One down, five to go

It's probably too soon to really reflect on my first semester of divinity school. After all, I did just take my last final yesterday and slept until 11:00 this morning. What I can tell you is that I'm having the time of my life! Even with the craziness of four final papers and five final exams (this is where taking five classes gets to be a little insane), I am so filled with gratitude for all I've learned and the friends I've made, that I not only have no complaints, I can't think of even a downside. Well, maybe being apart from Tim during the week, but his business has grown so busy and he travels so much that we wouldn't see each other that much more anyway! So I can safely say that missing the dogs is the worst of it, but the greeting I get when I go home almost makes up for it!

For those of you wondering just what it is that one learns in seminary, I can tell you that it's most definitely NOT how to be a priest or pastor in a church, at least, not yet. This first semester has been all about content:

• What do the Hebrew scriptures really say, at least through the Pentateuch and Deuteronomistic History?
• How do we translate those Hebrew scriptures from the original language?
• What were the worship practices in the early church and how have they developed over two millennia?
• How did theologians explain the meaning of this Jesus person in the first 500 years or so of the church which pretty much established orthodoxy for the rest of history for the western church?
• How did we go from house churches meeting in secret in the 1st century to an overblown church that needed reforming in a bad way by the 16th century?

It was in the out-of-class time that we really learned about church, if by 'church' we mean a community of the faithful. Morning prayer and Eucharist every day, spiritual direction groups, dinners with friends, chatting over coffee, supporting one another in our struggles with new life as grad students, mourning with those who lost family over these last months, celebrating with those being ordained or having their children baptized, commiserating with those catching the flu just as exams are looming - it's been a microcosm of the world here in our little New Haven community on the hill. What we don't generally deal with is the part of the real world that will become our ministry when we leave here. Yes, some students volunteer at the soup kitchen and some at the food pantry. Others who are doing their field work as interns are facing issues of pastoral crises and people in all kinds of physical, emotional and spiritual need. But for those of us in our first semester, we get to sort of ease into it, concentrating on learning to be a divinity student. The world will be there, just as much in need when we're done as it is now.

One other thing that we do as first year seminarians is pray, a lot. Maybe we don't have the time to sit in quiet reflection or journal or meditate as much as we once might have, but with chapel two times a day every day and, quite frankly, learning about God all day every day, it all feels like an act of prayer. How very Benedictine, don't you think? Ora et labora. But for the next three weeks, my labora is complete and I can rest for a while and really reflect on these past months before the craziness starts up again. Such joy awaits!

Let the madness begin!

I think there is a reason most people don't take five classes in seminary: it means lots of papers and (gulp) five final exams. In three of the classes, we had midterms so got a pretty good idea of what the expectations are, but in those two classes with no midterms, I've got pages and pages and still more pages of class notes and readings from which I have to somehow decide what's important. This should be interesting.

I'm feeling very relieved today to say that I have completed the last of four final papers. Woohoo! While I miss Tim, I'm glad he was in California this weekend for Davis' adoption ceremony (Gotcha Day) so that I could stay here in my cozy New Haven nest and write. Sadly, I was not able to prove that Arius was not a heretic, but I did conclude that, given the context of his times, he wasn't as far off the rails as his opponents would have us believe. That makes me feel better.

And on top of all of this, it's Advent, my favorite season in the church year. It's a time to get ready, not so much for the craziness that has become Christmas but for the inbreaking of God into the world. We're in that in-between time when Christ has come and just as surely will come again. We had John the Baptist yelling at us from Matthew's gospel this morning - REPENT! What's that? No happy holidays and ho,ho,ho? As a priest friend of mine says, there's a reason you won't find John on any holiday cards. But he is, all the same, a necessary part of this season. Someone's got to break through the madness in our world and get our attention. Repent! Turn around! There is something bigger and better and more enduring than the things we grasp so tightly in our closed fists. What's more important than welcoming the stranger, or feeding the poor, or clothing the cold, or housing the homeless, or caring for the sick, or visiting the prisoner, or loving the mentally ill? What's more important than ridding ourselves of the hate that separates us from our brothers and sisters next door and on the other side of the planet? What's more important than proclaiming that our lives are abundantly full and there is enough for everyone? What's more important than saying that it's time for the killing to stop? What's more important than making sure that all of God's children have the opportunity to grow up in warmth and safety? What's more important than setting a table and saying to all who will listen, "Come, you are welcome here?"

Maranatha! Come, Lord Jesus!

A marathon

Tim and I have had many excellent adventures during our years together - an Ohio State-Michigan game at the Big House in Ann Arbor, a hot air balloon ride, and travels around the globe. One thing we never would have expected to find ourselves doing is standing along Kelly Drive on a chilly November day cheering on thousands of people we don't even know as they ran in the Philadelphia Marathon. That is just where we found ourselves today, waiting for one runner in particular: our girl, Rachel. Funny thing is, she's never been a runner. When she wasn't swimming long distances, she could always be found with the more physical sports pursuits like water polo, heaving a shot put, or throwing a javelin. But last spring, she decided that she would take up running and followed a plan that would train her for a marathon. Through persistence and long hours running in San Diego and every other city in which she found herself for work (including New Haven), she was ready. She finished in a very respectable 4:37:21, not that her time really mattered. It was the running and finishing that were the point.

What made this marathon day even more special is that it would have been Seth's 26th birthday. Rachel ran 26 miles, one for every year since his birth, even if he only made it to 24. These significant dates and milestones are difficult for us, but today was a day to celebrate Rachel and her life while remembering Seth through her big day and her accomplishment. Such a bittersweet day it was. Our grieving will continue to be a marathon of its own, but for today, we are grateful for a wonderful daughter and are so proud of her.

And what of all those thousands of runners for whom we cheered today? It was such a wonderful experience! Their running bibs had their names in big letters, so we could call them out by name as they went by and encourage them. I was particularly enthusiastic for the runners at and past middle age, marvelling at their courage and fortitude! Many of the runners thanked us as they passed, and many looked like they'd never make it. One guy was carrying a Yeungling to enjoy at the end, one was dressed as a gorilla. There was someone dressed as a can of Spam and a young man in a red dress and red shoes. There were two turkeys and one Wonder Woman. I saw one Yalie and two Oregon Ducks. Mostly, the runners looked like plain old people from all walks of life who, for whatever reason, somehow set on a goal of running a marathon. To us, it didn't matter who they were or what they looked like. This was a very egalitarian event - we cheered for everyone: fast, slow, tall, short, thin and not-so-thin, a host of ethnicities, constumed or not. For all of our excellent adventures, I've decided that I think the world would be a better place if everyone had a marathon experience, running or spectating.

Remembrance Day

I know that in this country, we refer to November 11th as Veteran's Day. I actually like the Commonwealth designation of 'remembrance,' though. Today we remember the wars and the dead soldiers and the lives immutably altered. It's also Armistice Day which is a day when peace was achieved. No, not permanent peace, but peace for 1918, such as it was. There are many ways to observe this day: fly a flag, wear a poppy, say prayers. I'm going to give you and update on Jay.
You may remember that Jay was my son's best friend growing up. He lost three limbs in Afghanistan back in August and, when last I wrote, he was in Bethesda Naval Hospital, destined for a long stint at Walter Reed for physical therapy. I, and many others, have been praying for him and his family everyday, sickened by what the war did to him and so many others, but loving him for his courage and for doing what he thought was right.

Today, just over three months later, Jay is not even in the hospital. He's in a hotel on the grounds of Walter Reed getting outpatient physical therapy twice a day. He walks on what they call 'shorty legs' for now until he gets used to them. Then he'll get regular length legs. He has a prosthetic left arm and manages pretty well with the thumb and forefinger on his right hand that survived the blast.

The pictures I've seen of him look just like the Jay I've known for over 20 years, but he's missing body parts that he used to have. That breaks my heart. But you know what he says? He says that he's thankful for the injuries he didn't receive - no head trauma, no internal injuries, no death. And now he's getting himself around on his own, refusing to let this beat him. It's an amazing act of courage. No one, and I mean no one, could have expected him to be doing so well so soon.

I hate what this war did to Jay, but I can honor him because I love him, just as we can honor all of those who fought for what they believed even if it meant death or dismemberment. I hate war and long for peace. That is my deepest prayer on this Remembrance Day.

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At our community worship this morning, we also observed Armistice Day (it was led by a British professor). As part of it, students from various countries seriously affected by past wars spoke of the impact on their countries - a Pole on the invasion on two fronts in WWII, a Greek telling of the 86% of Greek Jews that were exterminated, a Korean lamenting the invasion, the deaths and the subsequent division of her country. This, too, is why remembrance is so needed not just on this day but on all days. We remember the sacrifices of life, but we also need to remember the toll that it takes on our global community. Remember so that we can all work for peace and reconciliation in our world.

While there were no poppies to hand out today, we were given poppy-colored slips of paper with the name of someone lost in Iraq or Afghanistan so that we could pray for them throughout the day. So today, I am praying for Capt. Ryan A. Beaupre from Bloomington, IL and his family.

And I will remember.

On common prayer and other things

At Berkeley morning prayer and Eucharist this morning, our Dean, Joe Britton, spoke about 'common' prayer, pointing out that the beauty of this book that we Episcopalians use and read and love allows us to sit in a gathering with others whether we feel like praying or not, or sit in a cozy chair at home reading the daily office whether we feel like it or not, yet someone, somewhere is also praying those very words, and maybe that person feels like it and is able to sort of carry us along and lift us up when we are too tired or too sad or too worn out to feel like doing it ourselves. Then on those days when we are in a better place, our more in-tune prayer can similarly lift up someone else who just doesn't feel very connected at that time and in that place.

There's a real comfort in Dean Britton's words for everyone, I think, but especially for those of us to whom he actually spoke them. This time of year is stress-filled. Even with successful mid-terms behind me, there is no time to rest on those laurels because, with three weeks of class remaining (not counting reading week), there are 4 papers and 5 final exams looming on the not-too-distant horizon. Supposedly I'm doing all of this for God, but bringing myself to prayer with all the craziness of the seminary life is not always the easiest thing in the world. It's good to know that I don't have to be the one carrying the praying on any given day, but on those days that I can, it's also good to know that there might just be someone there who needs me to pray for us both.

Interestingly, in the Old Testament lesson from Haggai yesterday, God encourages the people to get to the work of rebuilding the temple. "Work," God says, "for I am with you" (Hag. 2:4). God promises to "shake the heavens and the earth and the sea and the dry land, and I will shake all the nations" so that the temple can be rebuilt. God is not asking anything of the Israelites except to work. God will take care of everything else.

So I will continue to work, trusting that God is taking care of everything else - Tim and Rachel and Yohann and the pups and friends and all the other people and things that I love. My job is to work at building this vocation, equipping myself for the life of an ordained person. I think this also means that God is taking care of the prayer part, too, as I pray in common with others in my immediate community as well as across the globe. That part isn't always up to me, either. Thanks be to God.

Amazing things

One of the great privileges of studying at a world-class university is the access to things I could not imagine seeing or even perhaps knowing about otherwise. This afternoon, some of us from patristics class went on a field trip over to Yale's West Campus to participate in a private viewing of ancient Christian art that is under restoration. Dura-Europos was a 3rd century C.E. garrison city on the eastern edge of the Roman Empire on the Euphrates in modern-day Syria. There was a house church there, the ruins of which were discovered in the 1920's and excavated in 1932. Yale partnered on the financing and excavation so has in its possession the fragment paintings from the baptistery in this house church. These paintings are the oldest surviving Christian monumental art known to historians. And we got to just walk around them and photograph them with our phones and talk with the curator and professors who know more than a little bit about this place. Go look in an art history book and you'll see Dura-Europos in there. It's staggering to the imagination!

The art contained in the baptistery - a separate room from the assembly because people were baptized in the nude - contained paintings on plaster of Jesus as the Good Shepherd, Peter going out to Jesus on the water, the healing of the paralytic, David and Goliath, and five women processing toward what looks like a sarcophagus. We (or the experts) don't know if this is actually the wise virgins who trim their lamps as they wait for the bridegroom (Matthew 25:1-13) or the women going to the tomb on Easter (Mark 16:1). There are no Gospel accounts of five women going to anoint Jesus' body, but who knows how biblical passages were interpreted on the edge of the empire? Some of the images are extremely vague and are awaiting the restorers touch. Some are clear and have already been restored. The painting of one of the virgins reveals a beautiful young woman with a veil, her lamp in her hand and some sort of bowl or vessel in the other. Her lips are painted, her eyes are deep, and her expression is one of placidness as well as expectation. And this painting is over 17 centuries old! It's humbling to see.

For a change, I am not on my way home on a Friday afternoon as Tim is bringing my car up to me. I flew home from a NC wedding last Sunday and have been happily carless all week. We'll be going to the Yale-Penn football game tomorrow, followed by watching the Phillies tomorrow night in Game 6. And of course, there will be more mid-term studying as all of this is happening.

It is fall in New England. The leaves are putting on quite a display and there is a nip in the air. It's a beautiful time of year here, and I am warmed by the friends I have met and the work we have all accomplished in this first semester of the year. It's flying by!

Midterm - only 5 1/2 to go!

This is called 'reading week.' It's supposedly the time divinity students catch up on all the reading they were supposed to have done and maybe, just maybe, get started on the next crop. At YDS, it's also convocation week, the week that classes hold reunions and the Beecher Lectures take place and all kinds of special events are planned such as a visit from the Presiding Bishop, Katharine Jefferts-Schori. While I hate to miss all the fun, I do believe the wise course for me was to come home (which I did) and write papers (which I did, although I had already finished one before this week) and study (which is next on the list). I have three exams, two next week, on the same day, Hebrew and Old Testament. The third exam isn't until the following Monday, so that gives me more time to study for that one. Hebrew continues to be a challenge, and I really want to do well on the exam, but I can't just ignore OT, either. Oh, what to do, what to do...

I've actually just completed my paper for patristics. It felt like a bit of a struggle which probably means it's not very good. I'll have Tim read it and I also plan to send it to a writing tutor that they very kindly provide at YDS. As much as I like to write, it's a whole different ballgame when you have to make an argument and back it up, especially since the professor knows all this stuff backwards and forwards and can probably shoot holes in my argument ten ways to Sunday. And what, you ask, was my argument? That no matter what the orders of ministry - bishop, priest and deacon - may have become in later years of the church, they were at least established in outline as ways of managing the fledgling church before end of the 1st century. Yeah, there are a lot of really smart people who would argue against that, including my beloved, but that's my story and I'm stickin' to it.

I'm very relieved that the paper is at least drafted before we leave for North Carolina on Wednesday with an overnight in D.C. so that Tim can conduct some business on Thursday morning. At least I'll only have to worry about exams while we're travelling, and I may need to take some time out from the wedding festivities of Kate and Bryan. But it will be so much fun to see the happy couple and Rachel & Yohann and my mom. You didn't expect reading week to be all work, now did you?