Julie’s News from Maryland

In our liturgy class this week, we talked about how liturgy, our worship service, is a place where we rehearse how to engage with the rest of the world. Basically, many of the things we do in liturgy are an opportunity for us to practice how we might interact in the real world. I’ve never really thought of it this way, but I like this idea.

Here’s an example: During the service, we confess our sins. Basically, we acknowledge that we aren’t perfect and that we make mistakes. Sometimes we accidently hurt other people, and sometimes we are selfish and do things on purpose. In either case, we say out loud that we screwed up and we ask God for forgiveness. Then, God forgives us. Now, if that is really practice for the real world, that would mean that in the real world when we hurt someone we care about, on purpose or accidentally, that we own up to it. We just say, “Hey, I screwed up. Sorry about that.” And then the other person has a chance to forgive us, or maybe even apologize for their part in it. It also means that when someone apologizes to us, we do what God does: forgive them and let it go.

Now that I’m thinking about liturgy this way, I can think of all kinds of things we practice in liturgy. Stewardship is another example. If we are pledging and giving a tithe to God, we are practicing trusting God to care for us and provide for us. If we could learn to trust God to provide for us in our daily life and not just at church, think of how much less we would stress about money? And what about praying together? During the prayers of the people, we lift our concerns to God. We tell God about the deepest desires of our hearts. What if we did that with each other? What if we went into the real world and were in authentic relationships with the people around us such that we could share our deepest desires and concerns? Instead of having to appear like we have it all together all of the time, we could really be real with each other. Instead of expecting other people to be perfect and match our expectations, we could really talk about all that is happening in our lives.

There are so many other examples that I haven’t even thought of yet. I know that I’ll approach my time in liturgy differently with this new idea in my head. I hope that I’ll think more carefully about what I’m doing in worship and how I might be able to apply my rehearsal to my real life. I love liturgy, I love the sacrament of the Eucharist, I love feeling the Holy Spirit move through a congregation that is intentionally worshipping God together. It has always been such a moving and uplifting experience for me - often so cathartic. But, somehow it has always seemed just a little disconnected from my life. As if it was its own category of thing, separate from the real world. Now I see how it ties in to the whole thing. So much to think about now!

Yesterday, I preached my first sermon for my preaching class. Our instructor requires that we stand in the big formal pulpit to preach. It was very intimidating to be in that space. Just standing in that spot, towering above the room, with the microphone in front of my face was such an unusual experience. The space limits my ability to move around as much I am used to doing. I had to be very intentional about not waving my arms around and not shifting my weight too much. I had to plant my feet and use gestures very intentionally. I practiced several times just saying the sermon aloud in that spot and I’m glad that I did, it helped make me feel a bit more comfortable.

Interestingly, after I wrote the sermon, I wasn’t all that crazy about it. I just wasn’t as excited about my ideas and my images as I have been for previous sermons that I written. I felt like it was sort of mediocre and not very original. But, it was what I came up with so I decided to just go with it. After I practiced it aloud I felt better about it - something about it worked better aloud than in print. And, I decided that not every sermon I write is going to be the best or most exciting or most original. The reality is that I’m going to write sermons every week and only a handful will be really remarkable. So, I decided that I’d just “walk the dog proudly” as my friend says - I’d just deliver the sermon with all the confidence and authority that I would something that I was really excited about. It turned out much better than I expected.

I got great feedback from my peers about what worked and what didn’t work. They taught me a lot about my style and what helped them relate to me and what I did that was awkward and ineffective.

The text that is the basis for the sermon is Mark 8:27-38. The sermon follows.

Upside Down

When I graduated from high school, I went to Disneyland with my classmates for ‘Grad Nite.’ On Grad Nite, Disneyland opened it doors from midnight to 6am just for graduating seniors. We made the trip by bus, arriving at midnight and then returning home immediately afterwards. Naturally, none of us slept on the 4-hour bus trip home as we were entirely too busy gossiping about who had been seen making out with who near the wishing well at Cinderella’s castle. When my mom picked me up and drove me home, I remember thinking that I was more tired than I’d ever been in my whole life and all I wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep.

When I arrived home, however, things weren’t quite as I expected them to be. First, my bedroom door was closed. My bedroom door was never closed, so immediately I recognized it as out of the ordinary. I opened the door and saw streamers criss-crossing the room, balloons hung all over the place, and a big banner on the wall that said “Congratulations Julie.”

“Isn’t this cute?” I thought to myself. “My friends decorated my room while I was gone.” But, as I looked more closely at the room, beyond the balloons and the streamers, I discovered that there was more to the “decoration” than I had first realized. Everything in the room was upside down. The posters that lined my walls had been untacked, turned upside down, and tacked in again. The rug on my floor was upside down. All of the figurines in my cabinet were facing backwards. The comforter on my bed, my pillows, the books on my desk, everything that could be upside down was upside down.

At that moment all I wanted to do was sleep. Yet I was compelled to right the room. As tired as I was, as lifeless as I felt, I spent the next hour cleaning the room and putting things back in their right order. I turned the figurines so that they would face forward, I righted the rug, reorganized the things on my desk, and put the posters back into the right-side-up position. I could not sleep in the chaos and disorganization of the upside down room.

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In today’s gospel story, the disciples have a similar experience. Peter identifies Jesus as the Messiah. The disciples have opened the door and they have seen streamers and balloons and a big sign saying, “Victory.” Because, you see, the disciples have an expectation about what will come next. The disciples expect the Messiah to be a king. And, what do kings do in the Old Testament? Kings kick butt and build temples. The disciples look at the Jesus and see a king that is going to kick some Roman butt.

But Jesus shows them what is beyond what they see in the streamers and balloons of the victory party they are imagining in their heads. He asks them to look beyond their initial view. Not only is he not going to kick butt and build a temple, but he is going to suffer, be rejected, die and rise again. In the mind of the disciples, that is totally upside down.

So, naturally, Peter does what any of us would do, he tries to turn the room right-side-up again. The gospel writer doesn’t tell us what Peter says when he rebukes Jesus, but I’ve always imagine that it goes something like this, “No. No. That’s not going to happen. You’re the Messiah. You aren’t going to suffer and die. Jesus, this is just your insecurities talking. No one will let that happen to you.” But Jesus won’t allow Peter to turn the room over again. Jesus rebukes Satan! Jesus exposes that Satan is setting his mind on human things and not on divine things. Jesus suggests that the disciples’ view of what should happen, the human view, is really the upside-down to the divine.

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It would be nice if, in the next part of the gospel story, Jesus had put a little effort into making us feel a little more comfortable in the upside down room. He could have fed them or performed a miracle. Something that would have made us less disoriented. But, no. Jesus continues to turn things in the room upside down.

Jesus calls the crowd and his disciples so that he can tell them something. Now, it is important here that he calls the crowd. It is important that Jesus says this to everyone. This doesn’t just apply to disciples. It doesn’t just apply to the ‘in’ group. This one applies to everybody. And here is what he says,

“If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”

That sounds totally upside-down to me. You know, every time I hear this I think to myself, “Who would buy this?” “Who would follow a leader that told them that in order to live they have to die and if you try to save yourself you will definitely die?

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But, when I look beyond my initial impression, when I look beyond the room I’ve constructed for myself, I realize that what Jesus is saying is true. I know from my own experience that when I’m chasing after my own life – my own dreams, my own concerns, my own worries, my own definitions of success – I lose my life. I become so focused on the goal that I have set for myself, that I lose track of what is important. And I’m never satisfied. No matter how much I achieve, no matter how much I get, no matter how good the grades are, I continue to want more. I’m never satisfied and I always feel empty.

And this is where Jesus and the power of the cross save us from ourselves. Jesus exposes to us that our room is upside down.

Jesus calls us to live in a new way – in the right-side-up room. Jesus calls us to deny ourselves. To limit ourselves. To get out of the way. Jesus calls us to let go of the things that prevent us from participating in the kingdom of God and instead leave us feeling empty and unsatisfied.

And, instead, he tells us to take up our cross. Now, I want to say a couple of things about this. This doesn’t mean that we stoically endure the everyday tragedies of life. Nor does it mean that we learn to live with our shortcomings and failings – “Oh, my big mouth is my cross to bear.” No. Taking up our cross means that we make a deliberate choice to do something that we don’t have to do, but we do it because it serves Jesus in building up the kingdom of God. Taking up our cross means that we take a burden which we are under no obligation to take, except the obligation of God’s covenantal love.

What happens when we live in this room? I’m convinced that we experience new life. I believe that we are energized and empowered by the Holy Spirit. We find ourselves connected to others in authentic and meaningful ways. We feel grounded and stable. It is not easy. It does not mean that we don’t get tired. It doesn’t mean that bad things won’t happen. But we do experience life in a whole new way.

I think today’s gospel invites us to take a look at the rooms that we have constructed for ourselves – to measure them against divine standards. What in your room is upside down? Where are you chasing your dreams and following your own standards for success? What is right side up? Where are you denying yourself so as to serve Jesus and participate in the building up of the kingdom of God? Where can you make changes to make your room more like the room that Jesus describes?

Last night, a group of guys that live in the biggest apartment on campus (seriously, it is 4 floors) hosted a party.  It was so much fun.  There were drinks on almost every floor.  Yummy food.  Lots of fun people.   On the lowest floor, where the kitchen and dining room are, one of my classmates started a game of beer pong.  If you’re not familiar with beer pong, as I wasn’t, the basics are that you arrange paper cups partially filled with beer in a pyramid formation at either end of the table.  The game is played with teams of two.  Each team attempts to toss ping-pong balls into the other team’s glasses.  Naturally, when a ball lands in the glass, the players drink.  It was very entertaining to watch - particularly to see a professor and his wife beat two of the younger students.   I chatted with tons of people and just generally had a really good time.  I’m really liking the new class of students that arrived.  They are all really friendly and just nice to be around.  

Today, we took the kids to the Queens County Farm where they were having their annual fair.  We went to this last year and it was so much fun that we made the trip again.  It is quite a trip, too: 40 minutes by train another 40 minutes on a bus.  But, it is such a fun day that it is worth it.  I’m always astonished by how few people attend these types of events in New York.  It wasn’t crowded at all.  I don’t think the kids waited in a line to ride anything.  There were plenty of seats at the magic show and they were right up front for the frog jumping competition.  Best of all, after a week of rain, it was sunny and warm outside.  It was so great to spend the day outside in the sun!  Ah, I do miss the weather in California. 

Classes started last week and things are shaping up to be a good semester. I’m taking five classes this semester:

• Systematic Theology
• Liturgics
• Pastoral Theology
• Preaching
• The History of the Episcopal Church (a 2-credit elective)

It is clear to me that Systematic Theology is going to be the most difficult course from a brain-work perspective. I also think it is going to be the most interesting. I can tell that I will need to work hard in this class, but I look forward to doing my best to immerse myself in the discipline and learn what I can. Actually, I think all of my classes will be very interesting and informative this semester.

In addition to my classes, I am also doing “field education” this year, which is an internship in a parish. The program requires that I spend 6 hours a week doing work for the parish and that I meet regularly with the rector who will act as a mentor to me. The rector and I have met and she has given me a couple of assignments for the semester. I know that I am going to learn a lot from her and from the congregation and that what I learn is going to be wildly practical for me as I go forward from here.

I have noticed a change in my mindset this semester as I approach my classes. As with any school situation, sometimes there are things about professors that students find challenging: discrepancies between what they say and what they do,  sensitivity to their particular pet peeves, perceived abuse of their authority, etc. In my first two semesters, I was completely unable to make allowances for these types of things. I found myself frustrated that professors in a graduate school were not as professional or as pastoral as I wanted them to be.  I have found a different perspective on this that is helping me a great deal this semester. I’ve realized that professors are people. Shockingly, professors suffer from the same insecurities, fears, and misconceptions that plague the rest of us.  And, they address those in the same dysfunctional ways as everyone else.  I’ve figured out that when I am frustrated with someone, it is generally because I am bumping up against their brokenness.  How can I be a priest if I can’t manage to deal with people’s brokenness?  I’m working to be mindful of this when I encounter bad behavior.  I am making a conscious effort to remember that professors are people and that I need to make room for them to be as broken and screwed up as the rest of us.  Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.  Man, that is so hard for me.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but curiosity is an essential component in pastoral care. And, it would seem, I suffer from a deplorable lack of natural curiosity. In conversation with my fellow CPE classmates, I discovered that I don’t seem to be as naturally curious as other people. I don’t think to ask questions to learn more about what people are talking about. While other folks are reluctant to ask questions for fear of seeming too forward or from a cultural perspective of thinking that things are none of their business, I find that I don’t ask questions because it doesn’t occur to me to ask questions.

As I was reflecting on this recently, I remember something that one of my cousin’s husbands used to ask. When my mother and her female cousins get together, he would say, “When you guys are talking to each other, who listens?” It was a joke but it is also an interesting insight. The women in my family tend to spend most of their time sharing about their own lives and their own experiences such that they all talk at the same time.

One of the crucial elements of chaplaincy is helping people empty the cup. I think I mentioned this metaphor that my supervisor used about the cup. When a patient and family arrive in the hospital, they are usually full of emotions - like a full cup. If the chaplain tries to add anything to that cup - reassurance, solutions to problems, etc. - they just fall out of the cup because their is no room for them. The chaplain’s job is to help people empty the cup; help them get the emotions out - listen, ask more questions, name the emotions. Once the cup is empty enough, people will be ready to start filling it with good things again.

This metaphor helped me to think differently about how I interact with people. When a patient was talking, I practiced listening and reflecting back what I heard them say. “Oh. It sounds like you were really scared when that happened.” Or, “I can see how you would be frustrated in that situation.” Things like that. When I got more comfortable with that, I practiced asking questions about what they were telling me. “Can you tell me about what happened that day?” “What was it like when you learned your diagnosis?” “Did you experience God at that time of your life?”

And, in the midst of practicing these skills, I also practiced a totally new skill for me: not offering any anectdotes about my own experiences. I constantly restrained myself from talking about places I’d been or things that I had done that were similar. I kept my mouth shut about myself and my own life and I listened and asked questions. And, as I did that, I discovered how valued people feel when they are being heard. I could see in their faces how delighted people were when I remembered from a previous visit what they had told me. I could tell by their responses how important it was to them that I was taking them seriously, even when they felt confused and out of control.

It will be my ongoing challenge to continue to practice these skills, not just in pastoral care settings but in all of my relationships. I hope to be more mindful of asking questions. I can already feel that I am more curious - that I want to know more than I ever have before. The real difficulty will be in keeping my own mouth shut. As a former mentor used to say to me, “Julie, God gave you two ears and one mouth - use them in that proportion.”

In CPE, the members of my group came from various parts of the country: the south, the northeast, and the west coast. In our group discussions, we identified important cultural differences that had influenced each of us and the way that we interact in the world. No matter where else we’ve lived or how long we’ve been away from our home town, our assumptions about the world were formed and created in the midst of the culture in which we were raised. Suprisingly, we found some strong assumptions and ideas that impacted our perceptions and interactions.

For me I realized that, coming from Silicon Valley, I expect the world (and especially universities) to value innovation. In Silicon Valley, our universites (Stanford, UCSF, UC Berkeley, etc.) are places of innovation and invention. They are on the cutting edge of technology in every field and are constantly looking for new ways to do things. Companies like Yahoo, Google, and Sun Microsystems (my former employer) developed out of projects at Stanford university; these are companies that have changed the way we all interact with the world whether we know it or not. Innovation is a way of life - it is encouraged and rewarded. Everyone is always thinking about how to do things more efficiently, more effectively, and in ways that reach new market segments.

I also identified another interesting cornerstone of northern california culture: our rebellious nature. When someone tells us that something is a “requirement” our first instinct is to say, “Oh, yeah? Make me.” It’s not that we don’t value the need for rules and requirements, it is just that we don’t see the need to follow a bunch of rules that don’t have any purpose. If someone can explain the requirement and why it is necessary, we’ll all get on board and follow it to completion. But if a rule is in place because it is been there so long that no one remembers why, or it is there because someone wants to abuse their power, or it is there because it ‘has always been that way’, we’ll work to change it or at least to expose it as less than a valuable use of our time to worry about it. Our spirit of entreprenuership compels us to think beyond what other people “require” of us.

I have begun to see how these assumptions have caused struggle and difficulty for me on the east coast and in seminary. First, the east coast does not share the rebellious nature of the west coast in the same way. While the east coast is a very thoughtful place, it is very hierarchical and has distinct rules and structures that everyone seems to follow. People don’t really value those that want to challenge or change the system. Secondly, while I can’t speak for other universities, I can say that seminary does not think about innovation in the same way that the universities in Silicon Valley think of innovation. 

Exposing my own assumptions and perceptions has already helped me to feel more settled. I have a broader understanding of my own internal struggles and the reasons that I feel so out of place sometimes. I hope that these insights about myself will help motivate me to ask others about their assumptions and to learn more about what drives their interactions with me.