I thought.
When I saw Jesus, I stopped. Here was my brother’s friend who arrived too late. Too late to save my dear brother. I was exhausted when I saw Jesus. I was exhausted from running. I was exhausted from my grief. I was exhausted from my anger. I was so exhausted, I went up to him, knelt in front of him. I was at a loss for words. I had so much to tell Jesus, how he was wrong for not coming sooner. How he could have done something if he got here in time. How Lazarus could still be alive and with us, if Jesus got here when we sent that message. But the only thing that could come out of my mouth was, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” I could hear the words echo in my ears, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” My brother would not have died. And as I knelt at Jesus’s feet, I wept. I wept for Lazarus, and all of the incredible things his life could have been if Jesus got here in time. I wept for my sister and me, because I didn’t know what we were going to do without Lazarus. I wept because I was selfish, I wanted Jesus to heal my brother. Instead, I thought Jesus let my brother die.
Jesus was silent as I wept before him. Everyone around us cried. He looked disturbed. Maybe he was feeling grief for Lazarus’s death. Jesus then asked where we lard Lazarus. I was so emotional, crying and mourning, that I could not answer Jesus. The Jews who were with us, weeping with us took Jesus to the tomb. I got up off the ground to follow.
We all stopped in front of the cave where we left Lazarus. Jesus, the Jews with us, Martha, and me. We all stood and stared at that great rock which covered the entrance to the cave. It was so silent. I wanted to place my hand on the rock that covered the entrance to the cave to remember my brother, but I couldn’t. I just stared at the giant rock that separated me from my brother.
Then Jesus did something amazing. He wept. He began to cry. The Jews around Jesus noticed this. I heard someone say, “See how he loved him.” See how he loved him? If Jesus loved my brother, Jesus would have been here earlier. Jesus would have healed Lazarus. Someone else in the crowd said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man kept this man from dying?”
Jesus then went to the large stone covering the entrance of the cave. Jesus leaned up against the stone. Maybe he was trying to remember Lazarus, connect to Lazarus the way that I wanted to? But then Jesus asked for the stone to be rolled away. What??? Martha was really shocked, she told Jesus that Lazarus has been dead in the tomb for days, once the stone was moved, we would be overwhelmed with the smell of death. But then Jesus looked at Martha and said, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”
Glory of God? I wondered to myself, what does Jesus mean by this? It was because of the glory of God he said my brother was ill, then asleep. I wondered if Jesus knew what he was talking about… Some of the men of the village rolled the stone away. Jesus looked to the sky, spoke to his Father, and Jesus wanted us to believe His Father sent him to us. All fell silent. Suddenly, Jesus cried, “LAZARUS, COME OUT!” I didn’t understand what was going on. I had been mourning for days. I was consumed with grief and anger. I was devastated that Lazarus was gone. But Jesus cried, “LAZARUS, COME OUT!”
Lazarus was leaning up against the wall of the cave. The cloths that Martha and I used to bind him were not letting him walk out to us. I stood in shock. I mourned Lazarus, I was devastated by his death, but before me, coming out of the cave, was my brother, alive and breathing. I was in shock, I couldn’t think to move to unbind Lazarus. Jesus then asked for others to unbind Lazarus to set him free.
Set him free. Lazarus was set free. Not just from the strips of fabric that bound him, but Lazarus was freed from death. Jesus did come to heal Lazarus. It didn’t happen the way I wanted it to, I didn’t want Lazarus to die, but I believe. I believe in Jesus, who said, “I am the resurrection and the life.” I believe that from this whole experience, we are freed from death, but not on our own time, and not on our own terms. I know that now. we are freed from death by a loving God, but we are freed from death on God’s time and on God’s terms. My brother did rise again. I saw what Jesus did, and I believe.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Washed Anew
The pastor who married my husband and me celebrated his baptismal anniversary today. Pastor Chris is an incredible man, and a wonderful pastor. I am so blessed to have him as a brother in Christ. And I am forever grateful to Pastor Chris for what I consider to be my catechumenate. The story of his baptismal anniversary can be found here. Reading Pastor Chris' devotion took me back to May 6, 2007 at Salem Lutheran Church in Glendale, California, which is the date and location of my baptismal anniversary. I was honored when Pastor Kurt gave me the opportunity to preach for the 50th anniversary of the dedication of the church's sanctuary in July 2009. Following is the text from that sermon, a reminder of my baptismal story.
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I’d like to tell you two stories about strangers and aliens. The first story involves a 19-year-old woman. This 19-year-old woman is my mother, and the year is 1970. Disco was all the rage, and fashion was funky. My mom and my dad immigrated to the US in 1970. They were what you could call strangers and aliens. They left their families and all that was familiar to them. They carried $200 dollars in their pocket and had two suitcases. They lived in a not so great area of downtown Cleveland, Ohio. From what I’ve heard, Cleveland wasn’t really the happening place to be in the early 70s. I’m guessing downtown Cleveland wasn’t an easy place to live for a shy young woman who left her home country. My mom was not prepared for the harsh Cleveland winter. To someone from a warm climate, it was a cold you could feel in your bones and to your core. The trees, plants, and flowers were gone; Cleveland was covered in an icy brown slush. In her single suitcase, my mom carried beautiful saris that were among her wedding presents. Her saris represented her status as a married woman in India, but in Cleveland, her clothes were signs of her strangeness. Her saris were breathtaking, delicate fabrics with vivid colors and intricate stitching. The bright reds, blues, and greens were definitely noticeable against a bleak and gray landscape. A lot of her saris were works of art. Unfortunately, the fabric wasn’t thick and warming. My mom and dad had to spend what little money they had to buy clothes to keep my mom warm.
My mom and dad were strangers and aliens in a new land. I can only imagine how scared they both were, but my mom in particular. My mom is a quiet and shy woman. She learned English in India, but she didn’t get to practice speaking it. She was scared of saying something wrong in English, which would magnify her strangeness in the United States. My dad was fine; he spent so much of his childhood around English-speakers. He got to travel the wilds of India with British and American adventurists, easily talking with them in English. Even though my mom lived all over India, she stayed in her home country speaking her mother tongue. My mom came from a large and crazy family, and was close to her parents, her siblings, her cousins, her aunts and uncles. She was now a stranger and an alien in a new land.
My dad became a citizen of the US in 1975, but my mom kept her Indian citizenship. My mom watched people, their traits and customs. My mom observed my older brother and me. Not just in a motherly way, though, but in a way to learn from us. She was learning our actions, speech, and behaviors, so she could blend and not be a stranger and an alien.
My mom finally became a US citizen in 2007. She lived in this country as a stranger and as an alien for 37 years. We had a party to celebrate her new status. In a single day, she was no longer a stranger and an alien. At this party, there were friends there from my mom and dad’s days in Cleveland. Days that were challenging and filled with a lot of emotion. But they were there to celebrate with my mom. My mom even joked about how she didn’t grow up in India; she actually grew up in the US. This means my mom’s childhood started as a 19 year old.
Saint Paul dealt with a similar situation 2,000 years ago. In St. Paul’s time, being an alien was like being a resident alien in the US today. It refers to a person who lives somewhere that isn’t their homeland, and because of this status, this person doesn’t have full rights of citizenship. Paul preached to the Gentiles, who were considered to be aliens; they were considered strangers to Israel, as people who lived in the same location, but weren’t fully accepted. I’d like for everyone to take a moment to think about a situation. I want you to think about a situation where you may have been the stranger. Where you may have been the alien. Maybe you were the new kid in school. Or the new kid on the block. Maybe a new person at a job. But in those situations, were you apprehensive? Maybe even a little scared of the unknown? Or a little nervous because you didn’t know the people around you?
My second story starts when I was 19 years old. The same age my mom was when she came to the US. My sophomore year of college was just okay, but one day, something magical happened. My friend, Leigh, invited me to dinner. Really, it was a magical event, especially to a college student. There was home-cooked food, and lots of it! My friend invited me to a Wednesday night supper at her church. The student lounge was filled with people and with food. This was something new to me. Not just a Lutheran’s love for food and fellowship, but something else that felt new and unfamiliar. Dare I say I might have felt like a stranger and an alien? I was used to eating and worshipping with three people: my brother, my dad, and my mom. Worshipping and sharing with other people was strange and alien. But that invitation changed my life. She reached out to me, witnessed to me, and was a friend. I want you to know that Leigh is sitting in this church today. She flew in from South Carolina, and she’s here to hear my first sermon. I want everyone to know that a simple invitation to dinner was the start of an incredible journey. A journey that started 10 years ago in a Lutheran Church in South Carolina. A journey that will continue at a Lutheran Seminary in Berkeley.
That incredible journey reached its crescendo here. Right here, in this very sanctuary. When my husband, Karl, and I started attending Salem, we may have started as strangers and aliens, but that didn’t last for long. You wouldn’t let us be strangers and aliens. We started participating in the life of this church. We started worshipping with you on a regular basis in this sanctuary. But there was still a part of me that was strange and alien. I wasn’t baptized yet. In participating in Salem’s ministry, I didn’t want to be a stranger and an alien any more. I wanted to be a citizen with you in the kingdom.
The crescendo! It was amazing. It was scary. It was intimate. It was so intimate because I died. I drowned in a shallow basin. Using Martin Luther’s words, my drowning “signifies that the old self and the sinful birth of flesh and blood are to be wholly drowned by the grace of God.” In this drowning, I died in sin, before many of you. I wasn’t a stranger and an alien anymore. Through baptism, I became a member of a large and diverse family. I became a member of a great household.
A wonderful book called “Baptized, We Live” talks about what we gain from baptism. Much of that gain comes in relationships with God and with one another. The book states, “His yes (God’s yes) becomes our YES.” (7). Part of that YES is being incorporated into Christ and the church. Part of that YES is being adopted into God’s covenant people. And part of that YES is that everyone who is baptized is “ordained, set aside to be a minister” (7). Not just the seminary student, but children, confirmation students, church council members; everyone who is a member if this church is set aside to be a minister. And this sanctuary is filled with so many dedicated ministers.
This sanctuary is a wonderful place. Like at my mom’s citizenship party, she joked about how she didn’t grow up in India, but that she grew up at the age of 19 in the US. I’m experiencing a second childhood as well. Through the firm foundation in this house, and through the firm foundation of faith from my brothers and sisters in Christ, I’m growing
Fifty years ago today, seven passages were read from the Bible to celebrate the sanctuary’s dedication. These passages are beautiful descriptions of God’s house, and of those who live in God’s house. These passages describe the foundation of not just this beautiful building, but also a foundation of faith, and sharing that faith with others. The bulletin from fifty years ago had a note to preach and baptize the nations. Thank you for listening to your parents, and those in that congregation fifty years ago. Thank you for sharing your faith with someone who was once a stranger and an alien. Thank you for accepting a new sister in Christ, filled with grace and love from her church family. There is proof in these pews that Salem’s ministry is a success.
A stranger and an alien. Remember how I asked you if there was a time you were a stranger and an alien? About feeling nervous and uncomfortable? I want you to keep this in mind. I was a stranger and an alien, and through you, brothers and sisters in Christ, I’m now a member of a joyous family. As we celebrate the anniversary of the dedication of this sanctuary, I want to be brash and charge the people of Salem with a mission. The mission is this: reach out to our neighbors and make sure that they are welcome in this sanctuary. There may be a stranger and an alien in this house. Invite a friend to come with you to worship. They may feel like a stranger and an alien, but with a friend close by, the barriers that make people strangers and aliens are broken down. I want Salem to continue to welcome the stranger and the alien, remembering St. Paul’s words, “So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God.”
I am thankful for my friends and family that have guided me on this journey, but in particular, I have to thank Leigh. Leigh gave me the blessing of an invitation. She asked me if I wanted to have a meal with her. Now it’s my turn to invite her to a church meal.
----
I’d like to tell you two stories about strangers and aliens. The first story involves a 19-year-old woman. This 19-year-old woman is my mother, and the year is 1970. Disco was all the rage, and fashion was funky. My mom and my dad immigrated to the US in 1970. They were what you could call strangers and aliens. They left their families and all that was familiar to them. They carried $200 dollars in their pocket and had two suitcases. They lived in a not so great area of downtown Cleveland, Ohio. From what I’ve heard, Cleveland wasn’t really the happening place to be in the early 70s. I’m guessing downtown Cleveland wasn’t an easy place to live for a shy young woman who left her home country. My mom was not prepared for the harsh Cleveland winter. To someone from a warm climate, it was a cold you could feel in your bones and to your core. The trees, plants, and flowers were gone; Cleveland was covered in an icy brown slush. In her single suitcase, my mom carried beautiful saris that were among her wedding presents. Her saris represented her status as a married woman in India, but in Cleveland, her clothes were signs of her strangeness. Her saris were breathtaking, delicate fabrics with vivid colors and intricate stitching. The bright reds, blues, and greens were definitely noticeable against a bleak and gray landscape. A lot of her saris were works of art. Unfortunately, the fabric wasn’t thick and warming. My mom and dad had to spend what little money they had to buy clothes to keep my mom warm.
My mom and dad were strangers and aliens in a new land. I can only imagine how scared they both were, but my mom in particular. My mom is a quiet and shy woman. She learned English in India, but she didn’t get to practice speaking it. She was scared of saying something wrong in English, which would magnify her strangeness in the United States. My dad was fine; he spent so much of his childhood around English-speakers. He got to travel the wilds of India with British and American adventurists, easily talking with them in English. Even though my mom lived all over India, she stayed in her home country speaking her mother tongue. My mom came from a large and crazy family, and was close to her parents, her siblings, her cousins, her aunts and uncles. She was now a stranger and an alien in a new land.
My dad became a citizen of the US in 1975, but my mom kept her Indian citizenship. My mom watched people, their traits and customs. My mom observed my older brother and me. Not just in a motherly way, though, but in a way to learn from us. She was learning our actions, speech, and behaviors, so she could blend and not be a stranger and an alien.
My mom finally became a US citizen in 2007. She lived in this country as a stranger and as an alien for 37 years. We had a party to celebrate her new status. In a single day, she was no longer a stranger and an alien. At this party, there were friends there from my mom and dad’s days in Cleveland. Days that were challenging and filled with a lot of emotion. But they were there to celebrate with my mom. My mom even joked about how she didn’t grow up in India; she actually grew up in the US. This means my mom’s childhood started as a 19 year old.
Saint Paul dealt with a similar situation 2,000 years ago. In St. Paul’s time, being an alien was like being a resident alien in the US today. It refers to a person who lives somewhere that isn’t their homeland, and because of this status, this person doesn’t have full rights of citizenship. Paul preached to the Gentiles, who were considered to be aliens; they were considered strangers to Israel, as people who lived in the same location, but weren’t fully accepted. I’d like for everyone to take a moment to think about a situation. I want you to think about a situation where you may have been the stranger. Where you may have been the alien. Maybe you were the new kid in school. Or the new kid on the block. Maybe a new person at a job. But in those situations, were you apprehensive? Maybe even a little scared of the unknown? Or a little nervous because you didn’t know the people around you?
My second story starts when I was 19 years old. The same age my mom was when she came to the US. My sophomore year of college was just okay, but one day, something magical happened. My friend, Leigh, invited me to dinner. Really, it was a magical event, especially to a college student. There was home-cooked food, and lots of it! My friend invited me to a Wednesday night supper at her church. The student lounge was filled with people and with food. This was something new to me. Not just a Lutheran’s love for food and fellowship, but something else that felt new and unfamiliar. Dare I say I might have felt like a stranger and an alien? I was used to eating and worshipping with three people: my brother, my dad, and my mom. Worshipping and sharing with other people was strange and alien. But that invitation changed my life. She reached out to me, witnessed to me, and was a friend. I want you to know that Leigh is sitting in this church today. She flew in from South Carolina, and she’s here to hear my first sermon. I want everyone to know that a simple invitation to dinner was the start of an incredible journey. A journey that started 10 years ago in a Lutheran Church in South Carolina. A journey that will continue at a Lutheran Seminary in Berkeley.
That incredible journey reached its crescendo here. Right here, in this very sanctuary. When my husband, Karl, and I started attending Salem, we may have started as strangers and aliens, but that didn’t last for long. You wouldn’t let us be strangers and aliens. We started participating in the life of this church. We started worshipping with you on a regular basis in this sanctuary. But there was still a part of me that was strange and alien. I wasn’t baptized yet. In participating in Salem’s ministry, I didn’t want to be a stranger and an alien any more. I wanted to be a citizen with you in the kingdom.
The crescendo! It was amazing. It was scary. It was intimate. It was so intimate because I died. I drowned in a shallow basin. Using Martin Luther’s words, my drowning “signifies that the old self and the sinful birth of flesh and blood are to be wholly drowned by the grace of God.” In this drowning, I died in sin, before many of you. I wasn’t a stranger and an alien anymore. Through baptism, I became a member of a large and diverse family. I became a member of a great household.
A wonderful book called “Baptized, We Live” talks about what we gain from baptism. Much of that gain comes in relationships with God and with one another. The book states, “His yes (God’s yes) becomes our YES.” (7). Part of that YES is being incorporated into Christ and the church. Part of that YES is being adopted into God’s covenant people. And part of that YES is that everyone who is baptized is “ordained, set aside to be a minister” (7). Not just the seminary student, but children, confirmation students, church council members; everyone who is a member if this church is set aside to be a minister. And this sanctuary is filled with so many dedicated ministers.
This sanctuary is a wonderful place. Like at my mom’s citizenship party, she joked about how she didn’t grow up in India, but that she grew up at the age of 19 in the US. I’m experiencing a second childhood as well. Through the firm foundation in this house, and through the firm foundation of faith from my brothers and sisters in Christ, I’m growing
Fifty years ago today, seven passages were read from the Bible to celebrate the sanctuary’s dedication. These passages are beautiful descriptions of God’s house, and of those who live in God’s house. These passages describe the foundation of not just this beautiful building, but also a foundation of faith, and sharing that faith with others. The bulletin from fifty years ago had a note to preach and baptize the nations. Thank you for listening to your parents, and those in that congregation fifty years ago. Thank you for sharing your faith with someone who was once a stranger and an alien. Thank you for accepting a new sister in Christ, filled with grace and love from her church family. There is proof in these pews that Salem’s ministry is a success.
A stranger and an alien. Remember how I asked you if there was a time you were a stranger and an alien? About feeling nervous and uncomfortable? I want you to keep this in mind. I was a stranger and an alien, and through you, brothers and sisters in Christ, I’m now a member of a joyous family. As we celebrate the anniversary of the dedication of this sanctuary, I want to be brash and charge the people of Salem with a mission. The mission is this: reach out to our neighbors and make sure that they are welcome in this sanctuary. There may be a stranger and an alien in this house. Invite a friend to come with you to worship. They may feel like a stranger and an alien, but with a friend close by, the barriers that make people strangers and aliens are broken down. I want Salem to continue to welcome the stranger and the alien, remembering St. Paul’s words, “So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God.”
I am thankful for my friends and family that have guided me on this journey, but in particular, I have to thank Leigh. Leigh gave me the blessing of an invitation. She asked me if I wanted to have a meal with her. Now it’s my turn to invite her to a church meal.
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