In the Dark

I'm a junkie for natural light. I'll open every window in the house or office before I flip on an overhead light or click on a lamp. I enjoy the softness of it. I enjoy not wasting energy when I can see perfectly fine in the given light. I just feel more content.

But... I'm learning that here in Montana, there is an entirely different way to be "green." I can't tell you the number of times someone comes by my office and says, "Oh, you can turn on the light...." To their credit, they don't actually flip on the light for me but they do give me a funny look. Additionally in a classic bulletin-versus-hymnal discussion, no one ever mentioned that it is more environmentally friendly to use hymnals. It just never came up. This is especially difficult for me after basking in the uber green collective conscience of the seminary.

So I'm trying to figure out how to define being green in Montana. I am surrounded by natural wildlife preserves and national parks, gardens in over half the homes, natural and local products in all the grocery stores, and a unending desire in everyone I meet to be outdoors and in nature. This last piece seems most crucial as we are celebrating the warm days that still remain and lamenting the onset of cooler weather.

It isn't green as I know it, but I'm discovering the deep joy that is Montana's love for mother nature. Why else would you live here? Or better yet, how can you deny the beauty when you live in the middle of it?

Psalm 27

"I know this rose will open, I know my fears will burn away, I know my soul will unfurl its wings, I know this rose will open."

As seminarians, we celebrate every time one of our peers is blessed with a call, and more joyous when it is one of our dear friends. It is a time for the community to come, dressed in beautiful, flowing vestments and joining in one chorus in affirmation. It is even more humbling and honoring to be asked to participate in the Rite of Ordination.

What was so important about this past Sunday was not because it was just another Ordination service, but for what it stood for. Somewhere, there was a moment where through the dying leaves of Autumn, under the darkness of night splashed with shooting stars, or as the whispers of nature speaking to one's soul the Creator reached out and touched our hearts and we answered.

Even with sometimes through the stumbling, the debris scattered along our Journey and when we doubt, those strong and beautiful mustard seeds sprout in the form of faith warriors who keep us in their hearts and prayers, and we continue on.

And when we come from the road tired and worn seeking shelter, we find those doors wide open with the sweetest gifts waiting: a meal, simple prepared and the purity of rushing waters over us, making us whole.

God's Peace.

Koinonia!

During orientation this year I remember people talking about the “struggle” for community at LSTC. Well, I’ve been here for five weeks, and let me tell you, coming from where I come from this is anything but a struggle. This is success! The fact that each of my professors knew my name by the end of the first class, and that some of my professors live in the same apartment complex as me is community. Having a wine-tasting with neighbors and friends, and then going to church with those neighbors the next morning is community. Finding a plate of cookies by our door after being away for a weekend. Having people around campus notice how long I’ve had cold symptoms. Having classmates ask me why I wasn’t at open gym last night. Continually seeing professors and students at my place of employment off campus. Having classmates ask me just how many hours I’ve worked at Starbucks this week, because it seems like a lot. These are all, to me, signs of community.

Maybe I’m biased, having just moved from a suburb of Los Angeles where it took real effort to get to know one neighbor’s name. Or because my last school was the largest seminary in the country, and I didn’t live on campus. But to me, LSTC has real community, and it is beautiful and wonderful to be a part of.

Conferencia

Last Friday I attended a Latino Cultural Proficiency Workshop hosted by the Metropolitan Chicago Synod.

I had learned about the workshop from LSTC’s weekly “Community Life Update” email. Having spent part of my seminary career in Mexico studying language and mostly Roman Catholic theology and practice, I was eager to see how Lutheran congregations in Chicago were opening their doors to the Latino community.

Nearly two dozen of us gathered at Resurrection Lutheran Church in Franklin Park, a western suburb about 45 minutes from LSTC. Most were pastors; I was the only seminarian. Many had come because they had seen the neighborhoods around their congregations changing, and they were looking for ways to better serve their communities.

Our leaders were two Latino pastors who were each leading thriving Spanish-speaking Lutheran congregations in different Chicago neighborhoods and suburbs, and one Anglo pastor who had recently presided over the merger of two congregations, one Latino and one Anglo. They spoke about their experiences and gave advice for best practices; we asked lots and lots of questions.

In the midst of the lively conversation, I found myself marveling at the new thing God was doing in our midst. Not growing the Lutheran church, not assimilating immigrants into US culture, no. Rather, in the meeting of different traditions, histories, languages, peoples, God’s Spirit was revealing itself in new and wondrous ways, showing itself in ways none of us – individual or community – could have imagined if we had remained alone. Isaiah 43:19, indeed.

(above: A mosaic inside the El station in Chicago's Pilsen neighborhood.)

Prayer

“Listen Lord, Listen Lord, not to our words but to our prayers. You alone, you alone, understand and care.”

The lyrics above are from a song from the Taizé community in France. I led a Taizé-style worship for a while and know the song well, but the meaning of it never hit me until last week.

I’ve never been much of a pray-er. I’ve tried various types and styles and methods, but nothing has ever really stuck for me. I struggle with that. After all, I’m in seminary, I’m studying to be a pastor, shouldn’t I be good at praying?

But we were singing this song in worship last week, and I was feeling totally overwhelmed by the experience of being in a new place, juggling new responsibilities, and trying to figure out who I am in this new role that is “vicar,” when suddenly it hit me. Maybe my problem is I have been defining prayer too narrowly. Prayer doesn’t have to be carefully composed soliloquies. (As one of my favorite bloggers points out: “I leave that to the real professionals like Thomas Cramner and the Blessed Mother.”) God doesn’t need my words; God hears my prayers. Even the ones I don’t know or cannot speak; the ones “too deep for words” (Rom. 8:26).

And not only does God hear, but God cares. The God who is creator of the universe and Lord of all, cares about the worries and concerns of one small, lonely intern in upstate New York. This is, as Dr. Satterlee would say, some good news.

You may kiss the bride...

I spent my weekend going to Green Bay, WI and from there to Saginaw, MI, with one thing on my mind…Weddings! On Wednesday I was in my Pastoral Care class, and our discussion was all about…Weddings! In my own life, weddings are usually talked about at least once a week if not once a day, since I am also engaged and planning to be married in August. I also received a heads up from my best man that he was getting engaged this same weekend. So my weekend was jam packed with driving, dancing, and a whole lot of fun experiences..
Throughout the weekend, I was learning about families and their rituals throughout services and receptions. Some things were silly, like opening the dance floor with a polka called, “The Bears Still Suck!” It was then, that I knew I was at a Green Bay wedding. Others were more sentimental, like the wedding in Michigan, where the couple was married in the same chapel as many of the groom’s family. I came back from the weekend with anticipation moments like these that pastors get to be a part of, and how they play an instrumental role in bringing God into a marriage in its first few seconds of existence. I cannot wait to perform my first wedding, I know I will be nervous, but how exciting to be a part of that day, and show God’s love through two people, just like it was this weekend and hopefully in my own wedding as well.

Every Sunday night, my cohort group meets for our Pentateuch study session.  We typically read LOTS and answer questions for every week’s worth of classes.  One of our first days of class, Dr. Klein encouraged us to find a group to split up the work with for our own sanity’s sake.  I wasn’t sure if I would, because I’ve always despised group work.  Inevitably, somebody doesn’t pull their weight and one person ends up feeling bruised and beaten by the project at hand.  

This isn’t the case with my cohort group.  We meet every week, with our work for the next two classes done.  We’re ready to discuss Amorites or the Documentary Hypothesis or what the heck Zippora was thinking! 

And the best part?  We eat.  We come up with themes for our meals and have family time, as cheesy as that sounds.  Last night was breakfast, which included cranberry-orange muffins, chocolate waffles with whipped cream, spinach/leek/onion quiche, fruit salad and orange juice.  It was pretty amazing.  

   

I can study like this every day.

Creator God, thank you for bringing my classmates into my life.  I am so grateful to have them to share the journey with.  They provide food for the soul and the body.