I leave tomorrow morning for the second leg of my travels. I will first go to Chicago, the location of the main offices for the ELCA. My time in Chicago will be incredibly busy, but I'm also looking forward to it. My first interview is with the head of Global Missions for the ELCA. She is a lay leader within the denomination, and I'll be asking her about lay leadership, and hopes and expectations for diversifying the denomination.
My second interview will be with the head of Asian American Pacific Islander ministry within the Office of Multicultural Ministries. From this second interview, I will then participate in a roundtable discussion with seven other Asian American leaders within the denomination. I hope that we'll talk about hopes and expectations for Multicultural Ministries, especially with budget cuts impacting the ELCA.
I will then travel to Minneapolis/ St. Paul, Minnesota, where I will speak to an ordained Asian American pastor. Why Minnesota? Honestly, why not? One of the reasons for selecting Minnesota is its historical ties with Lutheranism, as well as being the home for Luther Seminary, the largest ELCA seminary. Part of my visit to the Twin Cities is to see contextual education at the largest ELCA seminary and how they're training future church leaders in "multicultural ministry."
After Minneapolis/ St. Paul, I'm then headed to Los Angeles, which is the location of my home congregation and home synod. I'll be meeting with the head of Asian American Pacific Islander ministry for the Pacifica Synod. I'm also hoping to attend a bilingual church service in Arcadia (English and Chinese).
After returning home from ATSI in Philly, I've worked on simple, open-ended questions. Here they are, in no particular order. They'll be ordered by the time I make it to Chicago...
1. Who have been your role models/ mentors?
2. Can you tell me about yourself, your ministry experience, and your call process?
3. What are your hopes and expectations for Multicultural Ministries?
4. Dreaming big and without limitations, what would Multicultural Ministries do to diversify the church?
5. Define your personal sense of pastoral identity (for ordained ministers)?
6. Define your personal sense of Incarnational identity (for ordained ministers)?
7. What do you think should be the primary focus of Multicultural Ministries, particularly in light of recent ELCA budget cuts?
8. How do you define Lutheran identity in your personal context?
For those of you perusing the blog, how would you answer these questions? Feel free to leave your answers in the comments!
Monday, June 20, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
A response to The Namesake for my Asian American Theologies class
The first time I read The Namesake, I finally felt like someone understood my story as living between worlds, or not quite fitting into worlds at all. I spent much of my life wandering around thinking that there wasn’t anyone that really shared in my story. When I read the book, I felt like a light switch went off in my life. Here was an author who somehow knew my story and turned it into a bestselling novel.
Reading the book years later through the lens of a seminary student, I saw new things. I very much related this reading of The Namesake to Peter Phan’s idea of "betwixt and between" (Peter C. Phan, "The Dragon and the Eagle: Toward a Vietnamese-American Theology" in Realizing the America of Our Hearts: Theological Voices of Asian Americans, 164). Living between worlds is further highlighted with the unfortunate incident of Gogol receiving his given name at the hospital. Gogol’s name amplifies his inability to fit into the country of his birth, the United States of America, as well as the inability to fit into the country of his ancestry, India. Gogol, as a teenager and young adult, laments that his name is of an ill-fated Russian writer. He claims his name sounds peculiar, and is further embarrassed when he discovers that the writer Nikolai Gogol led a tortured and conflicted life. Part of the irony is that Gogol himself is in a sense tortured and conflicted. He cannot communicate with or understand his parents; his parents are from a different land and a different culture from which Gogol is so far removed. He blames his parents for much of his young adult life concerning the awkwardness of his name; it is only later that Gogol discovers that his name has incredible significance, as the name Gogol is related to Ashoke’s second chance at life, a resurrection of sorts, to create himself as something new and to travel to a new land.
A life of betwixt and between is also reflected in Ashoke and Ashima’s relationship with each other, and their life as husband and wife in the United States. Ashima has constant thoughts of wanting to return home to Calcutta. She carries around mementos of her family and former life in India; she reads and rereads letters from her family, Bengali magazines, and Bengali books. She longs for her family to help her raise her children. Ashima and Ashoke live a life in exile from their home country. Much of Ashima’s thoughts are lamentations, missing her home country and her family. She finds substitutions within the Indian and Bengali community in the United States, but Ashima reflects that these are but mere substitutes for a reality that she once knew. She laments that she does not feel a connection with or understand her American-born children. In this life led in exile, Ashoke and Ashima do not make outrageous attempts to assimilate to the culture. They do eventually have to give Gogol a legal name, they purchase a home in a suburb, Ashoke has a professorship at a university, and accommodations are made to make by Gogol’s and Sonia’s request, such as celebrating a secular form of Christmas, and inevitably having to give in to the wishes of a five-year old Gogol to use his pet name in place of his good name.
Ultimately, in reading The Namesake through a theological lens, I continued to think of Jesus Christ as the immigrant par excellence. Gogol had no one to relate to throughout the novel. Part of the distance was through his parents’ mistakes; they were not prepared to give him a good name, and instead used a family name in place of his proper name. Gogol’s name ostracized him from everyone. When Gogol legally changed his name to Nikhil, there was still a sense of ostracism. He could not connect to his “former” identity as Gogol; ironically, using a proper Bengali name seemed to further separate him from his family prior to Ashoke’s sudden death. As Nikhil, Gogol seemed to live a different life but could not connect to his parents, his status of living between worlds and cultures, but could not connect to American culture. In reading, I think of Jesus as the mestizo and as the "Immigrant par excellence, the Marginalized One living in the both-and and beyond situation" (Phan, 174). While The Namesake does not mention religion, there is something particularly Christ-like in the character of Gogol. Gogol wanders through his life with a mixed identity of being neither Indian nor American, or being too Indian or too American; Jesus walked this earth as truly human and truly divine. Gogol is the child of immigrants trying to find his identity in a land where he doesn’t fit; Jesus is the immigrant par excellence in a world where he perfectly fits and a world he does not fit at all.
Reading the book years later through the lens of a seminary student, I saw new things. I very much related this reading of The Namesake to Peter Phan’s idea of "betwixt and between" (Peter C. Phan, "The Dragon and the Eagle: Toward a Vietnamese-American Theology" in Realizing the America of Our Hearts: Theological Voices of Asian Americans, 164). Living between worlds is further highlighted with the unfortunate incident of Gogol receiving his given name at the hospital. Gogol’s name amplifies his inability to fit into the country of his birth, the United States of America, as well as the inability to fit into the country of his ancestry, India. Gogol, as a teenager and young adult, laments that his name is of an ill-fated Russian writer. He claims his name sounds peculiar, and is further embarrassed when he discovers that the writer Nikolai Gogol led a tortured and conflicted life. Part of the irony is that Gogol himself is in a sense tortured and conflicted. He cannot communicate with or understand his parents; his parents are from a different land and a different culture from which Gogol is so far removed. He blames his parents for much of his young adult life concerning the awkwardness of his name; it is only later that Gogol discovers that his name has incredible significance, as the name Gogol is related to Ashoke’s second chance at life, a resurrection of sorts, to create himself as something new and to travel to a new land.
A life of betwixt and between is also reflected in Ashoke and Ashima’s relationship with each other, and their life as husband and wife in the United States. Ashima has constant thoughts of wanting to return home to Calcutta. She carries around mementos of her family and former life in India; she reads and rereads letters from her family, Bengali magazines, and Bengali books. She longs for her family to help her raise her children. Ashima and Ashoke live a life in exile from their home country. Much of Ashima’s thoughts are lamentations, missing her home country and her family. She finds substitutions within the Indian and Bengali community in the United States, but Ashima reflects that these are but mere substitutes for a reality that she once knew. She laments that she does not feel a connection with or understand her American-born children. In this life led in exile, Ashoke and Ashima do not make outrageous attempts to assimilate to the culture. They do eventually have to give Gogol a legal name, they purchase a home in a suburb, Ashoke has a professorship at a university, and accommodations are made to make by Gogol’s and Sonia’s request, such as celebrating a secular form of Christmas, and inevitably having to give in to the wishes of a five-year old Gogol to use his pet name in place of his good name.
Ultimately, in reading The Namesake through a theological lens, I continued to think of Jesus Christ as the immigrant par excellence. Gogol had no one to relate to throughout the novel. Part of the distance was through his parents’ mistakes; they were not prepared to give him a good name, and instead used a family name in place of his proper name. Gogol’s name ostracized him from everyone. When Gogol legally changed his name to Nikhil, there was still a sense of ostracism. He could not connect to his “former” identity as Gogol; ironically, using a proper Bengali name seemed to further separate him from his family prior to Ashoke’s sudden death. As Nikhil, Gogol seemed to live a different life but could not connect to his parents, his status of living between worlds and cultures, but could not connect to American culture. In reading, I think of Jesus as the mestizo and as the "Immigrant par excellence, the Marginalized One living in the both-and and beyond situation" (Phan, 174). While The Namesake does not mention religion, there is something particularly Christ-like in the character of Gogol. Gogol wanders through his life with a mixed identity of being neither Indian nor American, or being too Indian or too American; Jesus walked this earth as truly human and truly divine. Gogol is the child of immigrants trying to find his identity in a land where he doesn’t fit; Jesus is the immigrant par excellence in a world where he perfectly fits and a world he does not fit at all.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Day Four, Asian Theological Summer Institute
What thoughts do I have as I am sitting on an airplane, flying back to the west coast? I am honored, humbled, and blessed for the opportunity to attend the Asian Theological Summer Institute. It was fascinating to sit in a room with new and established scholars listening to the future of theological research from Asians and Asian Americans. I'm excited for the church catholic, and while theological education has entered tough times, I am waiting in eager anticipation for the future of Asian and Asian American theological scholarship.
Identity was further played with today with Dr. Eleazar Fernandez's presentation. I'm still digesting what he presented, because it was pretty darned intense. It leads me to wonder about listening to multiple narratives in a greater story, and am I listening to other narratives? What narratives am I not hearing? Yet again, questions of identity pop up...
I had an interesting conversation with one of the mentors at the conference. He asked me about the purpose of my FTE project. I told him there were a few reasons why I came to build this project. Part of this project is an opportunity for me to network within my denomination. I haven't been Lutheran all that long, and I'm still wandering about trying to find relationships with denominational leadership, particularly Asian and Asian American leadership. While I know people in northern and southern California, I want to know educators, pastors, and lay leaders. I want to know their narratives in the greater ELCA narrative.
One of my more formative classes in Spring 2011 was a systematics class in Asian American Theologies taught by Dr. Joanne Doi. In that class, I acquired a vocabulary that was more appropriate to my social location. I had read different types of liberation theology, reading books by Justo Gonzales, Gustavo Gutiérrez, James Cone, and Delores Williams, but there was something about their vocabularies that didn't quite fit my situation. There was a resonance, but at the same time, there was not a complete comprehension. It was somewhat of a disjointed connection. In Dr. Doi's class, I questioned one of the readings with a heavy reliance on Black Liberation Theology; while there were some common threads with talking about an experience, they were very different lived experiences. Dr. Doi mentioned that there is a need to look to others to start building a vocabulary, pushing and pulling with words for a comparative experience, but not the *same* experience. Then yesterday's conversation with Lucia started to hit home as well: we need to learn the voices of others to better understand our own voice. The sense of borrowing was also brought up today, which reminded me of using the words of Black Liberation Theology in my Asian American Theologies class. And of course, when it comes to borrowing, who really owns knowledge?
Part of this project is also learning about my own identity. In speaking with Dr. Rajashekar, I didn't really think about my identity in the United States until joining a church. I never thought about my sense of being until being in a greater church population. But when I joined the church, I received some odd comments that made me think about the appearance of my person. I didn't question my relationship with God in Christ, but I did start to question my relationships within a church community. I also noticed the physical appearance of my person when my husband and I visited India. It was odd realizing that I married a Caucasian man three years after our marraige.
I was wondering about what the ELCA calls "Multicultural Ministries" and how it worked. I thought of the Office of Multicultural Ministries as a nebulous cloud somewhere in the distant land of Chicago. The FTE project gave me an impetus to contact the office to make connections with the staff, but also to see what was actually going on in this ministry.
My time at ATSI was so valuable. I now have a better idea of interview questions I plan to ask my subjects in the coming weeks. While this is a formation experience for me, it's also a chance for me to interact with new people in the ELCA, talk about "Multicultural Ministries," and see four out of the eight ELCA seminaries.
This post is more like a stream of consciousness. I have pages upon pages of notes from ATSI that I need to sort through, look more in depth at the comments and questions I had concerning common threads I experienced. I need to sit and think about what I've heard and what I've experienced. I also need to continue through my personal discernment process, especially concerning theological education.
I wish all of the doctoral students blessings as they enter the writing process and look forward to hearing about their work. I also want to thank the ATSI mentors for their words of wisdom and their encouragement. It was wonderful to meet the people behind the essays and books I've read.
Identity was further played with today with Dr. Eleazar Fernandez's presentation. I'm still digesting what he presented, because it was pretty darned intense. It leads me to wonder about listening to multiple narratives in a greater story, and am I listening to other narratives? What narratives am I not hearing? Yet again, questions of identity pop up...
I had an interesting conversation with one of the mentors at the conference. He asked me about the purpose of my FTE project. I told him there were a few reasons why I came to build this project. Part of this project is an opportunity for me to network within my denomination. I haven't been Lutheran all that long, and I'm still wandering about trying to find relationships with denominational leadership, particularly Asian and Asian American leadership. While I know people in northern and southern California, I want to know educators, pastors, and lay leaders. I want to know their narratives in the greater ELCA narrative.
One of my more formative classes in Spring 2011 was a systematics class in Asian American Theologies taught by Dr. Joanne Doi. In that class, I acquired a vocabulary that was more appropriate to my social location. I had read different types of liberation theology, reading books by Justo Gonzales, Gustavo Gutiérrez, James Cone, and Delores Williams, but there was something about their vocabularies that didn't quite fit my situation. There was a resonance, but at the same time, there was not a complete comprehension. It was somewhat of a disjointed connection. In Dr. Doi's class, I questioned one of the readings with a heavy reliance on Black Liberation Theology; while there were some common threads with talking about an experience, they were very different lived experiences. Dr. Doi mentioned that there is a need to look to others to start building a vocabulary, pushing and pulling with words for a comparative experience, but not the *same* experience. Then yesterday's conversation with Lucia started to hit home as well: we need to learn the voices of others to better understand our own voice. The sense of borrowing was also brought up today, which reminded me of using the words of Black Liberation Theology in my Asian American Theologies class. And of course, when it comes to borrowing, who really owns knowledge?
Part of this project is also learning about my own identity. In speaking with Dr. Rajashekar, I didn't really think about my identity in the United States until joining a church. I never thought about my sense of being until being in a greater church population. But when I joined the church, I received some odd comments that made me think about the appearance of my person. I didn't question my relationship with God in Christ, but I did start to question my relationships within a church community. I also noticed the physical appearance of my person when my husband and I visited India. It was odd realizing that I married a Caucasian man three years after our marraige.
I was wondering about what the ELCA calls "Multicultural Ministries" and how it worked. I thought of the Office of Multicultural Ministries as a nebulous cloud somewhere in the distant land of Chicago. The FTE project gave me an impetus to contact the office to make connections with the staff, but also to see what was actually going on in this ministry.
My time at ATSI was so valuable. I now have a better idea of interview questions I plan to ask my subjects in the coming weeks. While this is a formation experience for me, it's also a chance for me to interact with new people in the ELCA, talk about "Multicultural Ministries," and see four out of the eight ELCA seminaries.
This post is more like a stream of consciousness. I have pages upon pages of notes from ATSI that I need to sort through, look more in depth at the comments and questions I had concerning common threads I experienced. I need to sit and think about what I've heard and what I've experienced. I also need to continue through my personal discernment process, especially concerning theological education.
I wish all of the doctoral students blessings as they enter the writing process and look forward to hearing about their work. I also want to thank the ATSI mentors for their words of wisdom and their encouragement. It was wonderful to meet the people behind the essays and books I've read.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Day Three, Asian Theological Summer Institute
One of the books I brought with me was One With God: Salvation as Deification and Justification. While this is not my normal fare, I'm reading it for my class on Christology, Soteriology, and Pneumatology. One of the bigger arguments according to the author is that Lutheranism totally misunderstood Luther in justification and sanctification. Luther thought the two were united, while the latter Lutherans separated the two, as evidenced in The Book of Concord. This made me seriously wonder about something I was asked my first day at Pacific Lutheran Theological Seminary: "What is Lutheran identity?" I even went to the Lutheran Theological Seminary of Philadelphia's library during my lunch hour to reread Luther's "The Freedom of a Christian" to make sure that the author's argument (and that I myself) wasn't totally bonkers. I think Kärkkäinen (the author of One of God) has something vital to say to the present-day Lutheran tradition...
What did my professors mean by asking, "What is Lutheran identity?" Hasn't the denomination been around the United States for a few hundred years? Why is there yet again an obsession with identity? Yet again, in conversation with the faculty advisers of the Asian Theological Summer Institute, there is a similar obsession with Lutheran identity as there is with Asian American identity. There is a need for immigrant communities to know a sense of self in a different context. Part of the struggle with Lutheran identity is coming from a rich western European background; but how is that background then compared with the immigrant experience to a foreign land (in this case, the United States)? How does the Lutheran struggle with finding a sense of identity then relate to an Asian American sense of finding identity? Is there then potential for creativity in liminal spaces? Or are there going to be the concrete restrictions of borders of definition?
Speaking of definition concerning borders and restrictions, this then leads me to a presentation made today by Dr. Frank Yamada of McCormick Seminary. He spoke to pedagogy, and I was quite intrigued by his three questions in what he titles "The 'Culture' Exercise." I will leave you with the three questions of "The 'Culture' Exercise" and hope that you will take the time to think about these three questions:
1. What is your culture?
2. In what ways do you reflect and resist your culture?
3. How does your culture influence your reading of biblical text?
This led to interesting discussion. My discussion partner was Lucia, a Catholic sister who just successfully completed her PhD. She mentioned something insightful that I would like to leave with you. She stated that there is a need to learn about other voices in order to better understand our own voice. Somethings are starting to click, while somethings are becoming increasingly complicated.
What did my professors mean by asking, "What is Lutheran identity?" Hasn't the denomination been around the United States for a few hundred years? Why is there yet again an obsession with identity? Yet again, in conversation with the faculty advisers of the Asian Theological Summer Institute, there is a similar obsession with Lutheran identity as there is with Asian American identity. There is a need for immigrant communities to know a sense of self in a different context. Part of the struggle with Lutheran identity is coming from a rich western European background; but how is that background then compared with the immigrant experience to a foreign land (in this case, the United States)? How does the Lutheran struggle with finding a sense of identity then relate to an Asian American sense of finding identity? Is there then potential for creativity in liminal spaces? Or are there going to be the concrete restrictions of borders of definition?
Speaking of definition concerning borders and restrictions, this then leads me to a presentation made today by Dr. Frank Yamada of McCormick Seminary. He spoke to pedagogy, and I was quite intrigued by his three questions in what he titles "The 'Culture' Exercise." I will leave you with the three questions of "The 'Culture' Exercise" and hope that you will take the time to think about these three questions:
1. What is your culture?
2. In what ways do you reflect and resist your culture?
3. How does your culture influence your reading of biblical text?
This led to interesting discussion. My discussion partner was Lucia, a Catholic sister who just successfully completed her PhD. She mentioned something insightful that I would like to leave with you. She stated that there is a need to learn about other voices in order to better understand our own voice. Somethings are starting to click, while somethings are becoming increasingly complicated.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Day Two, Asian Theological Summer Institute
"Be still and know that I am God..."
I tend to forget this passage in Scripture. A lot. The students and professors of ATSI gathered early this morning for a devotion led by Dr. Kwok Pui-Lan. She had us sit still for five minutes. I forgot what it feels like to sit still for even a minute. She spoke of the "monkey mind" that wanders off, but she wanted us to be centered and focused on our breathing. And of course, my monkey mind wandered off to think about the papers I still have to write for my systematics class, but I remembered to come back, center, and breathe.
Today was pretty spectacular and thought-provoking. The morning started off with Dr. Jayakiran Sebastian's presentation on "The Baptism of Death: Reading, Rereading, and Resignifying a 19th Century Mission Document Today." It dealt with Christian missionaries coming to India with the intent to convert Brahmins, looking at the relationship between a Brahmin woman and her Christian convert husband. What is interesting about the convert's wife is that she had been erased from history; historical documentation acknowledges the convert's white, Christian wife, but history has removed the first Indian Hindu Brahmin wife. One of the big questions from Dr. Sebastian's presentation concerned unlearning present social power constructs to enter into dialogue with historical documents... and how identity has been constructed through text.
The rest of the day was filled with student proposal presentations, which was fascinating. One of the common themes I found with many (but not all) of the presentations related to a sense of identity. With much of today's doctoral proposal presentations pointing towards identity, I feel that I am on the right track in formulating my questions for my future interviews. While identity is an interesting subject, why is it so prevalent within an Asian and Asian American theological context? Why is there such a focus on identity? Why is this one of the prevalent threads appearing on the first day, from both established professors and doctoral students? In speaking with Dr. Kwok Pui-Lan, she made this fascination understandable. She stated that there is an American obsession with identity, particularly in a land populated by immigrants.
An obsession with identity. Yep, I'm there too. What is my story in the greater theological narrative? What is the story for Asian Americans within the greater narrative of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America? What happens when identity is placed upon a marginalized population? Why do those in power place such labels on the marginalized? Is the idea of belonging a sense of "be-longing" for Asian American Christians?
I tend to forget this passage in Scripture. A lot. The students and professors of ATSI gathered early this morning for a devotion led by Dr. Kwok Pui-Lan. She had us sit still for five minutes. I forgot what it feels like to sit still for even a minute. She spoke of the "monkey mind" that wanders off, but she wanted us to be centered and focused on our breathing. And of course, my monkey mind wandered off to think about the papers I still have to write for my systematics class, but I remembered to come back, center, and breathe.
Today was pretty spectacular and thought-provoking. The morning started off with Dr. Jayakiran Sebastian's presentation on "The Baptism of Death: Reading, Rereading, and Resignifying a 19th Century Mission Document Today." It dealt with Christian missionaries coming to India with the intent to convert Brahmins, looking at the relationship between a Brahmin woman and her Christian convert husband. What is interesting about the convert's wife is that she had been erased from history; historical documentation acknowledges the convert's white, Christian wife, but history has removed the first Indian Hindu Brahmin wife. One of the big questions from Dr. Sebastian's presentation concerned unlearning present social power constructs to enter into dialogue with historical documents... and how identity has been constructed through text.
The rest of the day was filled with student proposal presentations, which was fascinating. One of the common themes I found with many (but not all) of the presentations related to a sense of identity. With much of today's doctoral proposal presentations pointing towards identity, I feel that I am on the right track in formulating my questions for my future interviews. While identity is an interesting subject, why is it so prevalent within an Asian and Asian American theological context? Why is there such a focus on identity? Why is this one of the prevalent threads appearing on the first day, from both established professors and doctoral students? In speaking with Dr. Kwok Pui-Lan, she made this fascination understandable. She stated that there is an American obsession with identity, particularly in a land populated by immigrants.
An obsession with identity. Yep, I'm there too. What is my story in the greater theological narrative? What is the story for Asian Americans within the greater narrative of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America? What happens when identity is placed upon a marginalized population? Why do those in power place such labels on the marginalized? Is the idea of belonging a sense of "be-longing" for Asian American Christians?
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Day One, Asian Theological Summer Institute
"This Lutheran Life" is going to be on the road for the next few weeks. I am currently at the Asian Theological Summer Institute at Lutheran Theological Seminary Philadelphia. Let me first state that I still cannot believe that I am here. I spent the day with such incredible theologians, and getting to hear about the future of doctoral research for Asians and Asian American theologians is quite remarkable. I am not a participant, as I am not a PhD student, but I am allowed to be here as an observer. Why? I am formulating questions for the interviews I will conduct with Asian American pastors in the ELCA later in the summer. I want to ask about pastoral identity in a predominantly white denomination. I also want to ask if such a minority status impacts an interpretation of incarnational identity in any way. I also want to ask about the hopes for the ELCA's office of Multicultural Ministries. What works? What doesn't? What are the hopes of dreaming big, even if the denomination is leaner and streamlining due to current financial situations? I hope that hearing the research of Asians and Asian American doctoral students will help me hone my interview questions and give me further insight to the ELCA's Multicultural Ministries.
Today consisted primarily of introductions. The program director, Dr. Paul Rajashekar, has been an amazing host, particularly to someone attending the institute as an observer. Speaking to the future professors of theological education is also inspiring. It's both scary and exciting to see how the church will be shaped by the Spirit in the future. It's also so valuable to speak to current Asian and Asian American theologians currently working in the academy. It's amazing to find mentor scholars who have similar research interests, particularly when my interests have been limited by the demographics of my denomination.
Part of today's discussion was also talking about the cultural and colonial legacies that current Asian and Asian American scholars face today. Some academic advisors may not allow for studies in Asian American research because the advisor knows nothing about the field. Or the adivsor may think the field of Asian American theology isn't "mainstream" enough, and that research should be done on a well-established topic. As an Asian American in theology, there is difficulty in navigating the totality of identity. I cannot and do not want to change who I am, but part of who I am and how I am identified can be both a help and a hindrance, especially when that hindrance can be "tokenism."
Ultimately, what are my thoughts on this first day? I am thankful and so blessed for this opportunity. It's only day one, and I'm having such intriguing discussions concerning identity. I'm also so honored to observe this institute and to listen in on conversations concerning the future of Asian American theologies. I'm so thankful that I took Dr. Doi's Asian American Theologies class, because I'm meeting so many people; they are real flesh and blood, giving life and voice to the pages I read in a book. This is incarnational in a sense for me, the word becoming flesh. I'm meeting mentors and theologians that have impacted my early theological education.
Today consisted primarily of introductions. The program director, Dr. Paul Rajashekar, has been an amazing host, particularly to someone attending the institute as an observer. Speaking to the future professors of theological education is also inspiring. It's both scary and exciting to see how the church will be shaped by the Spirit in the future. It's also so valuable to speak to current Asian and Asian American theologians currently working in the academy. It's amazing to find mentor scholars who have similar research interests, particularly when my interests have been limited by the demographics of my denomination.
Part of today's discussion was also talking about the cultural and colonial legacies that current Asian and Asian American scholars face today. Some academic advisors may not allow for studies in Asian American research because the advisor knows nothing about the field. Or the adivsor may think the field of Asian American theology isn't "mainstream" enough, and that research should be done on a well-established topic. As an Asian American in theology, there is difficulty in navigating the totality of identity. I cannot and do not want to change who I am, but part of who I am and how I am identified can be both a help and a hindrance, especially when that hindrance can be "tokenism."
Ultimately, what are my thoughts on this first day? I am thankful and so blessed for this opportunity. It's only day one, and I'm having such intriguing discussions concerning identity. I'm also so honored to observe this institute and to listen in on conversations concerning the future of Asian American theologies. I'm so thankful that I took Dr. Doi's Asian American Theologies class, because I'm meeting so many people; they are real flesh and blood, giving life and voice to the pages I read in a book. This is incarnational in a sense for me, the word becoming flesh. I'm meeting mentors and theologians that have impacted my early theological education.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
A conversation with Mary and Martha.
Martha: I love my brother. My brother isn’t perfect, though. He picked on my sister and me when we were younger. He gave us a hard time, but in a way, I think he was preparing my sister and me for our adulthood. Life in Bethany is all right, but in reality, it’s not all that easy.
I’m sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself here. I should really introduce myself. My name is Martha. I live in the village of Bethany with my sister Mary and my brother Lazarus. I’m very close with my siblings. I love them so much I can’t even begin to tell you.
I love my brother and sister a lot. But something tragic happened to my brother, Lazarus. One day, he suddenly became ill. He was really, really sick. Mary and I cared for him as best we could, but he wasn’t getting better. All three of us were really scared. Our brother Lazarus, who picked on us in hopes we’d be strong adult women… our brother Lazarus, who protected us from the dangers of the world… our brother Lazarus, who loved us and cared for us… was dying. Because he was so, so sick, we didn’t know what to do. We tried all of the remedies we could think of, but nothing worked. We asked for elders to come see him and asked for their help. They couldn’t tell us what to do. We even sent word to my brother’s friend, Jesus; the message we sent was “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” We thought Jesus would know what to do; he’s been traveling throughout the land teaching, preaching, and healing. Surely, if our brother’s friend is healing strangers, he can come and heal our brother, or at least tell us what to do to care for him!
Mary: Well, my sister Martha and I got word back that our brother’s friend said that our brother’s not going to die. We heard he told his disciples, “This illness does not lead to death.” I believed my brother’s friend. I thought Lazarus was going to get better and be healthy again. I thought our brother would get better because his “friend,” Jesus, sure took his sweet time getting here. He didn’t come right away. My sister and I heard he was staying two days longer wherever he was. So my sister, brother, and I figured we didn’t have anything to worry about.
And then. my. brother. died. He died. He was so sick, and my sister and I thought he was going to get better. AND HE DIED. I was so angry, so upset. Jesus, who claimed to be my brother’s friend, who can heal a bunch of other people, let my brother die. How could he let this happen? This friend said my brother’s illness “is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” What? God’s glory? What does that mean when my brother is dead and my sister and I are preparing his body for burial in a tomb?
Martha: I’ll admit I was sad when Lazarus died. I didn’t feel the fury or anger my sister felt, but I was devastated with my brother being gone. I knew Jesus loved my brother, but I was comforted with knowing that Lazarus would rise again on the last day, but I didn’t know when the last day would be. I continued to love and miss my brother immediately following his death. I knew Lazarus would rise… someday. Just not soon. Mary and I cared for my brother when we prepared his body for burial. We carefully bound my brother in fabric strips. We needed help, though, carrying him to and placing him in the tomb. That was a difficult day. He was laying in the tomb, covered entirely by strips of fabric. His body was so still. And inside the tomb was so quiet, so dark, so still. I was so sad leaving Lazarus there, my brother who was full of life, was lying dead on a slab of rock. We found some men in Bethany to roll a large stone in front of the cave. Mary and I cried and cried when the stone was rolled, closing off the cave. We wept for our brother, the life he could have had if he got better. But Mary and I had to realize that once the stone was rolled over the front of the cave, we would never get Lazarus back. Our brother was gone to us until the last day, when he and all of us would rise in the resurrection of that last day.
Mary: But Jesus could have come to heal Lazarus. I kept thinking, “This didn’t have to happen.” I didn’t understand what Jesus meant by my brother’s illness being for the glory of God. I just knew that I was devastated when Lazarus died, and I was really upset with Jesus.
We heard that Jesus said that Lazarus fell asleep. FELL ASLEEP? Are you kidding me? I was there when Lazarus took his last breath! Taking your last breath and dying is not like falling asleep! Yeah, I know Jesus has been traveling around preaching, teaching, and healing, but wow, this was the biggest misdiagnosis ever! And he wasn’t even there to look at Lazarus to see what was wrong with him! I wanted Jesus to come as soon as he could to help my brother, but no, Jesus said that Lazarus was asleep and that this was for God’s glory. I didn’t see it.
Martha: I know that Mary was really affected with Lazarus’s death and Jesus not showing up in time. Mary and I were mourning my brother’s loss. And then I heard that Jesus was coming to Bethany. When he was at the edge of the village, I left my home. I ran to meet him. I wanted Mary to come with me, but she said she couldn’t. She was still upset that Jesus had done nothing for Lazarus. Mary did not want to see Jesus because she said it would hurt her too much. But I had to see Jesus. I had to talk with him. I was still mourning my brother’s death, but I had to meet my brother’s dear friend as soon as I could.
I met Jesus at the edge of the village. I was exhausted, because I ran straight from my house. I was out of breath, but I had to tell Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Yes I was upset with Lazarus dying. But I told Jesus, “But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.”
Jesus told me that Lazarus would rise again. Yes, I knew that Lazarus would rise again, on the last day. Lazarus would come back at the end time. But Lazarus was dead; resurrection would happen much, much later.
Jesus then said something amazing, as Jesus usually does. He said, “I am the resurrection and the life.” He said that all who believe in him and die will live, and everyone who lives and believes in him will never die. Will never die. Will never die. Mary had to hear this. Mary, who was so devastated when Lazarus died, needed to hear that all who believe in Jesus will live even if they die. Mary needed to hear this from Jesus. I ran back to the house to find Mary. I found her sitting on the floor, weeping. People were surrounding her, trying to comfort her. I went up to her and told her that Teacher was in the village. Jesus was there, and he wanted to speak with her. Mary was resistant.
Mary: You bet I was resistant. Jesus, who took his sweet time getting here, well after Lazarus died. Jesus, this preacher, teacher, and healer couldn’t come heal his own friend Lazarus. I wanted Jesus to see my tears. I got up off the floor and didn’t bother wiping off my face. I got up and ran away from the house, away from those trying to comfort me. I wasn’t at a place where I could be consoled. I cried for days straight. I couldn’t stop crying. I missed my brother so much, I felt like part of my soul had been ripped away, taken away from me, something I would never get back. So I ran. Maybe to run away from my pain. Maybe to tell Jesus what I thought.
When I saw Jesus, I stopped. Here was my brother’s friend who arrived too late. Too late to save my dear brother. I was exhausted when I saw Jesus. I was exhausted from running. I was exhausted from my grief. I was exhausted from my anger. I was so exhausted, I went up to him, knelt in front of him. I was at a loss for words. I had so much to tell Jesus, how he was wrong for not coming sooner. How he could have done something if he got here in time. How Lazarus could still be alive and with us, if Jesus got here when we sent that message. But the only thing that could come out of my mouth was, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” I could hear the words echo in my ears, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” My brother would not have died. And as I knelt at Jesus’s feet, I wept. I wept for Lazarus, and all of the incredible things his life could have been if Jesus got here in time. I wept for my sister and me, because I didn’t know what we were going to do without Lazarus. I wept because I was selfish, I wanted Jesus to heal my brother. Instead, I thought Jesus let my brother die.
Jesus was silent as I wept before him. Everyone around us cried. He looked disturbed. Maybe he was feeling grief for Lazarus’s death. Jesus then asked where we lard Lazarus. I was so emotional, crying and mourning, that I could not answer Jesus. The Jews who were with us, weeping with us took Jesus to the tomb. I got up off the ground to follow.
We all stopped in front of the cave where we left Lazarus. Jesus, the Jews with us, Martha, and me. We all stood and stared at that great rock which covered the entrance to the cave. It was so silent. I wanted to place my hand on the rock that covered the entrance to the cave to remember my brother, but I couldn’t. I just stared at the giant rock that separated me from my brother.
Then Jesus did something amazing. He wept. He began to cry. The Jews around Jesus noticed this. I heard someone say, “See how he loved him.” See how he loved him? If Jesus loved my brother, Jesus would have been here earlier. Jesus would have healed Lazarus. Someone else in the crowd said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man kept this man from dying?”
Jesus then went to the large stone covering the entrance of the cave. Jesus leaned up against the stone. Maybe he was trying to remember Lazarus, connect to Lazarus the way that I wanted to? But then Jesus asked for the stone to be rolled away. What??? Martha was really shocked, she told Jesus that Lazarus has been dead in the tomb for days, once the stone was moved, we would be overwhelmed with the smell of death. But then Jesus looked at Martha and said, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”
Glory of God? I wondered to myself, what does Jesus mean by this? It was because of the glory of God he said my brother was ill, then asleep. I wondered if Jesus knew what he was talking about… Some of the men of the village rolled the stone away. Jesus looked to the sky, spoke to his Father, and Jesus wanted us to believe His Father sent him to us. All fell silent. Suddenly, Jesus cried, “LAZARUS, COME OUT!” I didn’t understand what was going on. I had been mourning for days. I was consumed with grief and anger. I was devastated that Lazarus was gone. But Jesus cried, “LAZARUS, COME OUT!”
Lazarus was leaning up against the wall of the cave. The cloths that Martha and I used to bind him were not letting him walk out to us. I stood in shock. I mourned Lazarus, I was devastated by his death, but before me, coming out of the cave, was my brother, alive and breathing. I was in shock, I couldn’t think to move to unbind Lazarus. Jesus then asked for others to unbind Lazarus to set him free.
Set him free. Lazarus was set free. Not just from the strips of fabric that bound him, but Lazarus was freed from death. Jesus did come to heal Lazarus. It didn’t happen the way I wanted it to, I didn’t want Lazarus to die, but I believe. I believe in Jesus, who said, “I am the resurrection and the life.” I believe that from this whole experience, we are freed from death, but not on our own time, and not on our own terms. I know that now. we are freed from death by a loving God, but we are freed from death on God’s time and on God’s terms. My brother did rise again. I saw what Jesus did, and I believe.
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