Here's something a tad different. My internship site places the audio from sermons online, which means that the sermons I've preached are all online. Ack. The last sermon I preached was not on the Gospel text (which starts the audio file), but instead what I found to be a daunting text: 1 Corinthians 6:12-20.
And here you go: http://www.stpaul-lutheran.com/sermons/20120115.mp3
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Mary, Mary, quite contrary, the Lord hath need of thee...
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.
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 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.
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.
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 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, September 11, 2009
Old and New.
I've completed almost all of my classes this first week at PLTS. I'll admit, it felt (and still kind of feels) terrifying, but I'm also excited at the same time. I did appreciate my time studying at Fuller, but something was sort of off for three of the four quarters I was there. One of the biggest difficulties I had was being Lutheran. Don't get me wrong though, I do love being Lutheran, but it was actually kind of hard to be Lutheran at Fuller. In addition, I was (and still am) a new Lutheran, so I would ask off the wall and really naïve questions. My personal favorite was when I asked, "But aren't we all Christian?" during a philosophy study group. I can still hear the silence in my head... I talked a lot to one of the TAs my first quarter at Fuller, and he suggested I write a column for the school paper titled "The Lonely Lutheran." We came up with some funny article ideas, which I really wish I wrote down.
My last quarter at Fuller, things started to click. I had a regular group of friends I hung out with, and people I loved conversing and debating with. I also had friends that provided a safe space at Fuller, when I needed to verbalize why I was making such shifts in my life, and questioning if I was doing the right thing. I was really sad to leave my friends and those safe spaces.
Which brings me to PLTS. Wow, this is a crazy small community. The entering class is less than thirty students, so we've all had the chance to get to know one another. The second through fourth year students have been amazing guides in these first weeks of exploring campus and the surrounding areas. I've loved the opportunities for fellowship, prayer, conversation, and eating brownies and ice cream after Greek.
The seminary sits at the top of a hill, and the view cannot be described in words. I'm amazed with the view of the San Francisco Bay, San Francisco, the Bay Bridge, the Golden Gate Bridge, and the hills south of San Francisco. It is absolutely breathtaking. The view never gets old. I hope it never will.
My last quarter at Fuller, things started to click. I had a regular group of friends I hung out with, and people I loved conversing and debating with. I also had friends that provided a safe space at Fuller, when I needed to verbalize why I was making such shifts in my life, and questioning if I was doing the right thing. I was really sad to leave my friends and those safe spaces.
Which brings me to PLTS. Wow, this is a crazy small community. The entering class is less than thirty students, so we've all had the chance to get to know one another. The second through fourth year students have been amazing guides in these first weeks of exploring campus and the surrounding areas. I've loved the opportunities for fellowship, prayer, conversation, and eating brownies and ice cream after Greek.
The seminary sits at the top of a hill, and the view cannot be described in words. I'm amazed with the view of the San Francisco Bay, San Francisco, the Bay Bridge, the Golden Gate Bridge, and the hills south of San Francisco. It is absolutely breathtaking. The view never gets old. I hope it never will.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
The Rhythm is gonna get ya
The husband and I had a very comfortable rhythm while we were living in Glendale. We normally woke up together, sat on the sofa, drank a cup of coffee and talked about the plans we had for that day. We would go our separate ways, the husband to the office and I would go to school. We would meet up again around 6:30PM, have dinner together, then have an open evening.
One of the hardest yet most exciting things about relocating is trying to find a new sense of rhythm. I probably won't find mine until I start school. In the meantime, I've been unpacking the house, and I have been grateful for this time. It's been interesting seeing how our old lives will transform into new lives in a new place. While there are still boxes around the new place, it's not as overwhelming as it was the day the movers showed up will all of our stuff. Each day, more and more of the boxes are being unpacked and collapsed. The contents of those boxes are finding new places to live. One of the more exciting unpacking adventures involved wedding china, crystal, and flatware. The husband and I have been married for five years, yet our full wedding china set never left the gift boxes. Trying to piece together what pieces we had was kind of fun. We placed the china, crystal, and flatware into a lovely built-in china cabinet in our kitchen. We plan to break in the fine china with pizza from Amici's; hopefully the same Amici's where we had dinner for our first wedding anniversary.
The adventure continues.
One of the hardest yet most exciting things about relocating is trying to find a new sense of rhythm. I probably won't find mine until I start school. In the meantime, I've been unpacking the house, and I have been grateful for this time. It's been interesting seeing how our old lives will transform into new lives in a new place. While there are still boxes around the new place, it's not as overwhelming as it was the day the movers showed up will all of our stuff. Each day, more and more of the boxes are being unpacked and collapsed. The contents of those boxes are finding new places to live. One of the more exciting unpacking adventures involved wedding china, crystal, and flatware. The husband and I have been married for five years, yet our full wedding china set never left the gift boxes. Trying to piece together what pieces we had was kind of fun. We placed the china, crystal, and flatware into a lovely built-in china cabinet in our kitchen. We plan to break in the fine china with pizza from Amici's; hopefully the same Amici's where we had dinner for our first wedding anniversary.
The adventure continues.
Friday, June 12, 2009
A wonderful Friday
1. Leisure reading. I started and finished The Plain Janes, which was a fun and simple read. It's from a publisher called Minx, who produces graphic novels specifically for teenage girls. Janes had an overall positive message, which makes me wonder what Minx will publish next?
2. Meeting Joyce for lunch. What used to be a weekly tradition seems to have turned into a monthly tradition, but a tradition nonetheless.
3. Visiting The Life Giving Spring Orthodox Bookstore, which was such an interesting experience. I wish I knew about this bookstore while I was in my Early Church History class. It was amazing to look at all of the icons on the walls. In my discussions with Amanda, we talked a lot about Mary Magdalene and her differing histories between the eastern and western churches, especially the her eastern interpretation as the "equal of the Apostles." I spoke with the owner of the bookstore, Anastasia, who has her MDiv degree, but since she is Greek Orthodox, cannot be ordained. It was wonderful to talk with Anastasia about the differing ideas of east and west. I hope to hang an icon of the equal of the Apostles on my wall soon.
4. New running shoes. My knees have been wonky as my old running shoes are getting old. I've stuck with the same brand for the past few years (Ariel, made by Brooks), but in test running shoes (yes, the store lets people test run shoes), I ended up with a pair from Saucony. I hope these shoes and I can become good friends.
5. Getting to say my goodbyes to Clay and Aphuno. Clay is so wonderful. He's giving me a crash course in homiletics in preparation for July 12th.
2. Meeting Joyce for lunch. What used to be a weekly tradition seems to have turned into a monthly tradition, but a tradition nonetheless.
3. Visiting The Life Giving Spring Orthodox Bookstore, which was such an interesting experience. I wish I knew about this bookstore while I was in my Early Church History class. It was amazing to look at all of the icons on the walls. In my discussions with Amanda, we talked a lot about Mary Magdalene and her differing histories between the eastern and western churches, especially the her eastern interpretation as the "equal of the Apostles." I spoke with the owner of the bookstore, Anastasia, who has her MDiv degree, but since she is Greek Orthodox, cannot be ordained. It was wonderful to talk with Anastasia about the differing ideas of east and west. I hope to hang an icon of the equal of the Apostles on my wall soon.
4. New running shoes. My knees have been wonky as my old running shoes are getting old. I've stuck with the same brand for the past few years (Ariel, made by Brooks), but in test running shoes (yes, the store lets people test run shoes), I ended up with a pair from Saucony. I hope these shoes and I can become good friends.
5. Getting to say my goodbyes to Clay and Aphuno. Clay is so wonderful. He's giving me a crash course in homiletics in preparation for July 12th.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
"The one you love is sick"
"My mother is gone."
My mom cried those words into the phone three years ago when her beloved mother, my sweet grandmother, passed away. It was especially hard for my mom, because she couldn't return to India in time for the cremation ceremony. I remember my brother and I both took a day off from work to talk about our Nani. Both my brother and I didn't want to interact with the outside world that day;that day was reserved just for us to mourn. My brother and I returned to work and our regular lives. One of my coworkers tried to offer comforting words, but I remember feeling incredibly upset. He said something along the lines of, "Well, she was old, right? She led a good long life. Her death may have been for the best." I was upset when he mentioned that her death may have been for the best. At that point in my life, I didn't understand. I could not comprehend how death could be for the better.
Fast forward to this morning. My husband and I are sitting on the couch, drinking our morning coffee. We just got off the phone with his mom and dad, talking about sweet gumballs, yard work, the stock market, and life insurance for young adults. We hung up the phone, only to have it immediately ring again. My husband's mom was on the line, crying. While we were chatting on the phone, my father-in-law's cell phone rang. It was the senior home where his mother, my husband's grandmother, lives. My mother-in-law told us that it was bad news, and that she and my father-in-law are on their way to the senior home. We were left with this information, and the knowledge that my husband's grandmother has pneumonia.
My husband's grandmother is a remarkable woman. She's 101 and incredibly feisty. She's strong-willed and also very funny. My husband's family jokes about her being the Energizer Bunny as she keeps going and going and going. Another comparison was a Timex watch, as "She takes a lickin and keeps on tickin."
My husband started to cry. This is his grandmother, who he has fond memories of visiting in Frankenmouth, drinking Verner's ginger ale. This is his grandmother who made meringue cookies every Christmas. As I'm holding my husband, he cries on my shoulder. There are no words to say that can comfort him. I cannot and will not tell him, "Oh, she's 101. She led a good, long, happy life." I cannot and will not tell him, "Well, it's her time to go." The only words I can say are, "This blows." Because it does.
In a new understanding, all I can really think about is "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die." My husband and I are sitting by the phone, not knowing of what is happening with his grandmother. We do not know if she is still with us in her physical body. But I do know that the Lord is with her, as He is with my husband's entire family as they await for news. I also know that the Lord is the resurrection and the life.
My mom cried those words into the phone three years ago when her beloved mother, my sweet grandmother, passed away. It was especially hard for my mom, because she couldn't return to India in time for the cremation ceremony. I remember my brother and I both took a day off from work to talk about our Nani. Both my brother and I didn't want to interact with the outside world that day;that day was reserved just for us to mourn. My brother and I returned to work and our regular lives. One of my coworkers tried to offer comforting words, but I remember feeling incredibly upset. He said something along the lines of, "Well, she was old, right? She led a good long life. Her death may have been for the best." I was upset when he mentioned that her death may have been for the best. At that point in my life, I didn't understand. I could not comprehend how death could be for the better.
Fast forward to this morning. My husband and I are sitting on the couch, drinking our morning coffee. We just got off the phone with his mom and dad, talking about sweet gumballs, yard work, the stock market, and life insurance for young adults. We hung up the phone, only to have it immediately ring again. My husband's mom was on the line, crying. While we were chatting on the phone, my father-in-law's cell phone rang. It was the senior home where his mother, my husband's grandmother, lives. My mother-in-law told us that it was bad news, and that she and my father-in-law are on their way to the senior home. We were left with this information, and the knowledge that my husband's grandmother has pneumonia.
My husband's grandmother is a remarkable woman. She's 101 and incredibly feisty. She's strong-willed and also very funny. My husband's family jokes about her being the Energizer Bunny as she keeps going and going and going. Another comparison was a Timex watch, as "She takes a lickin and keeps on tickin."
My husband started to cry. This is his grandmother, who he has fond memories of visiting in Frankenmouth, drinking Verner's ginger ale. This is his grandmother who made meringue cookies every Christmas. As I'm holding my husband, he cries on my shoulder. There are no words to say that can comfort him. I cannot and will not tell him, "Oh, she's 101. She led a good, long, happy life." I cannot and will not tell him, "Well, it's her time to go." The only words I can say are, "This blows." Because it does.
In a new understanding, all I can really think about is "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die." My husband and I are sitting by the phone, not knowing of what is happening with his grandmother. We do not know if she is still with us in her physical body. But I do know that the Lord is with her, as He is with my husband's entire family as they await for news. I also know that the Lord is the resurrection and the life.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
"You hate people, yet you love gatherings"
In my small grace items, I mentioned that God finds a way to converse with me when I really need guidance. Especially when I am a theological dumb butt. And when I think my heart has been hardened and I can't sense what I'm supposed to do with my life. I may sound "Joan of Arc crazy," but I promise, I haven't heard voices in my head. Yet. And I really do love Jeanne d'Arc.
I've been having a rough time in seminary for a few reasons. I cannot gloss it over as a perfect, wonderful, amazing, blissful experience. I find myself in weird stages of doubt. Am I a devout doubter? I've found myself stressed and frustrated, wondering if I'm nuts for being a seminary student. I've been especially lonely, as my mentors are scattered across the country. My doubt clouded my judgment this morning as I was struggling with the idea of going to church. I went through the motions. Confession. Forgiveness of sins. Sharing of the peace. But it was the hymn of the day that could only be equated to God conversing with me:
"Sometimes I feel discouraged and think my work’s in vain,
But then the Holy Spirit revives my soul again.
There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole;
There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin sick soul.
I've been having a rough time in seminary for a few reasons. I cannot gloss it over as a perfect, wonderful, amazing, blissful experience. I find myself in weird stages of doubt. Am I a devout doubter? I've found myself stressed and frustrated, wondering if I'm nuts for being a seminary student. I've been especially lonely, as my mentors are scattered across the country. My doubt clouded my judgment this morning as I was struggling with the idea of going to church. I went through the motions. Confession. Forgiveness of sins. Sharing of the peace. But it was the hymn of the day that could only be equated to God conversing with me:
"Sometimes I feel discouraged and think my work’s in vain,
But then the Holy Spirit revives my soul again.
There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole;
There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin sick soul.
If you cannot preach like Peter, if you cannot pray like Paul,
You can tell the love of Jesus and say, "He died for all."
There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole;
There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin sick soul.
Don’t ever feel discouraged, for Jesus is your friend;
And if you lack for knowledge, He’ll never refuse to lend.
There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole;
There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin sick soul."
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