Posts
I've come to realize that people probably 'live out' their theology--or for a quick explanation, their real image of God. I think this may be particularly true when you are in a position of power or authority over others. If you are cruel or vindictive; if you lord your power over others according to whim; if you are never available--I think this could be you reflecting your own perceived imago Dei. Especially in a seminary context. In three years as a seminarian, having significant experience with authority systems in three seminaries, this has really become clear to me.
I've given some of the more negative examples. Now I'm going to give two just kind of interesting and pretty good examples. They're different from each other even, but still pretty good. These are the two professors that extend me the most encouragement and 'mentoring,' who I tend to trust a lot--even though their styles are different. I don't think I really made the connection with these two, though, until we started studying Mircea Eliade:
Imago Dei I:
The wise old man lives in the tower seemingly above it all. It takes some time to get hold of him when you try to contact him, and sometimes you wonder if he's around or remembered. But he does descend at odd times, and will collar you, with interest, and tell you what you need to be doing with your life. It doesn't last very long, and really it is usually pretty good, and then he goes back up again. But it sure makes you think...
Imago Dei II:
You're afraid to bother him, but you find he's almost always there when you get up and go to him. He always offers you a chair, even if you don't intend to stay long. He always seems to listen well. He doesn't overreact when you confess things that seem terrible to you. He may have different ideas than you for how to get out of a present fix, but you get the sense his intentions are good. And even if you are making a mess of things, his patience endures.
It's kind of interesting how I think of God...honestly, both of these, but at different times. And despite knowing so many images of God and knowing I should probably be more 'liberated,' I still have to say I usually think of God with white hair and a beard. Hmm...
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Ritual Containment, 2
Another thought I had today, which begins with preaching (which is sort of really mainly pastoral care) and ends with psychology (which is also sort of really also pastoral care), is that I wonder how many therapists use good 'ritual containment' in their work, and the consequences of not doing so.
For example, I have a dear friend who experienced incest during childhood and has since for years been in regular therapy. She tells me that afterwards, she's really 'out of commission' for quite a while before being able to resume her usual daily life activity. But, she also really relies on this therapist and goes back again and again.
I love my friend, and I'm not entirely convinced she's being helped by this therapist.
Therapy, I think, is tricky. In fifty minutes, you have to create the safe space in which a person can completely open up their deepest hurts and probe them--and then get 'put back together again' before walking out the door.
I think the first part usually happens, but I'm not so sure the second part does--generally speaking and having done a reasonable amount of therapy myself in life (as do we all, or most, especially in seminary). I think more often it's, 'Oh, look at the time. When shall we schedule the next appointment? See you then.'
And you walk out the door with your guts still leaking out. Or perhaps even wondering what that other, relative stranger of a person, even thought. (So often therapy is done on the 'blank slate' model, which I'm not convinced is consistently helpful either).
I'm cynical enough in general to think that this is the 'perfect' financially secure therapist-client relationship: if I open you up and leave you hanging, you might get a little better, but not much. And the big, dark world will feel even more scary perhaps--so you'll come running back to me. And I can keep billing.
I think this is another example of what Dr. Moore and Dr. Edgerton so frequently refer to as 'pseudo-therapy:' I pretend to be a therapist, and you pretend to get better.'
Restoration after revelation, especially of the deep wounds, I think is so critical to pastoral care. Even moreso perhaps than in regular one-on-one therapy. The therapist is a 'stranger' in a different world; the pastor is part of the spiritual community in which you participate intimately. If the pastor doesn't restore before the end of the visit, how can that person be restored to the community? Will that person see themselves, and communicate themselves (perhaps unconsciously, or in anxiety) as 'the sick one?' And once you're labeled as sick, it's hard to be given room to be transformed into the role of 'healed and whole one.' I see it all the time, whether physical, mental, or emotional, and so on.
Maybe that is pseudo-ministry...
For example, I have a dear friend who experienced incest during childhood and has since for years been in regular therapy. She tells me that afterwards, she's really 'out of commission' for quite a while before being able to resume her usual daily life activity. But, she also really relies on this therapist and goes back again and again.
I love my friend, and I'm not entirely convinced she's being helped by this therapist.
Therapy, I think, is tricky. In fifty minutes, you have to create the safe space in which a person can completely open up their deepest hurts and probe them--and then get 'put back together again' before walking out the door.
I think the first part usually happens, but I'm not so sure the second part does--generally speaking and having done a reasonable amount of therapy myself in life (as do we all, or most, especially in seminary). I think more often it's, 'Oh, look at the time. When shall we schedule the next appointment? See you then.'
And you walk out the door with your guts still leaking out. Or perhaps even wondering what that other, relative stranger of a person, even thought. (So often therapy is done on the 'blank slate' model, which I'm not convinced is consistently helpful either).
I'm cynical enough in general to think that this is the 'perfect' financially secure therapist-client relationship: if I open you up and leave you hanging, you might get a little better, but not much. And the big, dark world will feel even more scary perhaps--so you'll come running back to me. And I can keep billing.
I think this is another example of what Dr. Moore and Dr. Edgerton so frequently refer to as 'pseudo-therapy:' I pretend to be a therapist, and you pretend to get better.'
Restoration after revelation, especially of the deep wounds, I think is so critical to pastoral care. Even moreso perhaps than in regular one-on-one therapy. The therapist is a 'stranger' in a different world; the pastor is part of the spiritual community in which you participate intimately. If the pastor doesn't restore before the end of the visit, how can that person be restored to the community? Will that person see themselves, and communicate themselves (perhaps unconsciously, or in anxiety) as 'the sick one?' And once you're labeled as sick, it's hard to be given room to be transformed into the role of 'healed and whole one.' I see it all the time, whether physical, mental, or emotional, and so on.
Maybe that is pseudo-ministry...
Ritual Containment
One of the terms that we hear around here a lot is 'ritual containment.' One of its meanings is that if you are going to take people into an emotionally profound or intense place, you need to have a 'container,' or process, by which you lead them into it _and_ lead them out of it. This can be done through words, music, or even physical space or elements. It happens, or at least needs to happen a lot in worship. It is the creation of a space of trust, really.
If it doesn't happen, and you do want to get people into that emotionally deep well or space, either of two things may happen: it will 'explode,' and/or drown the people involved, leaking over and overwhelming lives and communities; or it will simply convince people to stay safely on the surface and 'not go there with you.'
After preaching class today, I remembered back to times when I've heard male preachers preach on domestic violence or abuse. I think they thought it was the progressive ministerial male thing to do. However, one ought not preach on something they don't want to be involved in later. I saw that when women would take their preaching seriously and approach them later, thinking 'this is a pastor who might actually understand and try to help me,' those preachers didn't help. They didn't even respond. They really could not have cared less, it seemed.
This was poor ritual containment.
It also occurred to me that I have a 'ritual containment' flow to my week, for which I am grateful. I love preaching class and laugh reasonably often, but I also usually leave kind of emotionally raw. We talk about hard things in there, not least of which is the text of the rape of Tamar a classmate is doing (she also works as a crisis counselor downtown). It can be for me the feeling of having my insides scraped out. So, in and of itself, it would be hard for me to leave this class and er, go forth in joy. But, afterwards, I have storytelling workshop, run by David Reese, and this can be a little cathartic--more laughter, more space to emote in whichever way we are led that particular session. It's been fun, although also a little roller-coaster-ish. Then I have a few hours before Theories of Change. This is good, because by that time in the day, I could use a little psychological technical talk about the bigger picture understanding how we respond to events in life. At the same time though, it is also rather cerebral--moreso than my beloved Psychopathology and Theology class last term (we got more real-life discussion crammed in then). Wednesday daytime is a pretty cerebral/detached day too, not much time to apply and process things, although with a break for Chapel and Community Lunch--both of which I find I really need. But, if I ended the day (and the school-week), I'd be kind of hurting.
So, I have found that the Systematics class I sit in on,(I had a year of systematics already, which I also enjoyed, at the Lutheran seminary) primary texts being the 'Institutes of the Christian Faith,' by John Calvin, to be absolutely essential for bringing the week to a close and pulling everything (and my own self) back together. We laugh a lot, despite/because of Calvin; and we also talk about big picture things that really matter, in ways that really connect. And I desperately need that. I sleep better afterwards. I feel less unhinged by the deadly seriousness of the topics at hand and their real implications for life. And sometimes I think it's even Calvin's own insanity that makes me put my own into better perspective.
This 'weekly crisis' resolved, several of us head over to the university pub afterwards. It's like the shabbat; peace and rest at the end of the work of the faithful.
If it doesn't happen, and you do want to get people into that emotionally deep well or space, either of two things may happen: it will 'explode,' and/or drown the people involved, leaking over and overwhelming lives and communities; or it will simply convince people to stay safely on the surface and 'not go there with you.'
After preaching class today, I remembered back to times when I've heard male preachers preach on domestic violence or abuse. I think they thought it was the progressive ministerial male thing to do. However, one ought not preach on something they don't want to be involved in later. I saw that when women would take their preaching seriously and approach them later, thinking 'this is a pastor who might actually understand and try to help me,' those preachers didn't help. They didn't even respond. They really could not have cared less, it seemed.
This was poor ritual containment.
It also occurred to me that I have a 'ritual containment' flow to my week, for which I am grateful. I love preaching class and laugh reasonably often, but I also usually leave kind of emotionally raw. We talk about hard things in there, not least of which is the text of the rape of Tamar a classmate is doing (she also works as a crisis counselor downtown). It can be for me the feeling of having my insides scraped out. So, in and of itself, it would be hard for me to leave this class and er, go forth in joy. But, afterwards, I have storytelling workshop, run by David Reese, and this can be a little cathartic--more laughter, more space to emote in whichever way we are led that particular session. It's been fun, although also a little roller-coaster-ish. Then I have a few hours before Theories of Change. This is good, because by that time in the day, I could use a little psychological technical talk about the bigger picture understanding how we respond to events in life. At the same time though, it is also rather cerebral--moreso than my beloved Psychopathology and Theology class last term (we got more real-life discussion crammed in then). Wednesday daytime is a pretty cerebral/detached day too, not much time to apply and process things, although with a break for Chapel and Community Lunch--both of which I find I really need. But, if I ended the day (and the school-week), I'd be kind of hurting.
So, I have found that the Systematics class I sit in on,(I had a year of systematics already, which I also enjoyed, at the Lutheran seminary) primary texts being the 'Institutes of the Christian Faith,' by John Calvin, to be absolutely essential for bringing the week to a close and pulling everything (and my own self) back together. We laugh a lot, despite/because of Calvin; and we also talk about big picture things that really matter, in ways that really connect. And I desperately need that. I sleep better afterwards. I feel less unhinged by the deadly seriousness of the topics at hand and their real implications for life. And sometimes I think it's even Calvin's own insanity that makes me put my own into better perspective.
This 'weekly crisis' resolved, several of us head over to the university pub afterwards. It's like the shabbat; peace and rest at the end of the work of the faithful.
Monday, March 12, 2007
On Civil Disobedience and Jail
So, part of that Middler Review process asks what I think I need in order to prepare for the ministry before I am graduated and ordained.
I responded that I think I need to spend some time in jail.
I do, actually, think that this would be a very important part of my spiritual formation. For many reasons: I have issues with guilt, shame, 'good,' 'bad' and punishment. These are issues I had resolved as a peacenik in a war zone, protesting structures of oppression and namely, that time I got thrown out of Coalition Headquarters by the U.S. army guards, but redeveloped in sadly serious ways once I got to seminary. Obedience and submission for the sake of success and approval by people in authority is an ethic I need to get worked out of my system.
I also know that the most powerful, stick-with-me spiritual narratives are 'Letter from a Birmingham Jail,' by MLK Jr., and 'Letters and Papers from Prison,' by Bonhoeffer, and 'Every Land Has Dreams: From Baghdad to Pekin Prison,' by Kathy Kelly.
I also know that my colleagues and mentors in the peace movement have all spent significant amounts of time in prison, and that I have seen my future calling to be one including probably 2-3 years accumulated time in prison.
I also think that now is a good time for me to give a few months to prison witness. It means that I am not indispensable, which would be something I would feel more pressure about if I were out in the parish, or even in a Ph.D. program--paths that are to be explored all too soon. And as I stand accused gently by my deans as 'overfunctioning,' (being workaholic), stepping out of the busyness may be a very good spiritual discipline for me. Though, Dow (my advisor) says, I probably would devise ways of being just as busy once I got to jail!
I kind of think I shouldn't be allowed to be ordained without this prison time. [Actually, I would tend to say that no one should be allowed to graduate a seminary today without an arrest record and a well-worn passport. But I digress].
So, these are some of my very many reasons for pursuing civil disobedience and jail. I responded with these, and then my advisor asked, 'But what do you want to go to jail *for*? On whose behalf? For what cause?' I had forgotten to begin at the beginning, because I thought he already would have known my answers. oops.
So, briefly: to protest the war and militarism and torture. I have done civil disobedience for all these things before, but have somehow not been arrested. But, that may change. I will travel this weekend to the Christian Peace Witness for Iraq in Washington, DC, where with several other seminary students, will be risking arrest during an overnight vigil. Over 700 people will be risking arrest with us.
Then, to join the Occupation Project in congresspeople's offices to get them to support an end to financing the Iraq war. That will probably be sometime the next week.
Then, there will be some time to consider that which I have been thinking of since 1999--which would be crossing the line at the School of the Americas at Ft. Benning, GA. [This place has been shown to be responsible for torture throughout the world]. I am watching carefully to see what happens with this year's prisoners of conscience. And talking to my presbytery. And my seminary. It could put my graduation back a semester or year. However, I have a good supportive community in which to go through this now. And I am speeding through the process much more quickly than originally planned. I do not have all the answers now, and probably will not come to a final decision until late November before the protest.
In the meantime, if ending this reflection abruptly, I have books to hit and student sermons to write and student newspapers to edit...
I responded that I think I need to spend some time in jail.
I do, actually, think that this would be a very important part of my spiritual formation. For many reasons: I have issues with guilt, shame, 'good,' 'bad' and punishment. These are issues I had resolved as a peacenik in a war zone, protesting structures of oppression and namely, that time I got thrown out of Coalition Headquarters by the U.S. army guards, but redeveloped in sadly serious ways once I got to seminary. Obedience and submission for the sake of success and approval by people in authority is an ethic I need to get worked out of my system.
I also know that the most powerful, stick-with-me spiritual narratives are 'Letter from a Birmingham Jail,' by MLK Jr., and 'Letters and Papers from Prison,' by Bonhoeffer, and 'Every Land Has Dreams: From Baghdad to Pekin Prison,' by Kathy Kelly.
I also know that my colleagues and mentors in the peace movement have all spent significant amounts of time in prison, and that I have seen my future calling to be one including probably 2-3 years accumulated time in prison.
I also think that now is a good time for me to give a few months to prison witness. It means that I am not indispensable, which would be something I would feel more pressure about if I were out in the parish, or even in a Ph.D. program--paths that are to be explored all too soon. And as I stand accused gently by my deans as 'overfunctioning,' (being workaholic), stepping out of the busyness may be a very good spiritual discipline for me. Though, Dow (my advisor) says, I probably would devise ways of being just as busy once I got to jail!
I kind of think I shouldn't be allowed to be ordained without this prison time. [Actually, I would tend to say that no one should be allowed to graduate a seminary today without an arrest record and a well-worn passport. But I digress].
So, these are some of my very many reasons for pursuing civil disobedience and jail. I responded with these, and then my advisor asked, 'But what do you want to go to jail *for*? On whose behalf? For what cause?' I had forgotten to begin at the beginning, because I thought he already would have known my answers. oops.
So, briefly: to protest the war and militarism and torture. I have done civil disobedience for all these things before, but have somehow not been arrested. But, that may change. I will travel this weekend to the Christian Peace Witness for Iraq in Washington, DC, where with several other seminary students, will be risking arrest during an overnight vigil. Over 700 people will be risking arrest with us.
Then, to join the Occupation Project in congresspeople's offices to get them to support an end to financing the Iraq war. That will probably be sometime the next week.
Then, there will be some time to consider that which I have been thinking of since 1999--which would be crossing the line at the School of the Americas at Ft. Benning, GA. [This place has been shown to be responsible for torture throughout the world]. I am watching carefully to see what happens with this year's prisoners of conscience. And talking to my presbytery. And my seminary. It could put my graduation back a semester or year. However, I have a good supportive community in which to go through this now. And I am speeding through the process much more quickly than originally planned. I do not have all the answers now, and probably will not come to a final decision until late November before the protest.
In the meantime, if ending this reflection abruptly, I have books to hit and student sermons to write and student newspapers to edit...
Middler Review
At seminary, I'm in the middle of a process called the 'Middler Review.'
It means I am halfway or so to graduation. Really, a year away and all the ducks need to be in a row, so now is a good time to fix them.
Middler Review. Reviewing one's middle. Navel-gazing?
I'm having the hardest time with this thing. I've spent all month thinking about it. Actually, I take that back a little. I've spent all month pondering the questions it raises about spiritual and ministerial formation, and have found its format of a list of questions and a survey to be kind of helpful for framing that ponderance.
My advisor assures me it's nothing to worry about. Of course, with all my searching questions and perhaps even whining, maybe that will change. But he's a pretty patient and wise man. I probably would not have survived so far in this new school, or in recovering from bad experiences at past schools, with any less. This is a paragraph of immense appreciation.
A lot of questions I have right now have to deal with worthiness, or my perceived lack of it. This comes mostly from a long history of hurts, and hurtful words, and my tendency to believe hurtful words as more truthful than the encouraging ones. This probably makes me a raving paranoid lunatic. Then again, we know Luther, at least from the recent movie, was also a raving paranoid lunatic. Where he stands ahead of me on this struggle, is recognizing that these words are probably of Satan. They still must be wrestled with and examined for glimpses of truth, or at least to keep one's enemies close at hand; but I cannot let them rule my life.
The things I feel most compelled to do with my life are wierd. Maybe because I am wierd. Maybe that is really okay, even if it ruffles other people's feathers.
Dr. Moore said last week that if you show any promise as a young leader, chances are, people who you might hope to be mentors to you are not as likely to be mentors and help you as they are to try and 'kill' you. This bears out in a lot of my experience, and the rejection has been so painful that for me that it has influenced my own self-destructive behaviors and attitudes. So while I am in my current spiritual restlessness, I'm trying to work that through. Dr. Moore, fortunately for me, has so far been for me also very patient and wise, more mentor than 'child-killer.' Another paragraph of immense appreciation.
Jesus said, 'it is better that a millstone be hung around your neck and you be dropped into the sea, than that you become a barrier to these little ones.'
Jesus sure wasn't mincing words that time.
I do think it's strange that in nearly all my seminary experience, it has been older straight white men who have been my best mentors and encouragers and cheerleaders and get me out of hellish situation-ers. It seems a little un-PC even, but hey, whatever works. Perhaps this is a positive outcome of the women's movement, that would not have happened a generation ago. Or maybe I've just been blessed. Not that all straight older white male faculty have been that great; not that there hasn't been a few women--though strangely, the ones without much power themselves. And as I've written before, it's been my experience nearly across the board that the greatest obstacles to me as a young woman entering the ministry are not men, but women who are already in ministry. I can only think of one or two that haven't been like that. But that's for another time and another writing. A lot of writing.
It means I am halfway or so to graduation. Really, a year away and all the ducks need to be in a row, so now is a good time to fix them.
Middler Review. Reviewing one's middle. Navel-gazing?
I'm having the hardest time with this thing. I've spent all month thinking about it. Actually, I take that back a little. I've spent all month pondering the questions it raises about spiritual and ministerial formation, and have found its format of a list of questions and a survey to be kind of helpful for framing that ponderance.
My advisor assures me it's nothing to worry about. Of course, with all my searching questions and perhaps even whining, maybe that will change. But he's a pretty patient and wise man. I probably would not have survived so far in this new school, or in recovering from bad experiences at past schools, with any less. This is a paragraph of immense appreciation.
A lot of questions I have right now have to deal with worthiness, or my perceived lack of it. This comes mostly from a long history of hurts, and hurtful words, and my tendency to believe hurtful words as more truthful than the encouraging ones. This probably makes me a raving paranoid lunatic. Then again, we know Luther, at least from the recent movie, was also a raving paranoid lunatic. Where he stands ahead of me on this struggle, is recognizing that these words are probably of Satan. They still must be wrestled with and examined for glimpses of truth, or at least to keep one's enemies close at hand; but I cannot let them rule my life.
The things I feel most compelled to do with my life are wierd. Maybe because I am wierd. Maybe that is really okay, even if it ruffles other people's feathers.
Dr. Moore said last week that if you show any promise as a young leader, chances are, people who you might hope to be mentors to you are not as likely to be mentors and help you as they are to try and 'kill' you. This bears out in a lot of my experience, and the rejection has been so painful that for me that it has influenced my own self-destructive behaviors and attitudes. So while I am in my current spiritual restlessness, I'm trying to work that through. Dr. Moore, fortunately for me, has so far been for me also very patient and wise, more mentor than 'child-killer.' Another paragraph of immense appreciation.
Jesus said, 'it is better that a millstone be hung around your neck and you be dropped into the sea, than that you become a barrier to these little ones.'
Jesus sure wasn't mincing words that time.
I do think it's strange that in nearly all my seminary experience, it has been older straight white men who have been my best mentors and encouragers and cheerleaders and get me out of hellish situation-ers. It seems a little un-PC even, but hey, whatever works. Perhaps this is a positive outcome of the women's movement, that would not have happened a generation ago. Or maybe I've just been blessed. Not that all straight older white male faculty have been that great; not that there hasn't been a few women--though strangely, the ones without much power themselves. And as I've written before, it's been my experience nearly across the board that the greatest obstacles to me as a young woman entering the ministry are not men, but women who are already in ministry. I can only think of one or two that haven't been like that. But that's for another time and another writing. A lot of writing.
On Celibacy and Partnership
Recently, a dear friend of mine started challenging me on my professed interest in celibacy. For those of you who know me, I stopped dating quite some time ago and have been researching women's monastic orders quite intently since. I have one in particular I love, the Benedictine Women of Madison, but they are a 'stable' order (meaning you never leave, as opposed to a 'missionary' order where you get to travel around a lot)--and I don't think I can remain in rural Madison the rest of my life. Other orders which I love would welcome me as an oblate but not as a full professed sister, since I would choose to remain Presbyterian and be a clergywoman. The women themselves in the orders love this, but tend to get in trouble for such things. So...the search continues.
I have a long list of reasons why I do not want to submit to the paradigm of responsible and/or natural and/or normal womanhood. In fact, I have about 120 pages of reasons and explorations and discussions on why I might think celibacy is a good idea for my life. These range from the kind of high-risk peace work I am in love with doing, to the just kind of lack of interest in general, to systems of domination and oppression with women, to the sheer joy I have when I am in and around monastic orders, which I have never felt anything near when in the company of a prospective life-partner, to solidarity with queer friends who aren't allowed to marry, to the fact that when I get home at the end of the day I don't want to be responsible for anyone else. And getting tired of explaining so carefully what I really cared about in life to potential life partners, who consistently said they were supportive of my calling in life--and then would try to pressure me out of those things, thinking their love was an acceptable substitute. It wasn't. It never was. And I think our world is still designed for women to follow men and not the other way around, and perhaps a few generations from now that will change, but as I look around at all my female friends who do this kind of stuff--not a one has been able to break that pattern. And I confess that in terms of partering and reproductive interest I may have simply been born wired differently, or just wierd. So...when I have maybe 180 pages stored up, I'll find someone to publish it.
I do believe, however, that it is not good for a human to remain alone. If you are going to commit to celibacy, you still need human community, family, and contact. I know that while in the midst of war zones in heavily gender-segregated areas, my skin would start to 'scream' for lack of contact. This wasn't really a sexual thing, but a reassurance thing--I needed hugs and couldn't get them. I needed also reassurance in the face of death that I was very much alive. Also, sexual harassment skyrockets in the face of physical violence when social structures break down, and I needed some sort of restorative human embodiment. It got me asking questions like, Is a body created good of its own accord? or just as an object to be exploited by others? Must people exploit each other's bodies, or is there hope for another way? There's probably a lot more I could write about that, but will do so later. I do think that exploitation happens as a result of isolation and trauma--for example, even human rights workers will try to exploit colleagues for sexual gratification after being in a war zone too long. I was all too aware of that while I was doing field work. Maybe it is true of priests also--that they used to live several priests to a house in community, but now they are so isolated that maybe that's how they get into trouble, that they are not 'pedophiles' in the first place but it goes downhill from there. But I don't really know, I just wonder. So, I do think that you cannot take a vow of celibacy without also a commitment and participation in community. Celibacy, perhaps ironically, is something that you can't go alone.
But, I notice this past month I have been in a state of profound spiritual restlessness. Everything, not just this area of life, is called into question and I'm not sleeping well for the first time in many months. That also is fodder for another long reflection another time. But this area of my life is called into question also. I am honored to know some really wonderful friends right now. Even a few I would consider dating, actually, although it would be a tough road for all the reasons I listed above and more. One other reason is that there are other friends who have expressed interest in a relationship earlier in the year, who would not take 'no' for an answer of itself, and to begin dating anyone might be rather awkward with them. It might require a different level of strength than I am used to asserting, since I usually am most concerned with not breaking or straining relationships if it can be avoided in any way. Still, I already know that I have to find my 'no,' not just to respond to these guys, but to anyone who wants to transgress my boundaries in any area of life.
Is it possible for me, hearing the call to which I feel most called, to still find an appropriate life-partner? One who would be a true partner in the work of peacemaking in the places in the world most in need of peace? Who would not try ultimately to make me choose? Who would accept that I probably still don't want to have my own children? [I do really like the idea of foster-parenting teens who are about to age out of the system, get them into college, etc. For many reasons, that appeals.] But it would, really, have to be a partner in the work, first and foremost. The rest, as they say, is just details.
All of my women heroes are either nuns or otherwise unmarried. Mostly nuns, the women I really want to model my life after. One was married to another peace activist, but was 'amicably divorced' because the calling was so much stronger. I'd rather not put anyone through a divorce, though.
Another friend, who himself is in a long-term relationship, encourages me to go ahead and start the ecumenical monastic women's order that I am seeking after. He assures me it is not too grandiose or insane. I am thinking much about this also.
And finally, one of my greatest heroes, a nun who's over eighty now, told me that even when she knew she was going to be a nun at a given point in life, still dated. I think she said she thought it made her a better person. And it was fun, too.
So many things to ponder...and so much time, really, to ponder them...
I have a long list of reasons why I do not want to submit to the paradigm of responsible and/or natural and/or normal womanhood. In fact, I have about 120 pages of reasons and explorations and discussions on why I might think celibacy is a good idea for my life. These range from the kind of high-risk peace work I am in love with doing, to the just kind of lack of interest in general, to systems of domination and oppression with women, to the sheer joy I have when I am in and around monastic orders, which I have never felt anything near when in the company of a prospective life-partner, to solidarity with queer friends who aren't allowed to marry, to the fact that when I get home at the end of the day I don't want to be responsible for anyone else. And getting tired of explaining so carefully what I really cared about in life to potential life partners, who consistently said they were supportive of my calling in life--and then would try to pressure me out of those things, thinking their love was an acceptable substitute. It wasn't. It never was. And I think our world is still designed for women to follow men and not the other way around, and perhaps a few generations from now that will change, but as I look around at all my female friends who do this kind of stuff--not a one has been able to break that pattern. And I confess that in terms of partering and reproductive interest I may have simply been born wired differently, or just wierd. So...when I have maybe 180 pages stored up, I'll find someone to publish it.
I do believe, however, that it is not good for a human to remain alone. If you are going to commit to celibacy, you still need human community, family, and contact. I know that while in the midst of war zones in heavily gender-segregated areas, my skin would start to 'scream' for lack of contact. This wasn't really a sexual thing, but a reassurance thing--I needed hugs and couldn't get them. I needed also reassurance in the face of death that I was very much alive. Also, sexual harassment skyrockets in the face of physical violence when social structures break down, and I needed some sort of restorative human embodiment. It got me asking questions like, Is a body created good of its own accord? or just as an object to be exploited by others? Must people exploit each other's bodies, or is there hope for another way? There's probably a lot more I could write about that, but will do so later. I do think that exploitation happens as a result of isolation and trauma--for example, even human rights workers will try to exploit colleagues for sexual gratification after being in a war zone too long. I was all too aware of that while I was doing field work. Maybe it is true of priests also--that they used to live several priests to a house in community, but now they are so isolated that maybe that's how they get into trouble, that they are not 'pedophiles' in the first place but it goes downhill from there. But I don't really know, I just wonder. So, I do think that you cannot take a vow of celibacy without also a commitment and participation in community. Celibacy, perhaps ironically, is something that you can't go alone.
But, I notice this past month I have been in a state of profound spiritual restlessness. Everything, not just this area of life, is called into question and I'm not sleeping well for the first time in many months. That also is fodder for another long reflection another time. But this area of my life is called into question also. I am honored to know some really wonderful friends right now. Even a few I would consider dating, actually, although it would be a tough road for all the reasons I listed above and more. One other reason is that there are other friends who have expressed interest in a relationship earlier in the year, who would not take 'no' for an answer of itself, and to begin dating anyone might be rather awkward with them. It might require a different level of strength than I am used to asserting, since I usually am most concerned with not breaking or straining relationships if it can be avoided in any way. Still, I already know that I have to find my 'no,' not just to respond to these guys, but to anyone who wants to transgress my boundaries in any area of life.
Is it possible for me, hearing the call to which I feel most called, to still find an appropriate life-partner? One who would be a true partner in the work of peacemaking in the places in the world most in need of peace? Who would not try ultimately to make me choose? Who would accept that I probably still don't want to have my own children? [I do really like the idea of foster-parenting teens who are about to age out of the system, get them into college, etc. For many reasons, that appeals.] But it would, really, have to be a partner in the work, first and foremost. The rest, as they say, is just details.
All of my women heroes are either nuns or otherwise unmarried. Mostly nuns, the women I really want to model my life after. One was married to another peace activist, but was 'amicably divorced' because the calling was so much stronger. I'd rather not put anyone through a divorce, though.
Another friend, who himself is in a long-term relationship, encourages me to go ahead and start the ecumenical monastic women's order that I am seeking after. He assures me it is not too grandiose or insane. I am thinking much about this also.
And finally, one of my greatest heroes, a nun who's over eighty now, told me that even when she knew she was going to be a nun at a given point in life, still dated. I think she said she thought it made her a better person. And it was fun, too.
So many things to ponder...and so much time, really, to ponder them...
Friday, March 09, 2007
The IKEA Theory of Evil
In systematics this week, we discussed theodicy, or approaches to why there is evil in the world. The question usually gets set up about this way:
1. God is good
2. God is all-powerful
3. Evil exists.
This is how I deal with the question of theodicy, or the 'IKEA theory':
In the beginning, before God furnished his apartment, emptiness covered the floors and walls. There was no furniture. God drove to IKEA and purchased several boxes. The boxes were good, and economical also.
It took God six days, but eventually God emptied the boxes on the floor, located the allen wrenches, and assembled the furniture. God assembled chair and end table, bed and couch, table and desk. And God called it good, hip even, and on the seventh day, God rested.
Only, there were pieces left over. Pieces that, despite God's best efforts, could not be matched with any of the furnishings or instruction manuals. (These were the days before tech support). No good account could be given for the leftover pieces. Although God had good will and was mighty and powerful, to force the pieces into the furniture might only have caused more damage.
It came to pass that God invited friends over. God gave them the tour of the entire pad, but warned them to be careful on the furniture.
Yet, temptation won over and many beverages were consumed. Perhaps it was table dancing that ensued. The break in creation was pressed; and there was a great fall.
Has God, and us, been searching for the instruction books, tech support, and allen wrenches ever since?
1. God is good
2. God is all-powerful
3. Evil exists.
This is how I deal with the question of theodicy, or the 'IKEA theory':
In the beginning, before God furnished his apartment, emptiness covered the floors and walls. There was no furniture. God drove to IKEA and purchased several boxes. The boxes were good, and economical also.
It took God six days, but eventually God emptied the boxes on the floor, located the allen wrenches, and assembled the furniture. God assembled chair and end table, bed and couch, table and desk. And God called it good, hip even, and on the seventh day, God rested.
Only, there were pieces left over. Pieces that, despite God's best efforts, could not be matched with any of the furnishings or instruction manuals. (These were the days before tech support). No good account could be given for the leftover pieces. Although God had good will and was mighty and powerful, to force the pieces into the furniture might only have caused more damage.
It came to pass that God invited friends over. God gave them the tour of the entire pad, but warned them to be careful on the furniture.
Yet, temptation won over and many beverages were consumed. Perhaps it was table dancing that ensued. The break in creation was pressed; and there was a great fall.
Has God, and us, been searching for the instruction books, tech support, and allen wrenches ever since?
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Editorial on LGBTQ Dialogue
From the Editor--
This past Thursday, students from the six seminaries in Hyde Park gathered at the Divinity School to listen to the experiences of LGBTQ students. We heard joys and struggles of being in the class-room, finding equal-rights housing, of administrative response, of fitting in with classmates. We heard about candidacy committees and denominational policies. We heard about being ‘tolerated’ instead of fully welcomed. We heard about being the parent of a child coming out in a church that isn’t welcoming. We heard about long, complex spiritual journeys and hope for the future.
On this issue that mattered to all of us in that place, we gathered and met and were strengthened by one another’s presence. We were also generously plied with enough pizza for a small army. People came and went as classes and responsibilities required. Our vibrant conversation filled the scheduled time and spilled over as we filtered out of the room.
This was Something Important. It’s not often that students from across the neighborhood come together or talk together or have authentic conversations with one another about our differences and our common causes. This was a Beginning. Our hope is to continue these conversations--not just as LGBTQ seminarians and allies working together, but bringing even more people to the table to talk about the other things that concern us. We’d like to have a forum to understand the experiences of seminarians with disabilities. We’d like to talk about race relations and interreligious issues--hands on, and not just in theory. We’d like to work together on service projects and connecting with the communities around us. We’d like to explore the possibilities--and you are welcome to join us.
Thanks to everyone who spoke, listened, ate, and organized this week’s forum. We couldn’t have done it without you!
Le Anne Clausen
This past Thursday, students from the six seminaries in Hyde Park gathered at the Divinity School to listen to the experiences of LGBTQ students. We heard joys and struggles of being in the class-room, finding equal-rights housing, of administrative response, of fitting in with classmates. We heard about candidacy committees and denominational policies. We heard about being ‘tolerated’ instead of fully welcomed. We heard about being the parent of a child coming out in a church that isn’t welcoming. We heard about long, complex spiritual journeys and hope for the future.
On this issue that mattered to all of us in that place, we gathered and met and were strengthened by one another’s presence. We were also generously plied with enough pizza for a small army. People came and went as classes and responsibilities required. Our vibrant conversation filled the scheduled time and spilled over as we filtered out of the room.
This was Something Important. It’s not often that students from across the neighborhood come together or talk together or have authentic conversations with one another about our differences and our common causes. This was a Beginning. Our hope is to continue these conversations--not just as LGBTQ seminarians and allies working together, but bringing even more people to the table to talk about the other things that concern us. We’d like to have a forum to understand the experiences of seminarians with disabilities. We’d like to talk about race relations and interreligious issues--hands on, and not just in theory. We’d like to work together on service projects and connecting with the communities around us. We’d like to explore the possibilities--and you are welcome to join us.
Thanks to everyone who spoke, listened, ate, and organized this week’s forum. We couldn’t have done it without you!
Le Anne Clausen
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