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 learning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label learning. 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, 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 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.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
365 Days of Grace
I'm still learning a lot about being Lutheran. In my initial interview with a committee member, I was asked if I would want to get rid of my Hindu upbringing. I was overly defensive in my response. I could never forget or get rid of my Hindu upbringing. It's helped shape who I am, and it's an emotional tie I have to my family. I may have come off as a bit rabid, but I'm still adjusting to talking about something that's always been an abstract subject for me.
Part of the Lutheran education deals with grace. I hear a lot of words and phrases thrown around, like "justification by faith," and "law versus gospel," and "gospel sets us free." Phrases are nice and everything, but I'm trying to figure out what this means.
In my interviews, I've admitted that I'm naive when it comes to doctrine. I'm still learning. I'm still discerning. I'm still trying to run away from this "calling" that I cannot seem to shake.
I am embracing grace this year, through baby steps. A friend posted something on his blog, "Grace in Small Things." I will list (hopefully daily) five things that have graced my life. These things may have such a gravity words may not do justice, while others can be found in simple pleasures. Here's my first attempt...
1. Splitting a chocolate bar with my husband
2. Finishing my book review without my computer crashing
3. Laughing and talking with my brother
4. Walking to the grocery store on a beautiful day
5. Cleaning my laptop and textbooks off the dining table so my husband and I can actually dine on the table.
Part of the Lutheran education deals with grace. I hear a lot of words and phrases thrown around, like "justification by faith," and "law versus gospel," and "gospel sets us free." Phrases are nice and everything, but I'm trying to figure out what this means.
In my interviews, I've admitted that I'm naive when it comes to doctrine. I'm still learning. I'm still discerning. I'm still trying to run away from this "calling" that I cannot seem to shake.
I am embracing grace this year, through baby steps. A friend posted something on his blog, "Grace in Small Things." I will list (hopefully daily) five things that have graced my life. These things may have such a gravity words may not do justice, while others can be found in simple pleasures. Here's my first attempt...
1. Splitting a chocolate bar with my husband
2. Finishing my book review without my computer crashing
3. Laughing and talking with my brother
4. Walking to the grocery store on a beautiful day
5. Cleaning my laptop and textbooks off the dining table so my husband and I can actually dine on the table.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Back again.
I've been so horrible about updating this thing. I had these wonderful intentions to update people throughout the spring quarter on what I was learning and feeling. It's now the first week of October. The spring quarter was definitely an experience. The summer held needed rest, and to discern if seminary was really the right thing for me. I desperately wanted to be Jonah, hop on the ships of Tarsus and sail away from my responsibility. The same week I was having thoughts running away from my responsibilities, the pastor at my church gave a sermon. On Jonah. And the whale. Well if that's not a bullhorn, I don't know what is.
So I find myself back at Fuller, but conflicted. Part of this walk has been lonely. I feel like there's a bit more than a God-shaped hole in my heart. I'm taking the chance to open myself up, trying to get to know more people, making myself a bit more vulnerable. I just didn't realize how scary it would be. The comfort I do find is the support of my family and friends. And God, even if I'm a terrible Biblical Greek student.
So I find myself back at Fuller, but conflicted. Part of this walk has been lonely. I feel like there's a bit more than a God-shaped hole in my heart. I'm taking the chance to open myself up, trying to get to know more people, making myself a bit more vulnerable. I just didn't realize how scary it would be. The comfort I do find is the support of my family and friends. And God, even if I'm a terrible Biblical Greek student.
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