Nothing But Fancy

This summer I find myself in a bit of an intellectual and emotional conundrum around the ideas of privilege.  It has really been something I have struggled with my whole live, but the combined experience of the immigration trip, the story of someone who has become a dear friend to me, the books I have chosen to read (Including Blood on the Leaves, by Jeff Stetson), and many somewhat random encounters have put me in an inner funk.

I have a specific memory from my childhood when I first recognized my privilege and have felt like I “get it” for a while.  Yet, the way I have previously seen my privilege centers on being incredibly thankful for what I have and wanting to make the world a better place.  But now  I find that my mind is open to listen and imagine their experience, but my privilege is so great when I try to wrap my mind around their experience, to understand what it’s like experience some of the ultimatums people are up against (die or cross the border), or even try to feel what it must be like — I am a little girl putting on my mom’s shoes that are 8 sizes too big.

I felt thankful for my privilege, but now –before I can be thankful– there is an incredible, deep, sadness and anger that I can only begin to tap into.  I am sad and angry for the women in the maquiladoras at the border, for the reality that I am a successful and active participant in a system that forces people around the world to suffer, for the fact that I love having everything I want, for the fact that I’m not sure how to help or even if I can make a difference, for my family and friends who will never “get” our privilege and the societal cost to maintain it, for the system itself that keeps it us vs. them, and for 100 other reasons I do not know, yet. – How can I be thankful? How can we begin to truly understand when our skin is so white?  How do you gain validity with a community of people who know that you are so different?

I must struggle with these things before I can cross over to the beauty in our diversity and hope for reconciliation.  Ultimately the God who understands, knows, and has experienced great suffering, LIVES IN ME to minister to people.

Pedagogy — that’s a fancy word for how to teach — and I have been thinking a lot about it lately.

I am the classic over achiever who finds out the “rules” of a class and then dives head first into producing exactly what the professor wants to emerge with an A.  People that make good grades are not smarter or even more hard working than those with a lower GPA, they are the best at playing the game.

This semester I am taking New Testament with AJ Levine… talk about Vanderbilt Divinity ROCK STAR… she is an intense force of  New Testament knowledge, famous for her discussions on Jewish Christian Relations, and ridiculously intimidating to me.  Right above the D+ grade on the essay of the last exam she wrote: “You’ll be a more effective teacher (or pastor, if that is your track) if you can cite the biblical text to support your claims.”  YIKES.  I studied an uncalculated amount of hours for this exam and had 20 minutes to write an essay on whether Paul did or did not experience a “conversion” on the road to Damascus.  I knew most of the arguments and I knew most of the scripture — I didn’t have time.

This morning at a Cal Turner Leadership breakfast Contemplative Pedagogy was discussed as a way to develop the whole person.  This process asks the student to take at least five minutes for meditation to embrace our fears and struggles.

These two different perspectives in the context of higher education are interesting, yet the pedagogy of the “real world” has taught me that who I know is most important, not what I know or even how I articulate it.

Sure… knowing the biblical text is important… being able to contemplate the text and myself in context is important… but what about having a conversation about the text in relationship?  This is the pedagogy of Wesleyan covenant discipleship groups… seems like I need to find a group of people to go on this journey…

I have been thinking a lot about how to love others.  This weekend I traveled to Tallahassee for a dear friend’s wedding.  Over the course of the weekend I spent some quality time with a few people who have played a major role in my spiritual, intellectual, and emotional development.  Yet at the same time, I have missed out on spending quality time with some of the people I love most.

Both the reuniting and missed experiences have made me realize — my love for those dearest to me aches like the opposite of a massage.  Massages are uncomfortable on the surface but deep down they feel good.  Love for another person feels good on the surface but deep inside there is an ache that makes you wonder how love could possibly be what God calls us to do.

How does a person who… works 37.5 hours per week, has 9 credits of grad school course work, is training for a 1/2 marathon on Feb. 13th, and moved into a new house last weekend… have time to sleep or breath?!  I’m not sure… but I’m desperately trying to figure it out.

I have been told that the meaning of life is to find truth in the mystery of every passing second.  If life were a game of racket ball…  I am the beginner racket ball player watching the little blue ball of time fly past my heartfelt swing, only to pelt me in the back.

A song that was relevant to me when I was younger for a different reason, is replaying in my head… lyrics from This Mystery by Nicole Nordeman:

This routine is nice and clean from dawn to dusk
I rise and rest, I do my best
When will it ever be enough?…

Do You wish, do You want us to breathe again?
Say goodbye to the lines that we’ve colored in
Brown and grey from day to day
Do You cry, do You hope for all things made new?
Try and try to invoke us to live in You
That we might be the hands and feet of this mystery

My favorite sacrament of the church is Communion/Eucharist.  I grew up spilling grape juice down my dress and looking forward to the biggest chunk of Hawaiian Bread that they served at the summer camp I attended.  I have heard so many communion meditations (shorter sermons on Communion Sunday to keep the United Methodist’s happy), but never one that addressed the significance of the bread and cup that Jesus spoke of during the passover meal.

While reading for my New Testament class in The Historical Jesus in Context edited by Amy-Jill Levine (my professor for the course), Dale C. Allison Jr., and John Dominic Crossan, I learned that the bread which Jesus said, “this is my body” (Matthew 26:26) was called Aphikoman.  This piece of unleavened bread is set aside at the beginning of Passover and saved to be eaten last.  The Greek word Aphikoma comes from a word meaning “to come or arrive” which proposes a reference to a person who is coming or the Messiah.  The cup that Jesus says “this is my blood” (Matthew 26:28) is the third cup of the seder meal.  These are the scriptures that accompany the third cup in the reading of the Haggadah (the reading that accompanies the seder meal):

“Pour out Your wrath upon the nations that know You not and upon the kingdoms that have not called Your Name.  For they have devoured Jacob and laid waste his dwelling place” (Psalm 79:6,7).

“Pour out Your indignation upon them.  And let the fierceness of Your anger overtake them” (Psalm 69:25).

“Pursue them in wrath and destroy them from under the heavens of the Lord” (Lamentations 3:66).

This context is extremely significant to the meanings we prescribe to Jesus’ message and teachings!  Why am I just now learning this in Divinity School when I’ve taken communion in Church my whole life?

It would like for all the information that I encounter in Div School edify and strengthen my faith.  I would like for the information that I encounter in church to edify and strengthen my faith.

I’m not sure which is more difficult.

This past Thursday in my Hebrew Bible discussion class, we talked about the Aqedah or the binding of Isaac in Gen 22:1-24, where Abraham agrees to sacrifice Isaac per God’s request without any objection.  Our teaching fellow has never asked a “faith” question.  However, in more or less words she asked if this story makes us question our faith in a God that would test a human to sacrifice another human or propose murdering one of his followers.

One of our class mates mentioned the love he has for his own children and that it was not about God needing to know Abraham’s faithfulness as much as it was about Abraham and Issac and their experience.  I mentioned that I worship a God I can trust, not a God that I can understand or control.  Another classmate mentioned that this text is a way of explaining some of the toughest questions in life, without giving half-baked answers.

I left class feeling pretty good, but later when I thought about our discussion and what I said, I had a huge check with reality.  Have I really given up understanding or controlling God and do I really trust Him?

Recently I have been a bit of a hot mess.  Turning 25, being in Div school, having a real full time job, having a group of friends who love and care about me… makes me feel like I should have all my shit together.

I think God is asking me to take myself for a walk, bring some fire wood, and get ready to for a sacrifice of something dear to me.  Unlike Abraham… I’ve been dragging my feet hoping to get all my ducks in a row so that they can walk perfectly behind me.  Now that I’m to the place of sacrifice I see that he wants me to sacrifice not only the ideas I have about myself, but also the ideas I have about Him.

When I step foot in the divinity school I feel like orphan Annie in Daddy Warbuck’s house.  I want to run through the halls singing, “I think I’m gonna like it here!”  The thing that stops me is a future professor engraving me in their mind forever as the “first year musical psychopath. ”

I still have all the excitement and not the overload shock that some of my fellow students feel because I’m only taking one class.  Yes, unbelievably, the Board of Higher Education and Ministry will not let the little publications/office assistant off of her job for more than one class worth of time to get higher education for future ministry.  Therefore, I’m working full time and taking “Into to Hebrew Bible” with Douglas Knight.  (Despite the fact that he’s a Vanderbilt Rock Star Professor… he did not show up to class with an electric guitar… disappointing, being that we’re in Nashvegas.)  Regardless of the number of classes, I am so thankful for the opportunity to begin this journey and I pray to be a good steward of this remarkable gift!!

Besides the opportunity to combine my spiritual and intellectual domains in a grand and glorious grad degree, my favorite part of the journey thus far has been my INCREDIBLE colleagues.  It’s phenomenal to meet person after person that desires to change the world, pursue social justice, and eradicate poverty.  Due to past experience, I believe that God always finishes the things that he starts… to think that God will finish His goal through and in each one of us makes me want to explode with joy!!!!

Yet, with all of this excitement and joy there is still something deep inside of me that is unresolved and uncertain.  It’s not wondering if Div school or Vandy is right for me… It’s deeper inside of me, deeper than I can articulate with words… but it’s there and I feel it… mostly when I turn off the the noise and sit in the silence.  It’s deeper than I can reach and God is reaching it… these are words I read tonight from Henri Nowen’s book, The Inner Voice of Love:

“You are not yet there, but you are moving fast.  There will be a bit more pain and struggle.  You have to dare to live through it.  Keep walking straight.  Acknowledge your anguish, but do not let it pull you out of yourself.  Hold on to your chosen direction, your discipline, your prayer, your work, your guides, and trust that one day love will have conquered enough of you that even the most fearful part will allow love to cast out all fear.”

Love conquering all of me.  That’s what I hope this journey is about.

At the end of February I received a letter from Vanderbilt Div. School Admissions:

“I am delighted to inform you that you ahve been admitted to entering class of 2009 at Vanderbilt Divinity School… selected to receive a merit-based award that will cover 55% of your tuition..”

To be honest my first feeling was releif.  I was relieved that I was accepted and I waited for the excitment to set in.  It is now mid-April and I’m still waiting.

I am a person who can get excited about the smallest things… why am I not excited about this new step in my life?

One credit hour at Vanderbilt divinity is $750.  I want to be a missionary.  If one credit of my law school or med school was $750 I would feel great about investing in my future financial returns.  However, my vocations future returns have nothing to do with this earth.  Which is EXTREMELY EXCITING… yet, makes it a terrible idea to take out a $80,000 dollars in student loans over the course of 3 years.

As for assistantships… it’s been said that Vandy, being an academic institution, usually gives those to PhD or MA students (the academic degrees), rather than the MDiv students (professional degree).  So, I’m praying that the United Methodist Church would like to pick up the tab for my educational endeavors.  The UMC, for the most part, understands the spiritual investment they would be making in me!

Regardless of excitement or financial issues, stepping out in faith is as scary as it is real.  I sing songs that say “where you lead I will follow,” “everything I am for your Kingdom’s cause,” “You said, ask and you will receive, whatever you need”…  everything includes not only my present, but my past and future.  MYSELF is the only offering that I have to give.

I am excited to see how all of this fits with God’s promise for my life.

Two different people decided to tell me this story regarding my more liberal political views:  The story is about a girl who writes a paper in a high school class about democratic policies, she worked very hard on the paper and felt confidant that it deserved an “A.”  She gets the paper back with a “C-” on the front.  When she asks the teacher about the grade, petitioning that it was a really great paper, the teacher agrees and says that she is right, the paper deserves an “A,” but the rest of her class did not write “A” papers and she must share her grade with the rest of the class because that is the democratic thing to do.

Ha ha ha right?!  No.  This story equates a grade on a paper to life and death issues.  How about another story I heard recently:  There is a man who has the AIDS and needs to take medicine daily to stay alive.  He falls in love and marries a woman who also has the HIV virus but does not have medicine.  He is now forced with the question, do I share my drugs with my wife and have a high percentage that they don’t work for either of us or do I give them to her and die or do I keep them for myself and watch her die?

The first story is about a grade on a paper, sharing resources so that everyone does well in school.  The second story is about a man, who without shared resources will die.

The stories go on and on, people who live not only without health care but also without food, shelter, and education… people in the States and countless more overseas.

I want to support policies that make a better life for everyone and reverse cycles of poverty… even if it means that I lose a good portion of my inheritance.

I recently heard a pastor teaching on vocation.  He quoted Sam Keen from his book Fire in the Belly.  This is the quote:

In a time when my life had gone off track my friend Howard Thurman said to me, “Sam,” he said, “there are two questions a man must ask himself: The first is ‘Where am I going?’ and the second is ‘Who will go with me?’ If you ever get these questions in the wrong order you are in trouble.’”

I have been thinking a lot about where I’m going.  I have also been thinking a lot about who will go with me.  I don’t think I’ve ever really put the two questions in sequential order… but Thurman’s order makes a lot of sense to me.  I know people who are happily married without a clear idea on where they are headed as well as people who are divorced because they were going different directions.  Sometimes I beg for God to bring me a partner, but I’m still unsure of where I’m going and even more unsure of how I’ll get there.

I do not think that I will ever know exactly where I am going.  But this new succession of questions makes me excited that God is clarifying the going question before he sends me a man who is headed in the same direction.

I want to be very clear with both Sam Keen and Howard Thurman when I inform them that these two questions are not just for men.  Women are not tagalongs on the vocational journey of men.  We are partners, working together for our mutual benefit and doing ministry for the benefit of the world.