My Entire Life is a Lie

Yesterday morning, I woke bright and early. After annoying my wife, harassing the cat, and getting growled at by the dog because I made her move from her spot on the bed, I prepped myself to visit the Health and Safety department of the hospital where I will be doing CPE at. I start on May 31st and I needed my paperwork verified and my skin was to be pricked a second time for another PPD test. I somehow made it to the right place at the right time (even though I did take the wrong elevator at one point). I was pleasantly surprised to see the waiting room for the doctors waiting to be checked out to be just as mundane as the waiting rooms for the rest of us. My name was called and the nurse brought me into one of the many medical rooms. She was very nice but noticed that my physical was missing some information. She asked my height, my weight, and whether I wore contacts. She then left the room briefly and returned with a little book. She needed to check whether I was color blind. I had no idea you could check that via a book.

She flipped open the book and asked me to mention what numbers I saw. The pages were covered in dots of various colors. The first three pages were fine – I saw the patterns of dots that made numbers easily. And then, on page four, the numbers vanished. All I saw were dots of different colors. I saw no numbers or any patterns that could resemble numbers. I saw nothing but chaos. My pulse went up a little. I squinted hoping I would see something. I thought about even making things up but that idea quickly passed. At the end, she closed the book and told me what K had suspected for years.

“Did you know that you’re color blind?”

I didn’t.

Now, I’ve never been red-green color blind. I can tell the difference between stop lights. But what colors were I messing up? What colors did I think we’re blue but were really green? What about Navy and Black? Or Purple and Blue? How long had my eyes been deceiving me? Who could I blame? WHERE HAD IT ALL GONE WRONG?

It’s a little strange to find out that I am color blind. I do not have a feeling of relief – as if I thought something was seriously up and that, now that I know the answer, my life was somehow better. Rather, I felt strange, curious, and full of questions. But I wasn’t going to get answers that day. At the end of the blood work, the PPD test, and everything else, the nurse then told me that I was going to undergo a drug test. This wasn’t the first and and I’m sure it won’t be the last but I still have not gotten use to handing a bottle of urine to a nurse. “Hi, we just met and you’re very nice, kind, and you’ve made this whole experience rather pleasant so, as a special thanks, here’s some urine in a cup.” It just seems strange though I know that it’s only strange from my perspective. The nurse does this all the time and she’s seen worse. I bet she has stories that would make me squirm. But still. It something I am not use to.

STICK A FORK IN ME

I AM DONE.

Actually, I was done last Thursday. I just needed a few days to convince my fingers to not be afraid of the keyboard. They had their work cut out for them this month.

My finals week at LTSP was fairly straight forward. I stayed in NYC an extra night (no Monday morning class) so I arrived Monday around noon. My workload for this final week was one take home final (3 short essays for Old Testament 2), one five page review of the book American Jesus (for Readings in Christology), one set of reading reflections on half a dozen books in the Old Testament, and a 3 hour final on Thursday for Lutheran Confessions. My Liturgy course and Pastoral Care finished before finals week even began. The book review went fine and the take home final went well even though I was little worried about it. Most of the final exam consisted of looking at the Wisdom literature in the OT and we never really covered, in class, how Wisdom was defined. Or maybe we did and I had zoned out in that lecture or I just failed to do the supplemental reading that week (it happens). Either way, my professor was very nice and made sure to grade the exam quickly and get it back to me before I left campus. I’m grateful for that.

My final for Lutheran Confessions went swimmingly except for a little incident where, right before the exam began, a student was escorted out of the classroom by security. I still have yet to figure out why that happened though I have my guesses (the student was either an auditor who wasn’t suppose to be taking the final or the student had discovered the secret Luther Rose signal that Gotham uses to summon the League of Lutheran Avengers) but that was a bit unnerving. None of us had a chance before hand to really break it down or decompress. The head of security had asked me if I knew the student earlier in the morning (I barely did) and I noticed, on my way to the classroom, the entire security squad was hanging around our classroom. The professor was obviously flustered, apologized to all of us for what happened, and then gave us the test. So we all plowed ahead. The exam consisted of two sections – the first section required us to identify 20 or so documents, terms, ideas, or reformers, and say a little about them. The other section was 3 essay questions out of the 10 that I had received before hand. I tabbed the crap out of my Book of Concord so I had all my quotes and ideas ready for the test. I focused each question on one of the legs of the three legged (with a four leg resting on top) stool: Justification by Grace through Faith, Law and Gospel, Theology of the Cross, and the Two Kingdoms. I barely discussed the two kingdoms in my essays so, right at the end, I wrote a quick paragraph on what it was about (I like to show that I paid attention to at least one lecture this year). Each question was “from the headlines” or were questions the professor received from former students dealing with situations that developed in their parishes or internships. I think I did okay but since I vacated the premise, I won’t know my final grade until June 15 (and there is a good chance my final exam will be lost into the Abyss of Exams that Time Forgot since I’m not there to pick it up). Thus, I have plenty of time to stew and think about how I could have done better. And it also doesn’t help that I threw in a few jokes on the objective part of the test for the TA to read (since he’s a buddy of mine) but I found out afterwards that the TA wasn’t aware that he was grading any parts of it. I hope the professor appreciated my use of emoticons.

I left LTSP campus later that Thursday. I spent two hours throwing things out, scrubbed the bathroom, borrowed a friend’s vacuum, and wondered how someone who never really lived on campus could have acquired so much junk. I said my goodbyes to a few folks on campus (folks that I am gonna miss terribly) and, as it began to rain, a friend kindly offered to drive me to the SEPTA train stop. And so I left – my first year at seminary finished. Goodbye Philadelphia, hello ten days till CPE.

Electronic Luther

For my birthday, my wife surprised me with a Kindle. I haven’t had a chance to play with it too much (darn finals!) but I’ve spent the morning trying to find cheap theological texts online. The Amazon Kindle store has quite a few old translations of Luther for free. Even if you don’t have a Kindle, you can download the Kindle App for your PC (or Mac) and read it on your machine. If anyone has any suggestions of books I should get, please let me know.

Liturgy Retreat in Trappe

Cue trapped in Trappe jokes.

For my Introduction to Liturgy course, our final examine consisted of a retreat. On a Saturday, those who were able gathered at Augustus Lutheran Church in Trappe, PA. There, in the historic Lutheran church building built in 1743, we performed the three days of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Vigil. All three, in a row, and on one day.

Twilight

Okay, we didn’t do all there services exactly in a row. The class didn’t plow from one bulletin to the next. We had breaks. We ate lunch and dinner together. There were moments of downtime between the services. Dr. Lathrop wished for the entire day to be a retreat from the stress induced final moments of the spring semester. The idea was to do the three days on an Easter Saturday with every student having some part to play in the event.

We arrived at Augustus Lutheran Church a little after 11 o’clock. On the way through town, pass the odd UCC church sign, I kept making comments about Henry Melchior Muhlenberg and his being a patron of local fast food restaurants (specifically Dairy Queen). It only seemed right that since Muhlenberg’s house had a historical marker dedicated to it, his favorite ice cream dessert should too. The entire class gathered in one of the community halls attached to the newer church building. A lunch was prepared for a small army. I believe there is still salad from that day sitting in the communal fridge on the 3rd floor of LTSP’s dorm.

Prepping for Maundy Thursday
Prepping for Maundy Thursday

After feeding myself to the point of bursting, I wandered with several other students into the Old Church. Built in 1743 and with its only electricity being fed into it via huge extension chords, I watched as Dr. Lathrop, Dr. Krentz, and my classmates began to run through how the Maundy Thursday service would work. From the monster pulpit, the tiny box pews (that were too small for even me), and the bleacher balcony, it was a beautiful building to shoot.

Balcony

Prepping for Maundy Thursday

Casey and Dr. Lathrop

It also helped that there was a lovely graveyard outside.

Outside

The graveyard had it all – the graves of the first European settlers in Trappe, a gravestone from 1736, the tomb of 15 unknown Continental soldiers, and ridiculously gaudy tombstones. It was a dream. Peaceful, buggy, yet serene. It makes sense why graveyards were the first city parks.

The Maundy Thursday service went very well. We sung our hymns, had our feet washed, washed our neighbors feet, and celebrated the Eucharist. It didn’t dawn on me at the time but I actually had my feet washed by an actual diaconal candidate (that doesn’t happen every day). Dr. Lathrop preached. A good time was had by all.

With that service ended, we had a few moments before our next service. I once again headed into the graveyard where I visited the man himself, Henry Melchoir Muhlenberg.

Henry Melchior Muhlenberg
Gravestone in Latin? Wife barely a footnote? Ballsy.

Quite a bit of Muhlenberg’s family is buried in the church. His son the Major General is there as well as his daughter who married a future General. There is a smattering of American Revolutionary war accolades throughout the cemetery. I was bummed to see no mention of Henry’s favorite Dairy Queen.

With the graves visited, I then strolled deeper into the graveyard with my ELW. Then, while out of earshot, I began practicing Psalm 22. I am not a singer and singing in public makes me nervous. But there, amongst the graves, I belted it out. I will admit that, at some points, I was hoping that I was not accidentally chanting an incantation that would raise everyone from the dead. I’ve seen movies and TV shows that started that way. It would have made the retreat quite a different kind of event.

The Good Friday service began promptly at 3 pm. I took my seat in the very first box pew. The readings were read. I chanted and the assembly chanted responsively. A friend of mine presided. Dr. Lathrop preached. But rather than preach from the floor (like at the Maundy Thursday service), he wandered up to the pulpit; the pulpit marked restricted area. Dr. Lathrop’s view looked something like this:

Looking from the pulpit

As you can see, those individuals sitting in the very first pew, were going to develop neck strain if they tried to look up during the sermon. And we did. My neck hurts just thinking about it.

3 young men sung the passion. The cross was carried in and laid on the altar. The service ended with everyone leaving in silence. Everyone was very moved by it.

A storm moved into the area and rained while we were having dinner. Luckily, it blew out before the start of the Easter Vigil. I, again, overate at dinner and I had to be rolled down to where we all gathered to light a bonfire. Earlier in the day, a car accident right in front of the church had damaged a transformer and caused power outages in the neighborhood. Firemen and police officers were around all day. One wandered onto the church campus and one of our students asked if he was there because we were going to light a fire in the graveyard. This was the first he heard about it and he had a few questions. But everything was fine and we all gathered and waited for Dr. Lathrop, Dr. Krentz, Laura, and Jay to process from the church to where we had gathered.

Walking towards Easter Vigil Fire

With the fire lit, we moved into the boy scout room of the community center at the church. There, all 14 readings were done (and their responses). I never before had participated in an Easter Vigil where all the readings were done and I must say that I quite enjoyed it. The lectors were great and the prayers/song responses were perfect. They were not too short nor were they too long. They added distance between readings but were not boring. During some of the readings, laughter was shared. The group got into it. It probably helps that we’re all mostly pastors-to-be but I think we all had a good time. And, through it all, everything was in candle light. In the words of Dr. Lathrop, it was gorgeous.

With the readings done, we returned through the darkness to the old church building. Covering our candle sticks, we did our best to keep them lit during the thanksgiving for baptism. In the church, the sermon was preached and eucharist was shared. With that, the evening was done and we all piled into our respective vehicles and returned to where we had come.

Chestnut Hill Baptist Church

Chestnut Hill Baptist Church

My wife’s grandfather’s sister was married here in 1957. She married the pastor’s brother who was attending Eastern Baptist Seminary at the time.

Throw a rock and you’ll hit a clergy person, or a saint, in my created family it seems. I have yet to discover any recent clergy person’s in my family of origin but I finally learned the name of the saint in my bloodline. His name is Saint Camillus de Lellis and he is one of the patron saints to nurses. The most common response I hear when I share this guy with folks is that they notice that he was 6’6″. They then notice me. They ask: “What happened?”

Sunday School Stratification: The Santa Question

Last Sunday was a wild day at my field education site. The sexton, two pastors, the CYF director, all three music directors, and a big chunk of the leaders of the church were gone (one of the musical directors was getting married!). The one remaining pastor, her partner, and I were left in charge. Things went well, I think. I only forgot to uncover the baptismal font (and prepare water for it) during the 9 am service (which I also was an assistant minister for) and I was able to get help to cover for me during Sunday school. And my helping clean up broken glass during the 11 am service was a hit – they really liked when I genuflected before the altar while holding a broom. But between the 9 am and 11 am service is when Sunday school is scheduled. After I readied the altar for the next service, I wandered into the Sunday School classroom with a half hour of time left. I was worried that the kids were driving the new teacher up the wall. Luckily, that wasn’t happening. I was relieved.

The kids (between the ages of 4 and 9) were talking about the story of Thomas. Being the fantastic Lutheran Christians that they are, when the kids were asked if they had ever NOT believed in God, they all said “no.” But, organically and without and prompting from us, the conversation quickly turned into whether they believed in fairy tales and myths. One young lady brought up the Loch Ness monster which immediately led to one of the older kids using the dreaded S word.

She started talking about Santa.

She said she never believed in Santa Claus, though some of her kids thought so. And when she talked about watching her mom wrap presents, she was immediately interrupted by one of the younger kids who shouted, loudly, “HOW ELSE DO THE PRESENTS GET INTO THE HOUSE?” The floodgates opened. The older kids began talking about parents wrapping presents, the younger kids countered with presents appearing in the middle of night because the parents were asleep. And all I could think was “no way – they’re not finding this out at church today.” I quickly blurted out a question to all the kids. They stopped talking, looked at me, and answered me. I asked them if they had friends who told them that God wasn’t real. Being in a city filled with opinionated adults and children sometimes helps. The conversation quickly shift back to the story of Thomas. I have no idea if I saved the day (it’s possible that the arts and crafts that followed also helped) but I haven’t stopped thinking about that moment since.

Even with really young kids, there really is a stratification built on the topic of Santa. I’ve been aware of the social, racial, language, and just plain age differences between the kids but I never, for a moment, thought about Santa. But the fact that Santa came up during the chat about Thomas makes perfect sense. Besides Christmas, there is no other time when Santa would come up.

I’m not sure how other churches, pastors, or vicars would have responded when this happened. I guess, since Santa has never been a problem for me, I will always side on “wait till they’re older” when it comes to the Santa Question. I don’t recall when I ever discovered that [SPOILER ALERT] Santa wasn’t real but I am sure I heard it from my friends. And maybe hearing it at Sunday School would be the best and safest place for that to happen. But I don’t think that’s the “counter-cultural” aspect of the church that needs raising up in Sunday School. Telling kids to love, to believe, and that God loves them – even if they don’t understand what that means – I think helps. I know I could have used that growing up. But Santa? I’ll leave that to the kids on the playground. I have enough of a hard time dealing with a disciple who denied Jesus, a guy who betrayed him, a guy who had to stick his finger in Jesus’s side, and a church history of deprecating women – and trying to explain all of that to kids who know more than most people give them credit for – than having to talk about Santa. And I think answering the Santa question might even be too easy for the church. It’s easy to try and destroy Santa while ignoring even more important questions later. It allows the church to focus on “myths” while propagating myths about sex, about the role of women, about minorities, and about reality. Those things matter more than Santa.

Happy Birthday to Me

Yesterday was my birthday. I had a fairly great day (all things considered). I would like to share some highlights with you, if you don’t mind.


This isn’t me. It’s a male model.

In my Lutheran Confessions class, I sit in the very front row, right next to Dr. Wengert. Like usual, I was being used as an example in the class (I don’t remember if he was drowning me with wine, over feeding me with bread, or listening to see if I’m alive, or whatnot). But then Dr. Wengert noticed my shirt. He took a moment to comprehend it, thought it was “something” and when informed it was my birthday (it was shouted out from the back of the room), Dr. Wengert sung me a lovely happy birthday song that he learned at camp. Only one other seminarian knew it. It involved death, dying, and hope that this might be my last year alive. So, for all future seminarians, if you would like to throw Dr. Wengert, buy your t-shirts from threadless; cookie loves milk is a good one.

During lunch at the refectory, the entire lunch crowd sung happy birthday. The table of all male faculty and staff didn’t seem very into it at first. However, by the end of the song, they were lovingly harmonized with the entire room. Well done sirs, well done.

After lunch, and before my liturgy small section, Dan let me do a shot of lemoncello that he had made. Class went very well after that.

Casey said, throughout the day, that it was my birthday.

Many staff members and students thought I was five years younger than I truly am. They said I aged well. They do not realize that I have a beauty routine to keep looking young – and my hip and happening sense of style probably also threw them.

I really loved eating my birthday chorizo burrito. It made everyone else at dinner jealous.

And my favorite bit was opening my birthday present while skyping with K, and hearing the dog barking in the background.

K also sent me almost two dozen e-cards throughout the day; all were from some e cards. This was one of my favorites: