Adventures in Vicaring: being an authority among German pastors

On the first Saturday of every month, my internship site runs a food pantry. Volunteers gather at 9:30 in the morning to sort groceries, place them in bags, and distribute around 120 bags of groceries to people in need. I typically do not participate in the Food Pantry but decided to this month. I arrived at 9:30 am to see about 75 people already lined up outside the church.

I was one of first volunteers (besides the head of this ministry) to show up and we got to work. I watched and mimicked my colleagues. I met some new people. I got to make faces at a baby who is only one day older than Oliver (and born at the same hospital no-less!). Food distribution began in earnest at 10:30 am. I helped record people who came into the door (we keeps tabs on who comes for statistics reporting – we do not require ID nor do we require people to prove their need but it is fascinating to see people who have been using this pantry for years, and since we record the dates they come, we can see when they are more financially stable and when they are not). It was a lot of fun.

About halfway through the distribution, a German tourist descended the stairwell and entered our fellowship hall. He chatted with our ministry director and it seemed he had a group of people who wanted to watch what we were doing. He kept naming dropped a name I didn’t know and said that this person told them to come “see what Advent is doing.” About a dozen people came downstairs, stood to the side, and watched. They asked questions. They all spoke in German. And they soon let us know that they were all German pastors from the Frankfurt area. Their numbers grew from a dozen to twenty. They seemed to be fans that we had a bathroom for anyone to use. We finished our food distribution, made some counts, and tried to hold off the questions from the pastors as graciously as we could. They were asking questions that our volunteers didn’t know the answer to but they were quickly introduced to me and I took them aside, once my work was done, to be grilled by these German pastors.

So – there I was – in the fellowship hall at my internship site, discussing our food ministry programs with twenty pastors from Germany. They were all much older than me but most listened to me as one in authority (there were a few who looked like they’d rather be visiting Times Square but that’s fine – who could blame them?) They spoke perfect English, asked good questions, were curious about our partnerships with local government and other congregations/synagogues in the areas, and were very concerned about the people who entered our doors. They asked if I visited them (we don’t really). They seemed partially concerned that there were no pastors (just vicars) helping with the distribution. They asked if I tried to witness their living conditions and see if I can improve them (in a perfect world, we could do that but, again, as an institution, we have limited resources – they only thing we could do, and that we do do, is direct people to other charities and government sources of help). That last question, they repeated several times. That seemed to be the hardest question to answer for them. They spoke as committed individuals to the cause of social justice. None mentioned God, or Jesus, or spoke in any faith-based language. They were concerned about knowing people, forming relationships, and having resources to help change the living situations of the people in the neighborhood. I admired that.

But it came off as very…I dunno. Their language and mannerisms seemed to suppose that my congregation should have access to financial and institutional resources that we really don’t. They kept asking about food donations from supermarkets (which we accept) but didn’t seem to understand how unreliable such a system is for us and how we use grants (or our own funds) to support our food programs. When I threw out the few financial numbers I knew (and that I might have made up based on some educated guesses), the numbers surprised them. They didn’t seem to speak, or think, in a language of dollars and cents. Rather, they assumed an environment of institutional cooperation that allowed mutual enhancement of mission. The problem is that this doesn’t exist, all that much, in the United States. We have to think in dollars and cents or else social ministry just doesn’t get done.

The group of pastors thanked me for my time and they were very nice. They were inquisitive, always asking questions, and in their questions, pointing towards institutional relationships that we might be interested in working on. But institutional relationships are hard to maintain. Right now, from my experience with our neighborhood ecumenical groups, it is individual relationships between leaders that sustain these relationships. If that one-on-one relationship is lost, or broken, the institutional relationship dissolves. That’s probably something we should work on as group – but how to change that, I do not know.

Oh. And one more thing. They kept taking pictures of ME as I spoke. That made me really self-conscious. I just wish I knew they were going to be coming. I would have dressed up. I would have put on a collar. I would have made sure that they weren’t experiencing a vicar who attended a food pantry wearing a t-shirt with a hotdog, in an eye patch, holding a smoking gun. Darn it.

Vicar thought of the day: Divorce

I wonder if the reason why Spark curriculum series decided to talk about Genesis 2 on Sunday rather than Mark 10 because Genesis 2 is a lot more fun and easy to turn into games and color leaflets. I don’t blame them for that – I’ve been wracking my brain all week to think if there’s a way to talk about divorce, and Jesus’s harshness, in a Sunday School setting. I really can’t think of one that is healthy and easy to condense into a 45 minute teaching moment. So, Genesis 2 it is then. Of course, Genesis 2 isn’t easy either, especially for those of us who find “complementary” theology ridiculous and serve in a denominational body that allows women pastors and leaders, mostly because of the history around the use of Genesis 2 can be troubling and hard to examine. But I still wonder – can there not be a space, in church, to talk about divorce? There should be. I just don’t know how to do it yet.

I am bad at the blogging

You know, I thought that, during my internship, I’d have time to blog all the time. But…I…yeah..that’s not happening. Everything is going great. I’m writing Sunday School lessons, visiting folks in hospital, and sending out 200 emails a day. It has been a blast. But, well, when I come home, I see these two, and I just can’t find the time to write about the day.

I’m enjoying be a vicaring dad.

Things they don’t tell you about urban ministry

Today was our first confirmation class of the season. It went well. We had a large class, the kids were in the right spirit, and it went really well. I was happy with the whole thing.

But there is something they don’t tell you about urban ministry that they really should. My internship site tries to keep its doors open as much as possible. It is a rarity in urban ministry to have a church with open doors. So, as the entire class sat in the front of the sanctuary, teaching, learning, and growing, several gentlemen and women from the neighborhood, or who were just passing through, entered the sanctuary. They would sit, pray, spend the time they need with their thoughts and with God, and then go about their way. This is normal at my internship site. A gentlemen came in like every other. He sat in the very back pew, next to a parent of one of the confirmation kids who came early. He sat there for maybe thirty minutes. As we neared the end of confirmation, wrapping up our talk about the first commandment and a nice derail about whether God is a hypocrite for being a jealous God, seven uniformed policemen walk through the door.

My internship supervisor quickly got up and met the officers. The officers approached the gentlemen in the back row and questioned him. It took only a moment. They confirmed what they need to and escort him out of the building to arrest him. The cops told my supervisor that the guy appears to have stole an iPhone and they tracked him through the GPS on the phone to the church. The parent of the confirmation kid tells my supervisor that the gentlemen was sitting and waiting to talk to the pastor (though my supervisor never saw this gentlemen before). The kids, of course, were curious and everyone was watching and going “what’s going on?” It was wild. As the gentlemen was escorted out of the building, one of our students saw the undercover cops who also showed up randomly to help out. She turned to me and said “okay, this is now my high for the week.”

Yes it was kid. Yes it was.

New Vicar Shadow Bag Blues

I’ll admit that I’m having a hard time blogging as I run through my internship. The combination of working full time, with my wife back to work part time, and Oliver (who is staring and cooing at me as I type this), is exhausting. And I have a great kid! I sleep through the night! But, still, I’m exhausted. When I come home at the end of the day, all I want to do is bounce him on a ball and veg out. The million blog posts that I have swirling in my head are just going to have to stay there for awhile.

However, I would like share this one quote from some of the pastors at my church. Last Sunday (not yesterday) as I robed up in the Sacristy for the second service, I was assigned several liturgical parts to play in the service. Besides my usual singing and dancing (jazz hands), I was told to lead the congregation through the confession.

Pastor One: “I’ve always felt it appropriate that the vicars lead the confession…”
Pastor Two: “…since they have way more sins than we do.”

Lord, let us pray. I ask, if I ever have my own intern to supervise, that the dryness of my humor grows so that it brings joy to all that hear it. I’m definitely thankful for what I’m getting at my internship so far.

Deity, meet Oliver. Oliver, cry at Deity.

At today’s 9/11 Unity Walk in New York City (I’ll hopefully write more about the event latter), Oliver was a champ. He cried and freaked out like the best of them. I picked him up from home, wore him on the subway while wearing my collar (and reading Rad Dad), and we arrived in Washington’s Square park only 15 minutes after the event started! As we caught up with the group, we began our walk through lower Manhattan, arriving in one sacred space after another, listening to speakers from all sorts of faith backgrounds, and moving throughout the city. Oliver slept through most of the walk. That didn’t faze him. But it seemed that sacred spaces were just a little too much today.

One of the venues was in Soho. We found an unmarked door next to a restaurant being renovated. The door was opened and a staircase confronted us. After two long flights up, an opened door and a young woman welcomed me to enter a lovely room full of windows. But there was a catch – my shoes had to come off. I flipped off my red chucks, bent down with Oliver strapped to my chest (cuz I’m a pro), and found a lovely light blue shelf to put them on. I entered the room, looked around, and thought I was in a yoga studio. I mean…it just felt like it. It seemed a tad too…relaxed…to be in the middle of NYC, you know? It was beautiful with a lovely kitchen, lots of shoes, and it looked incredibly open, spacious, peaceful, with a large center piece decoration that was golden but not ornate. Then I noticed it. We weren’t just in a yoga studio – we were in an active hindu temple and before us wasn’t just a decoration, it was an actual deity. And as the group gathered, our speaker began to speak. And Oliver decided to lose his mind.

I know – I know. He was hot, hungry, and he woke up to discover himself face-to-face with the evil that is polyester blend clergy shirts. I would have lost my mind too. So, I stood in the back, and tried to soothe him. I got close. People didn’t mind. After the speaker finished, everyone said they were happy that Oliver was there. Some folks even took my picture (even though Oliver was cranky). But feeding him wasn’t working so I decided to change his diaper. I waited in line for the restroom and he kept melting down. Finally, once we were in the bathroom, and I began to change his diaper on the floor (and I’m still terrible at taking the Ergo off by myself and putting it back on), he howled. I mean, he howled. And it echoed throughout the temple. While I got him changed and rehooked on, I dreaded what I would see when I came out of the restroom. Would they all be staring at me? Would they think I’m a terrible father? Would my internship supervisor disown me? Luckily, everyone left the building, heading to a new place. It was just me, a screaming baby, a temple servant, and the deity. That deity. Staring at me. And Oliver kept howling. We left, and following standard protocal, he was quiet by the time I reached the fourth step down the stairwell. Whether Oliver was voicing a theological concern or just being a baby, I’ll never know. But that deity got to experience the meltdown that is Oliver. Welcome to the club big guy – welcome to the club.

Everyday I’m Vicaring

On Sunday, September 2, I started my full year internship at Advent Lutheran Church in Manhattan. I’ve been the field ed/seminarian intern for the last two years but I’m now full time. I don’t have time for a full write up of what’s been happening but I’d like to share some highlights.

  • After my sermon on Sunday, I ate pancakes full of cookie dough. My teeth hurt just writing that.
  • While wearing my collar on Sunday, and leaving the subway station, I passed by a man begging for money on the street. After he insulted a young couple in front of me (who were ignoring him – the proper NYC response), he saw me, grabbed his throat, and kept saying “father! father!” while locked in a death stare. It was a very weird experience that I didn’t know how to react to.
  • I have my own voice mail box now. I’m fancy.
  • I’m consider going to a rock show with fellow parishioners to support a member of my congregation rocking out as the drummer in Hannah vs the many as part of my ministry.
  • On the ride into the office on my first day, it was very strange to be actually commuting to work with everyone else.
  • It’s still weird turning away people who randomly walk into the church and ask for money (which we don’t give out to walk-ins). I had to turn down a family yesterday (while directing them to other local charities and resources that are available to them).
  • There’s been a big pile of Dum-dum lollipops that I have been devouring all week.
  • Being away from Oliver has been tough.
  • I’ve forgotten something vital at home every day this week. Today, I left my coffee on the kitchen counter. WHYYYYY.
  • Being a part of bible studies is one of my favorite things about the church.
  • The new vicar at Trinity 100th street seems nice.
  • And I started out my vicarship with a cold that the whole family is now enjoying. Oliver’s coughs and sneezes are adorable, and sad, at the same time.

This is going to be fun.

My working title was “50 Shades of Solomon”

My sermon on Songs of Songs 2:8-13 delivered at Advent Lutheran Church, NYC, on September 2, 2012. I’m not 100% sure of the theological consequences and implications of what I conveyed here – I know that some folks were didn’t like my use of the word “trapped” (and for good reason since Lutheran tradition ties that word to our being trapped in sin and freed through grace) so I’ve still gotta work out exactly how this all fits but I think I did alright. My problems from last Sunday didn’t show up (and I still even got compliments even on the sermon I thought I bombed) so I’m doing alright. Not a bad way to start an Internship I think.

************

I think it’s fitting that we’re ending our time in the Davidic storyline with a song. I mean – our reading today from Song of Solomon is a tad out of the ordinary. There’s no real plot here – there’s no historical story….it isn’t even a complete story. There’s no beginning, or middle, or end. Instead – we’re hearing a part of a song but not just any song – we’re hearing a love song – if you will – it sounds like a pop rock song.

When I read Song of Solomon, I hear a pop song. There’s nothing in the text that really makes it historical – there’s no dates, or battles, or culture references that scream that this text was written in a specific time by a specific person in a specific place. Instead…well…it sounds like something you’d hear on the radio, or Pandora, or something you might see a young guy in skinny jeans singing in a basement in the Village.

But it’s not a perfect pop song. I mean – there’s loss, and lust, and love and that whole teenage puppy thing – but – there’s no heart break. There’s no story about how the two lovers in our story meet. There’s no jealous ex or a missed subway connection or anything that interrupts their love for each other. And there’s also no end – we don’t hear if they live happily ever after or if they never see each other again. Instead – we just get a story of two lovers in love. Sure, they long to be with each other – and there are some scenes of absences and other problem – but they’re just two kids trapped in the moment of love.

And it can be kinda disgusting too. I mean – it reads like they are in the honeymoon phase of their love affair. They can’t get enough of each other, they want to be around each other – I can almost imagine them saying “oh yeah, we never fight – we’re just in looovveeeee” with those puppy dog eyes And those of us who have been in relationships will just roll our eyes and say – just wait – it will get tougher. It will get worse. Just wait until you have a real disagreement – a real problem – and just you wait to see how much in looovvveee you’ll really be.

But that’s not what we get here. In the middle of our Bible – we’re stuck with a puppy dog love song, frozen for all time. The two lovers never fall in love – they never fall out love – they never get their dreams for marriage fulfilled. They’re frozen, forever, saying to each other that “the winter is past….the flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come…arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.” They are trapped….in love…a love that is mutually shared – that just is. There’s no need to explain where it comes from – just that it exists, is real, and it feeds them. It nourishes them in time of togetherness and in times of absence. They are frozen in relationship with each other – for all time. They can’t get out of it, they can’t change it, there’s no death or marriage or ex-girlfriend coming into the picture to ruin the fun – they are frozen in a love story that they did not start but that they will be apart of forever. And that’s why I think it’s brilliant that Song of Solomon is in our bibles – because these two lovers are just in love – it just is! They can’t do anything about it. And that story – I think that’s our story too.

Last week, when we read about Solomon’s dedication of the temple – I said that I thought it focused us down – it focused our attention to how concrete God is – and that God – God is all around – and we’re trapped – just trapped – in God’s presence, whether we know it or not. Our existence with God just is. And I want to extend that here to also claim that we’re also placed into a relationship with God – a relationship that we didn’t start – there’s no boy meets next door neighbor story here – the relationship we have with God just is. We’re stuck there – like these two lovers – in a situation that we did not create on our own. We’re just plopped right into it – that there is this God – this God – all around us and that this God isn’t just a wall or some kind of abstract midst or something that doesn’t actually mean anything to us – no – we’re plopped right into the middle of being in a relationship with God – a relationship founded on the thing that God knows how to do – and that is love. Whether we know it or not, whether we feel it, whether we think we can choose to belong to God or not – that’s just where we are. Through the Christ event – with the breaking of God into our world, into our existence, into our fears, suffering, joy, laughter, and tears – through the ultimate symbol of isolation, loneliness, apartness – the bipolar counterpoint to love – through the Cross, we discover that we are smack dab in the middle of a relationship of love – even when we don’t feel it, even when we’re not aware of it – even when we do everything we can to fight against it. We’re there – we’re just where love is.

So now what? What do we do since we’re stuck in love?

I think…well..I think we need to acknowledge there are consequences for being stuck in love. I mean, we’re so wrapped up in this one on one relationship – we’re in this little world – and…and we’re so wrapped up in it that we end up outside of it. I mean – in our reading – the only words that can be used to described the beloved is as a gazelle or a young stud. The only proper description is a metaphor – a metaphor that points out there – into the world – away from the two lovers and into the wider area where they live. But not only that – their love has changed the season – the winter is past – the time of flowers has come – their love can’t be contained by just themselves. It can’t be limited to just their experience of it. It has no choice but to radiate outwards – to go beyond them – to enter the entire world and engage the world as a couple in love. They can’t help it. They have no other response in them. They can only go out there and love.

That’s the only thing that’s left to do.

So what does that mean? I think our reading from James might be a start – be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger. That’s not too bad. And that whole bit about being doers of the word – that action and listening are experiences that are tied together – I like that. And Jesus, in our reading from Mark – don’t commit murder, don’t slander, watch out for pride and folly – all good things. That’s all a good start. But it isn’t the limit to love. It isn’t a checklist to what love is. I couldn’t give you a chart after service today that says do these things, check them off the list, and you would have shown all that love can do. Because love isn’t a series of acts – it isn’t something you can check off and pat yourself on the back. Like the lovers in Song of Solomon – it is an all encompassing experience that we are trapped in. They can do nothing but love – and that’s are call – in all things, with all things, in all our relationships – we are called to love. We are called to love from our relationship with God to all that is outside us. We’re called to love all those who share are beliefs and all those who don’t. We’re called to love all those who agree with us politically and those who don’t. We’re called to love all those who look like us and those who don’t. We’re called to act like we are in the relationship of love that we are in. Now….this isn’t easy. The lovers in our story are trapped in a love story that is filled with absence – filled with distance – filled with trials and tribulations and people who don’t want that relationship to continue – but…but those lovers can only do one thing….and that’s to love. This brings to mind my experience of this political season – when it seems that divisiveness and the breaking of the bonds we share together is the goal – when love takes a back seat to an empty chair – but…we’re called to be something else. We’re called to be in the midst of love – not…not because we somehow deserve it or that we’re better than everyone else or that we’re special and wonderful people who never feel heartache, fear, and stress. No…we’re called to dwell in love -to be people in love in the world around us – because we were loved first and…well…like our lovers from the Song of Solomon shows us – when you’re in love…is there anything but love that makes sense to do?

Amen.

Still

Months ago I received a review copy of Still, the “new” book by Lauren f. Winner. Sadly, seminary, fatherhood, and general laziness kept me from reading it and writing a review. Now, at the start of my internship, while trying to avoid finishing a sermon and in the need to clean things off my desk, I finally have the motivation to get this off write one.

This book is very good. In it, I found a description of what it means to live with faith. Over the years, as I’ve traveled down the path to ordination, it seems that I’m confronted a lot of times with my journey to faith rather than my journey with faith. I’ve written the journey to faith in essay form a million times but it only seems that my journey with faith isn’t really asked for all that much. Instead, I seem to share it here on my blog. Winner writes well, and with passion, about what it means to be at the place where faith and real life interact, meet, and pound into each other. And I’ve always enjoyed this genre of writing. It is a brilliant read.

But Still is also not my kind of read at the same time. There is a style within these words, a pacing, and a sense of identity, that I tend not to find inviting. It doesn’t speak to me because my world is not Winner’s. I’ve had some of the feelings that she’s had but not all. And there’s a breath-filled approached to the writing that seems to give it a softness that doesn’t speak to my background. There’s also a tendency to dwell in the language of prayer and spirituality that is very Episcopalian (which Winner is) and that, well, is off putting to me at the moment – probably because I’m the token Lutheran at an Episcopalian seminary. Sometimes, when I am confronted by the spiritual writings of the mystics, fathers, and mothers of the church in modern writing, I turn off because I see a veneration of their words that seem to be in competition with mine. I know that’s my problem but it is something that I see all the time in my time at Seminary and….it irks me. So, really, this isn’t a book for me – but that’s perfectly a-ok. When I stopped asking the text to speak to me, to be what I need, and when I let it be itself, as a series of essays reflecting on living with faith – I liked it.

But there is more to this book than just being an entertaining reflection on living with faith. There was one thought in this book that I love – a thought I wish I had but now one that I will cherish forever. I direct you to page 164.

I am attending a lecture, at a divinity school in New England, about light. The lecturer is a physicist, an expert in black holes, and she is doing her level best to give a bunch of church organists and theology students and preachers some sense of the science that underpins this symbol we ceaselessly invoke: Jesus is the “light of the world”; eternity is “like a great ring of pure and endless light”; “the light of the righteous rejoiceth: but the lamp of the wicked shall be put”; the flames of Hell emti “no light, but rather darkness visible”; and so on.
During the Q&A, someone asks how light can be both a particle and a wave. The questioner seems perplexed.
It seems to me that anyone who worships a being who is both God and man should not have so much trouble with light.

Yes.