Iran-o-rama and Sanctions?

I am wondering what Condoleeza Rice's declaration this morning of the sanctions against Iran will mean for my upcoming trip. Will we still get the visas and be allowed to go? It's an interfaith peacemaker delegation with Fellowship of Reconciliation. As some of you may know, it's been my hope to go to Iran since about five years now, and I'd been planning to go with Global Exchange in summer 2005 but the trip was cancelled. I'm going because I want to meet women and children and doctors and teachers and imams and maybe a government official or two, to know them as fellow human beings we shouldn't be trying to kill any more than anyone should be trying to kill us. After all, when I'm hanging out in my class in my little seminary across the street from a big university and the primary concerns in my head at that moment are when I get to go hang out with my friends next, or what we're doing for student government next, or maybe something about the Bible or theology or ethics---at that moment, I don't think of myself as an evil vicious person who wants others halfway across the planet to die. And I figure that's probably true for about 99% of the people just trying to live their daily lives in Iran. So, why not go and meet them face to face?

Confessions of a Lapsed blogger

Well, it's been a dang long time since I've written on this blog, I must confess. I had six comments though, only one was profane. Sorry dude, couldn't post it. But I did post your shorter comment, which only stated, "TERRORIST!"

I was thinking of whether I'd post critical comments, and remembered from my CPT days that they would usually post their hate mail along with their love mail as long as it wasn't obscene for public viewing.

So, where have I been? Well, I've been experimenting with workaholism and sleep deprivation and basically, my human finitude. I was doing a full course load while the Center for Faith and Peacemaking was expanding, and the opportunity for going to Iran and being accepted into a nonprofit management training program came up at the same time, and our new co-op in which I live was going through it's, um, logistical 'birth pangs.' So...I wasn't getting much sleep, and though it was all wonderful and good, it wasn't working well together and it was awkward trying to figure out what had to give. Finally, my dean's words (he is wise), helped me to find some closure and peace with a decision to drop two classes and pursue the opportunities that have presented themselves. If you're interested, he said, "In general, I affirm sleep. And, it's only one more semester [of my life]." And in all honesty, even if life opportunities fall through, I'm probably okay with that opportunity cost. And, my professors have generally been supportive.

So, more sleep now, and my brother came by to install a bookshelf which rocks my world (why can't I figure out these basic home-improvement tasks?) and gets lots of boxes off my floor, and allows me to think better somehow. And I'm getting over a cold, which settled in about ten days ago when the weather was making 40-degree variances and it was damp. It was the first time I really felt that I'd 'caught a chill' and couldn't knock it. Now I know what the saying means.

So I have a lot to write now and I'll ask you to stay tuned!

peace,

Le Anne

[I have since gone back to add in some other writings I did at the same time, although for other venues first. Enjoy!]

They like me, they really like me...

I just returned from my candidacy interview in front of Presbytery back home in Iowa and it went really well. My own nervousness aside, the floor exam went really rather well. People wanted to know where I heard the voice of God in life, why I wanted to continue in the ordination process, what am I doing these days. Not bad questions at all, except for the fact I was in front of a large crowd and was probably over-thinking the questions. In the small-group committee meeting, they were actually very receptive of my plans for civil disobedience at SOA, for my plans to delay graduation by a semester; for the trip to Iran; and for the continued work with the Center for Faith and Peacemaking. I was pretty blown away that they were that enthusiastic. I didn't realize how lucky I am.

I am thinking this week on how to create partnerships without getting involved in things I might regret. I am trying to balance the organization sponsoring our non-profit status, with the monastic order, with the organization helping us to acquire the monastery. I'm not so sure they like each other, so for me it is sort of a matter of playing peacemaker. I hope it all holds together.


This past week, I also met with the Hyde Park Interfaith Council to give them a presentation on my work and the monastery project. Perhaps timing and energy worked in my favor, because it was received very well. The earlier part of the meeting had been devoted to a perhaps not-too-hopeful strategic planning process, and the hour was now also late. I mustered up all the pep I could and spoke to a vision of Hyde Park and the near neighborhoods as an incubator for interfaith peacemaking throughout the world, by virtue of us welcoming in and graduating out students over and over again. There were a few congregations who asked for materials to be able to support us. That’s a big breakthrough!

Radical Inclusivity?

Today I've been pondering the words 'radical inclusivity'—perhaps they've been used somewhere else before, probably to describe Christ. I'm interested in talking to everyone that wants to talk with us. Including even those with whom we disagree. Even finding a way to include even those who we believe are bad people. There has to be some way for the human race to live together, for creation.

Pastor/Student/Writer/Activist

I originally wrote the following as part of our CCT (Center for Community Transformation) program at CTS, which combines internship at a parish with internship at a community action organization, an integration class, and a class on contemporary religious issues taught in different churches throughout the semester.

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This was a good week for reflection, since I had a cold and could not go to the soup kitchen; and was in the process of dropping half my classes and having the opportunity to think about what happens next with the monastery and with civil disobedience and with Iran.

My mind was not quite made up about all this when I was in my Integration class this past week; it didn’t really come until I was reading my previous two years’ worth of theology papers while writing my chapter on God for Constructive Theology. Every time, my conclusions came out that I was compelled to go next to Iran, to build bridges among religions, and to adopt the ‘monastic’ life that continually called to me. I’ve been this nuts about this particular path of action for this long? And I realized I couldn’t finish the chapter; that it really was in no way my priority to do so at this point in my life. And the next day, I handed in copies of my previous papers to Dr. Schneider as a parting gift, explaining why I simply had to go. She apparently took this well. Dr. Terrell took it well also, and I did my best to role-play for our final Ethics class together, the Israel-Palestine debate. I chose characters that I knew were rarely represented, such as the economic-motivated settler in the West Bank, or the Iraqi man who never really cared for Palestinians until the Americans started occupying his country. I think it was useful. [Meanwhile, my friend David used my red fleece vest to go as Norma, the Lutheran pilgrim to the Holy Land.]

I talked to Dow, my dean, after I dropped the classes, and I appreciated what he had to say, that he affirmed the need for sleep and that it was only one semester more of my life. And actually, chances are good that on this timeline, I could be prepared by then to have SeminaryAction and the Center for Faith and Peacemaking accepted as my ordainable call. In the meantime, it’s possible he’ll be back from sabbatical in time to serve on my reading committee, and that wouldn’t be bad at all. Not unlike Harry Potter losing Dumbledore, I am getting anxious about losing a wise and patient advisor at a critical point in my formation.


However, it is a little like the writings of Mother Theresa that I keep turning back to for encouragement in these days; that one hopes to do the right thing and a good thing even when encouragement or a sign of affirmation may not be immediately present. How many decisions have I made under the same circumstances? And yet, so far, I am often fortunate, often finding some peace in taking this path.


My life as a student at CTS and my role as a student pastor at First Church in Woodlawn and my concerns as a global citizen all intersected during the Board of Trustees meeting at the seminary this week. This mainly involves the decision whether to join the University’s South Midway Expansion, and how it seems that the least concern for our administration are these very questions of community impact that CCT asks. I’ve written (and probably should attach) an article for the Prophet newspaper on why this is an inappropriate option for the seminary to consider; and several Trustees and faculty told me that I spoke well at the meeting about these concerns. So, perhaps I have some hope that it will be heard; if not by our President, than perhaps by the Trustees.

I considered also what happens if they decide to go forward and do it anyway. Part of me considered that I wouldn’t want to continue my studies in a seminary that would do such a thing to a poor and struggling neighborhood. But I’m not sure that’s the answer either. There would be many good reasons to apply for a Ph.D. here, regardless. And perhaps to be available to work with students in that ‘damage-control’ process if we are indeed to become part of this unfortunate gentrification.

Another way is possible.

Thoughts of a young urban pastor

Walking two miles to church, or even a mile to campus these days, I realize I am now officially too old to wear uncomfortable shoes. Trying to walk two miles on a blister is disabling. Too bad that probably 95% of women’s shoes, particularly ones to wear outside the gym, are uncomfortable. I worry when I go out shoe shopping, even if my feet are miserable, that I am being too materialistic. Still, one of the retired men across the street, who looks not to own much of anything, had good shoes on and admonished me that you can’t afford not to wear good shoes.

I notice on the way home that I am finally breaking in this clergy shirt. It’s not so stiff anymore. Or, perhaps this could be me; maybe I’m just getting more comfortable with the role.

I learned at supervision today that all sorts of politicking has been going on and I was unawares. I’m not in the line of fire; apparently someone chose not to invite key people to the meeting where we discussed the future of the worship program. This has led to hurt and anger. It’s funny how groups of people try to make decisions by eliminating those with opposing viewpoints from the table. There’s no sense of being able to work things through together, or that some compromise might be possible.

In a similar vein, I’m reflecting on CTS’ process of making major decisions, whether to close buildings or move them; where to move. Watching them consider the controversial South Midway Expansion, and appearing to not know that this is controversial—I realize that my congregation and its people and my seminary and its people are more intertwined with one another than the seminary realizes. Our actions have consequences and affect others, even if we don’t see them or acknowledge them.

These very same neighborhoods in which I study are now also my parish. I’m not sure they weren’t before; perhaps I just didn’t acknowledge that before. But I hear my parishioners (those in my congregation and outside) express their anger. And I wonder what best to do.

The Great Parental Lap

People lie. Why don’t I get that?

People lie, or maybe just don’t care, or are having fun at your expense or are angry at something else that has nothing to do with you. It’s random, like getting caught in crossfire.

This is how I’m finally pulling myself together after these terrible experiences this past weekend with the unscrupulous tower and response of our property manager. There is no sense to this. And there may not be anything we can do to recoup the money. Unless we have a really big bakesale, we keep joking.

People lie. And I forget this, over and over again. When things like this happen, I resolve not to trust people again, to become skeptical, to always be ‘on my guard’—this is responsibility, after all, we’re told—but I always soften up again.

Trust can be costly.

But, at the same time, I don’t want to lose my capacity to trust, precisely not so in this world where there is so much hurt and harshness already.

In some ways, maybe the money doesn’t really matter. Money is lost and comes again. What hurts is that we were instructed to do one thing, we followed the instructions, we got hurt and paid the price. Why didn’t they just tell us the truth in the first place?

Still, after the storm, a foothold. After being through the wringer in even a relatively small system which I couldn’t understand or over come, it was good to find friends, hugs, an offered glass of wine, a call. Pain is eased in small gestures. Calming voices, the wisdom of experience: “These things happen, and yes, they do hurt.” Sometimes that’s all that’s needed to heal.

In the meantime, this week I had the experience of being the young one at the table, breaking the news that our congregation isn’t really all that welcoming. I believe they are good people and they really do try. But visitors don’t stick around long. Our service is somber, with male-dominant language. And sometimes it’s hard for a visitor to feel welcome at social hour. You can’t ask a Presbyterian under 40 to come on a regular basis for that. Some of the folks were defensive, and I managed to gently talk them down; others, actually, were surprisingly not. “You’re right, we really aren’t.” This actually catches me off guard more than anything. I wonder what will happen next.

The thing about change is, we don’t have to do away with those things which we love. But we can experiment with new things—we might realize we love these too.

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I have been hoping for, in all these bumps and mistakes and falls and uncertainty, a sort of ‘Great Parental Lap’ –a place into which you can crawl and cry and hide and be comforted when everything goes wrong, when someone harms you.

How does one re-create this? Perhaps so many feather pillows and comforters might do. But I’d overheat and suffocate, I think.

Pulled, but not apart

I am struggling with the feeling of being pulled, or even just pulled-along, in multiple directions, waiting for answers about what’s going to happen so I can make some decisions about life. I can’t seem to get the information I need to determine what’s best regarding whether or not I drop classes, how many classes I have to drop, other options, etc. It's one thing to make decisions based on information. It's another to have really no good facts at all and have to have decided yesterday...