Last Friday, I conducted the first (that I know of) inter-seminary Student Leadership Event. It went far better than I had hoped. We had enough food, enough participants, enough to do. We even figured out how to run technology in McGiffert. Folks seemed excited and ready to get more involved. I had been so nervous that nobody would come; it turned out that everyone registered in the last two days. Okay, I can live with that.

In some ways, it felt like one of the International Solidarity Movement trainings I used to lead in the West Bank and Gaza. True, we didn’t have bombs and gunfire outside, but rather there was an air of expectation, and a sort of delight in discovering common cause. People were trusting of one another, and curious. They were eager to do something that they hadn’t seen before. That’s hopeful.

I had been worried because so many of the folks who were involved in SeminaryAction last year graduated. Perhaps it was because they saw in their final year of seminary how important it would be to them in their first calls to be able to relate to people of other religious backgrounds. I got to thinking about this after going to a McCormick retreat and hearing one of the students talk about how she was going to spend as much time with other McCormick students this year, because it was going to be so lonely next year. True, when you get out into the parish you won’t be surrounded by all these other Presbyterian or UCC or Lutheran clergy, like if you came from a denominational seminary. But, if you could talk to folks from other schools, you might be a little less lonely and a little more able to relate to the clergy around you.

I’ve been meeting with potential donors this past week, and also with people working in foundations that just would like to help with advice. I’m open to all of it. I feel like there’s so much to learn in building this organization and running a fundraising campaign. It’s encouraging though to hear what they have to say, enough so that I ought to schedule one such meeting every week. It’ll keep me going when things get discouraging. Sure, faith will keep me going too, but I wouldn’t underestimate the usefulness of lots of mentoring.

I went to a Session (church council) meeting tonight. It was interesting to watch the personality and decision-making dynamics in the room, although it got kind of old after two hours. We still had another hour to go. I tried to talk a little, but I think folks were mostly pretty tired. Also, there was one disturbing moment, when I brought up a volunteer program that wanted to move into the neighborhood and just wanted a church home—no financial support or anything. One of the session members said, “We are too small to think about such things." They also have started discouraging university students from coming to volunteer at the church, saying it’s not worth having to open the church and turn on the lights.

It may be that they are tired. But I worry that a church so small and who says they want to grow is turning away eager young adults. Sure, it’s a logistical hassle. Perhaps we can find a volunteer coordinator with more energy and willingness to help. Perhaps it could be another young adult.

These days I have lively global hymns running through my head, with energizing beats. I think I run them through my head in order to counter the gloominess of our worship services. The new music director has been helpful; he plays a little faster on the organ than our previous musician. And he’s heard other beautiful forms of worship music, and understands blending services rather than having an all-contemporary or all-traditional. I think our congregation will enjoy them. I hope to find a way to introduce them.

Overwhelm

Overwhelm.

I’ve come to realize it’s not a bad word. It’s not an indicator of incompetence. It’s just an emotional response to being put in a big new situation. Actually, I kind of welcome the feeling. Frankly, much of seminary has left me ‘underwhelmed,’ except for times when things have gone badly. I am ready to have my world shaken up a bit in new ways. Nothing’s really felt too new and challenging since Baghdad…

Yet here I am, at last, in a parish and in an organization, doing what I have wanted to do as a seminarian for so long, and waiting for ‘permission’ to do it until now. That alone is overwhelming.

I started working at the soup kitchen this week. My role is to pray for the group before we eat, and then sit and visit with the people while they eat. I wear a collar when I’m doing this, and most folks there are surprised to see a ‘lady priest.’ I explain I’m Presbyterian. Most of them grew up in Catholic schools. Sometimes they were asking me questions like if it was alright to get married after a divorce; other times they just talked about life growing up, and other times they just asked if I’d watch their stuff for a minute while they got seconds. I noticed that there wasn’t much talk about life as it was right now—on the street. Only about how they got there, where they hoped to be later, and questions about where I grew up and how I got to be a ‘lady priest.’

One of the young men I was chatting with, we spoke for about half an hour. At that time, a retired man who runs the food program, called me over for a minute. He cautioned me that the man I was talking to was a convicted sex offender. I was a bit startled by this. But, I thanked him for the heads-up and walked back over to visit with the man again. I wonder if I would have been able to talk with this guy and hear his story if I’d known from the start about his background? Would I have been too distrustful?


A night or two later, I had the opportunity to take a walk through our neighborhood from McCormick housing to GlobalServe quite late. Word spreads quickly, or, perhaps memories are long. I saw some of the guys from the food program, and also some of the guys I’ve given money to in the past. These guys, I’d never really talked to before. I figured in part they didn’t want to be bothered, and I also confess perhaps then I didn’t want to be bothered. However, tonight was different. We had some real conversations. I got to know names. Some asked for change and others looked like they would never ask me for change again. We talked about life on the streets, and life as a ministry student. I still got home to bed at a not-ridiculous hour.

I wonder if I should tell other folks about this experience. I wonder if I’ll get in trouble for it, since 'nice seminarians wouldn’t be out on the streets at all hours,' or something like that. I wonder how many seminarians really have ever spent much time with the street people. I wonder if I shouldn’t have shelved SeminaryAction for the year and done the Night Ministry instead. I wonder…

The Healing Circle

The Healing Circle.

I realize this book is the festschrift for my professor in human rights ministry, who was herself a Presbyterian and a global activist and was imprisoned and tortured and scarred.

Healing.

These days I have been feeling healed, renewed, restored from past hurts in ministry and in seminary and in life; recently I have been able to forgive some pretty painful and previously scarring hurts and begin to reconcile relationships with those who hurt me. It was a clearing-out of sorts and a way to clear the road ahead for future ministries of reconciliation. Good practice, I guess. Actually, I think it was when I realized I was at a point where I could forgive these things without feeling diminished that it was indeed time to forgive.

At GlobalServe, our new co-op, we are down by two residents. One paid the deposit, but came up from Texas with her father and decided not to stay. I don’t know why, other than that our apartment is an older building with curiously-textured walls. The other was a space the seminary had us hold open for an international student who “was certain to come,” but didn’t. I am more frustrated about that one, having turned away people who could pay for an unfulfilled promise; and for the seminary leaving us to pay for something it couldn’t deliver. I was hoping recruitment would be done by now; it took some time and energy that I don’t have space for now that school has started. On the other hand, it is neat to meet all these folks interested in what we’re doing. It’s encouraging. I’d like to have them as partners along the path.

I am anxious about working with site supervisors this week, knowing that it’s hard enough for me to ask others to give me some of their time on a regular basis, knowing how crazy busy they are. One potential supervisor for SeminaryAction has promised his help, but I don’t know if he’ll be able to follow through. On the other hand, my supervising pastor likes my work with SeminaryAction and sees it as part of the wider ministry. So maybe that’s a supervisory relationship that will work. And frankly, I see SeminaryAction as tied into the work that I do at the church. It all connects. I hope it will keep doing so, and not begin to clash/jar/compete in any bad way. At minimum, I’ll need to keep a good calendar running. At worst, maybe I’ll need counseling when this is over.

Retreat in Lincoln Park

Retreat.

I’m remembering as we arrive that sometimes when you go on retreat you’re preparing to advance, so why not call it an ‘Advance?’ But, in the rather peaceful courtyard in front of St. Pauls Church (no apostrophe, due to German heritage), it feels like a small retreat in the city. I look over at Children’s Memorial next door and feel a certain sadness, that so many children could be so sick that you would need a hospital that large. Having done CPE in our hometown hospital, the largest of the region, we rarely had seriously ill children.

The neighborhood in general, and especially the interior of the church as I enter, challenge my assumptions about urban churches. I don’t expect them to be nicely decorated, with paint that’s firmly holding to the walls, or newer furniture. I don’t expect a ‘boardroom’ atmosphere to the room in which we’re gathering. I guess I know they exist; I’m just surprised it’s part of the CCT program, which I had taken to be more about mission to the poor and oppressed. Can the poor and oppressed find a home in this congregation? Perhaps I just don’t know.

Not to say that I don’t like the church—in fact, I've come to love the place pretty quickly. I am especially awed by the display board showing clippings about their devastating fire and rebuilding some fifty years ago at Christmas. That takes courage. I don’t know if my own field site would survive a fire. I worry about it from time to time.

I am nervous about the retreat; I am worried I’ll be pigeonholed into some personality category type and not be able to break free from that box. I had that happen once in group spiritual direction, and eventually left the group in order to heal; I guess to some extent it happened in CPE though I didn’t mind it so much—I knew it was a common experience, and other than this, the supervisor was a kind man. Supervisors have a lot of power. I’d like to work with seminarians in the future, but I want to make sure I don’t create boxes that suffocate them.


I hope this goes well.