Dream diary for the church

Upon request for the leadership meeting at my church... a letter describing my dreams for us. 

As many of you know, I’m a student studying Pastoral Theology and Pastoral Care. What this field truly does, however, might be something of a mystery. There are technical definitions that place it in line with other academic disciplines, but the spirit, the essence of pastoral theology and care is why our church is important to me.

As our understanding of the world shifts, how we understand pastoral care changes. For many years, it meant caring for the inner world of a person’s life, the spirit, specifically within a Judeo-Christian context. It still does, but now we see that the ethos behind it expands much broader than that. For example, it is also communal and inter-relational. Professor Barbara McClure wrote that pastoral care is “an intentional enacting and embodying of a theology of presence, particularly in response to suffering or need, as a way to increase among people the love of God and of neighbor.”[1]

As one can imagine, teaching how to DO pastoral care is a tricky business. Upon first reflection, it seems what people need in order to do pastoral care are actually personality traits, like empathy or compassion. How can one teach empathy? How can one teach wisdom? Instead of assuming these are inherent characteristics, however, those who advocate for spiritual formation inform us that these behaviors of empathy or compassion are not only learned, they must be deliberately studied, intentionally practiced, and constantly encouraged.

Our church, like all faith communities, seeks to enact and embody a theology, one symbolized by the opening statement of worship – “No matter who you are or where you are on life's journey, you are welcome here.” Being welcoming and being hospitable are not just practices of theology, they are practices of pastoral care.

My dream for our congregation is to dig deep, study, and dialogue with sacred intention how we want to live out our theology and pastoral care. Being chair of Christian Service Committee this year gave me new perspective how hard it is to step away from all the action in order to truly understand why we are acting and how the acting shapes and forms us spiritually. There are trained theologians who specialize in helping congregations live out the theology they wish to embody. I strongly encourage we invite these specialists into our circle as the plans for capital campaigns and restructuring the physical and practical aspects of our church are imagined. While we welcome multiple perspectives within the UCC, there is still a core theology, a core value that we represent. It is bigger than a tagline or a slogan. It is centuries of theological process and development. Let’s embrace it in all its meaning.

Below are some quotes about hospitality to ponder--- quotes that demonstrate hospitality defines our social justice action as much as our worship as much as our fellowship--- Hospitality is at the core of my life as a Christian, as a minister and hospice chaplain, as a student of theology, and as fellow human on this planet.

'The rest must go hungry, their community dehumanised, and the earth pillaged and the earth polluted. One could sum up all this with the observation that globalization knows nothing of hospitality.'– Mercy Amba Oduyoye

Hospitality means we take people into the space that is our lives and our minds and our hearts and our work and our efforts. Hospitality is the way we come out of ourselves. It is the first step toward dismantling the barriers of the world. Hospitality is the way we turn a prejudiced world around, one heart at a time.— Joan Chittister in Wisdom Distilled from the Daily

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[1]   (2011-09-23). The Wiley Blackwell Companion to Practical Theology (Wiley Blackwell Companions to Religion) (p. 270). Wiley. Kindle Edition.

Reflections on African Women's Theology - On Religion and Health 2

Some reflections on readings for seminary class: Global Theologies of Women of Color 

African Women, Religion, and Health Ch. 9-13

Ch. 9 – “Women Poverty, and HIV in Zimbabwe: An Exploration of Inequalities in Health Care” by Sophia Chirongoma

Chirongoma introduces the reader to the reality of living in Zimbabwe as the health of its citizens is threatened by poverty, insufficient health services, malnourishment, and the continuous spread of HIV/AIDS. She calls upon the church to provide the presence of God and Jesus in the lives of those suffering. She suggests they emphasize sharing one another’s burdens and “seeking corporately to correct injustices that deny access to health care or food security for the poor” (184). My favorite part of her theological reflection was her Christology for women. “Women and all those who suffer from deprivation should find encouragement and consolation in Jesus as the caring compassionate healer who is outraged by the injustices of poverty, violence, inequality, and sickness” (183). Having read Carroll Watkins Ali’s Survival and Liberation this week, I see similar themes of survival and liberation within the stories of these African women. , I’m thinking about the Christology Watkins Ali lifts up from Jacquelyn Grant’s work. The Christ who saves souls is inadequate for people in the midst of suffering. Jesus must be made real through not only being a compassionate healer, but also a co-sufferer. Chirongoma calls the church in Zimbabwe to represent such Christology. Just as in Watkins Ali and Grant’s work, pastoral care and church care in such settings is not only to ease the physical suffering, but to accompany and walk with those who suffer

Ch. 10 “Women and Peacemaking: The Challenge of a Non-Violent Life” by Susan Rakoczy, IHM

Evelyn Underhill became an inspiration to me during my own time in the wilderness, rediscovering what my faith and God looked outside of my fundamentalist and harmful upbringing. She intrigued me on many levels, but mostly the pursuit of spiritual and theological understanding on her own terms. The way Rackczy summarizes Underhill’s transformation into pacificism exemplifies what I continue to admire about her. Seeing faith life as a journey, a process that is ever unfolding as our own self-realization develops was transformative to me and helped me return to Christianity. Without her influence, one that wasn’t only cognitive nor only affective, but both, I probably would have never entered seminary. Pacifism is a concept that I struggle with and cannot claim as my own, despite, admiring so much of its goals. I struggle with it because pacifism would not participate in the culture and society, the capitalistic systems within which I live. I cannot claim to be a pacifist if I participate in the structural destruction of others.

Ch.  13 "Navigating Experiences of Healing: A Narrative Theology of Eschatological Hope as Healing" by Fulata Lusungu Moyo

Such a beautiful piece, one with depth of expression combined with theological thinking. Moyo and I disagree upon some fundamental metaphysics, about the nature of God and creation, but the conclusion we get to is similar… healing takes on multiple forms and we may or may not have control over the form of healing that takes place. I would love to hear more of her musings about prayer and  faith healing vs. miracles. She summarized the premise of chaplaincy and chaplain training in pastoral care when she speculated what kind of healing, what kind of prayer would Solomon have requested if they had only thought to ask. Death is a communal event in some ways, but it is also a personal journey, one that is taken alone, or at least, between God and person. As a hospice chaplain, I’ve helped many people who believe in faith healing and miracles process what it means when death still comes. It is not easy and definitely shakes up faith in God, but mostly faith in oneself. I see myself giving this article to people who struggle in similar ways, to see how one woman processes such a journey.

Reflections on African Women's Theology - On Religion and Health 1

Some reflections on readings for seminary class: Global Theologies of Women of Color 

African Women, Religion, and Health Ch. 4-6

From the beginning of this reading, I was reminded of our class discussion last week and previous weeks as well. Sarojini Nadar quotes Teresa Okure in the beginning of her essay, describing the unique style of theological study for African women, whose “primary consciousness in doing theology is not method, but life and life concerns- their own and those of their own peoples” (78). These readings are striking contrasts to the political philosophy I’m reading in Cosmopolitan Theology and the history of Pastoral Theology in another class. In fact, after discussing last night Homer Ashby’s Our Home Is Over Jordan: A Black Pastoral Theology (2003), I Nadar’s concern that scholars are just not GETTING it when it comes to truly liberating the texts of the bible. Ashby tries to reimagine the exodus story in new ways for African American Christians to rally together in solidarity. While an admirable exercise and a compelling book in other ways, his deconstruction of the biblical text lacks depth when addressing the displacement and genocide of the Canaanite people. The stark honesty that the African women theologians are demonstrating needs to be heard by more academics, by people who influence the ministers and churches that live out the interpreted example of these texts. Women who experience, witness, and anticipate misogyny, sexual violence, abuse of body and of mind, NEED to have the troubling texts of the bible addressed. Women NEED teachers demonstrating that the Bible is not just for the oppressor. The stories of the bible relate to their lives and speak to each of them in their experience.

I loved how each chapter begins with a re-telling/re-imagining of a biblical text. My initial reaction to Chapter 5’s opening poem surprised me. I realized that my Americanized (and patriarchal) image of Psalm 23 always implies Jesus as the representative of God, the Shepherd. To see the entire psalm retold, lifting up the incarnation of God’s love and care within another, within a woman scholar, took me off guard. But once I got over that reaction, and the bits of shame that my fundamentalist upbringing still influences my perspective, I LOVED it. Now I want to use that psalm to lift up so many other women (and men) who have shepherded me as representatives of God’s love and care.

Related to Chapter 6, I contemplated my role as healer of souls. As a chaplain, I greatly appreciate the concept of a ritual of cleansing and healing after traumatic violence and violation of rape. I wonder how US culture receives such ideas. I am concerned, though not surprised, that men who act so violently are allowed to participate in the regular life of the church, village, and country without any need for cleansing or healing. While women need ways to process and heal from violence and domination out of their control, the dis-ease of the people continues to fester and grow if society does not see the  need for men to heal and reconcile this within themselves.

Reflections on African Women's Theology - On Passionate Compassion

Some reflections on readings for seminary class: Global Theologies of Women of Color

With Passion and Compassion

I loved this reading. To hear so many different voices whose passion shines through is inspiring. The power of the words of these women scholars derives from the wisdom acquired through marginalization, suffering, even abuse. To hear one proclaim hope in a future free from suffering when she, herself, is suffocating within a reality of oppression, is to hear the Christ-event incarnated, to hear the prophets of God call us to solidarity.

So many quotes stand out, but the opening page of the first essay, “Church Women of Africa: A Theological Community”, describes the situation of the church so succinctly. “The Christian church has suffered and is suffering from a growing cultural alienation because evangelization has not been that of cultural exchange but of cultural domination or assimilation” (3). I knew from that quote, these women, speaking from their own unique worldview, are prophets to the entire Christian world and that I would learn much from their wisdom. At first, the premise of the book to base a Woman’s theology of the church upon the Bible made me uncomfortable. I grew up in a fundamentalist misogynistic church that “claimed”, as so many evangelical churches do, to be directly inspired by the bible. But later, the authors explain that the source of theologizing is not only the Bible, but that “revelation has to be interpreted and applied to our contemporary situations and experiences,” including the particular experience of women (8).

In the second essay, by Dorothy Ramodibe, she posits that women and men cannot work together to build a church based upon the examples of the past and the structures that keep women suffering inequality and injustice. Ramodibe asks “Which church are we building?...Women want to change the church and not simply “improve” it. Women want liberation of the church from men” (15). And, “men also need liberation from their prejudices of masculinity” (20).

Therese Souga, in the third essay on the view of African women on Christ, writes “Christ is the true Human, the one who makes it possible for all persons to reach fulfillment and to overcome the historic alienations weighing them down” (22). This Christology describes a limitless hope for not only personal transformation, but also community transformation. “False images of women persist in the church in Africa and in turn produce certain negative kinds of behavior. Should not Christology question these images in order to question the real situation of African women and subject it to a critical examination in the light of Jesus Christ?” (25). Christology should not just be about confession of faith and forgiveness of sins, it must use the model Jesus provides as a lens through which to look at our everyday lives, to witness, name, and act upon injustice.

            As we continue to reflect upon the influence of women theologians in church and academia, I am inspired to approach each reflection, each project, with the zeal and love for God and God’s vision for the world that these faithful scholars demonstrate.

Reflections on African Women's Theology - On Mercy Amba Oduyoye

Daughters of Anowa: African Women and Patriarchy

by Mercy Amba Oduyoye   Second Half

In chapter 6 of Daughters of Anowa, Mercy Oduyoye says “The framework of patriarchy is constructed on many pillars. Each requires scrutiny, but patriarchy itself is defective and must be torn down” (153). Within the second half of her book, Oduyoye looks at several of those pillars, including the impact of Western ideology’s influence upon patriarchy. She says “ Traditional norms are enforced whenever they serve to silence women, reduce or eliminate their voices. My observation is that these traditional systems have been strengthened by Western patriarchal structures as national governments and institutions have been formed” (151). The horrific irony of this is exasperated by the prevalence of customary law and ambivalence to civil law. Civil law, constructed from Western models, is limited by lack of provision for important existing structures in Akan society, such as polygyny. Marriage and inheritance for children are often adversely affected by interference of misaligned civil law (161-162). Another angle of patriarchy are the oppressive expectations on African women. Oduyoye says “To expect women to uphold all that is humanizing in African culture and yet deny their participation in the politics of family and nation is like asking them to make bricks without straw (171).

The essay "A Coming Home to Myself: The Childless Woman in teh West Africa Space" which is in the tribute to Letty Russell, is another example of the rich prose with which Oduyoye writes. She shares her personal experience of internalized oppression and shame of the familial and cultural expectations for childbearing and most importantly her journey to acceptance and affirmation of God’s love and call for her life, a call without biological children, but with great potential for creative generation of life. Our reading of this article stems from a question I asked in class about how to care pastorally for women within such a communally driven identity. Dr. Mombo responded graciously, replying that the individual’s experience of pain and suffering is always there and suggested this article as an example. I’m looking forward to discussion in class about this essay. Oduyoye describes thoroughly the despair and grief she lived with during her reproductive years and shares her testimony of grace and healing coming from God, from a specific experience as well as from her theological construction. I wonder, then, what her advice to African ministers and women elders who counsel women would be.

The ambiguity of reproductive potential and reality of infertility are at odds within a woman’s experience. Female autonomy means that we are told we choose whether we want to have children or not. But, in a society that views the choice of childlessness as abnormal, how much choice do we really have in our desires? I envy my friends who have come to the decision to be childfree due to a genuine desire to not have kids. My soul longs for that level of confirmation. But, instead, I am left with fibroids, in a similar way as Mercy, and thanks to access to more testing ability than the actual medical understanding of what’s going on, I am aware of multiple chronic conditions contributing to infertility and access to only vaguely understood interventions that did not work. My passion for reproductive concerns stems from my own experience… one that includes walking down state-assisted hallways with limited access to care as well as walking down privatized hallways with access limited only to your checkbook and your privileges in society. Both were hallways of shame, fear, and grief. 

Reflections on African Women's Theology - On Mercy Amba Oduyoye 1

Daughters of Anowa: African Women and Patriarchy

by Mercy Amba Oduyoye   Part One 

In Daughters of Anowa, Mercy Oduyoye says “Myths and folktales shaped and continue to shape social relations, even under modern political systems” (19). Oduyoye names these important works “religio-cultural corpus” and claims not only does it provide the social history and collective memory of Africa, it also serves as a source of authority for decision making to this day (20). Oduyoye reviews different origin myths throughout African cultures, lifting up the role of the feminine and female in the stories. She also contrasts these stories with stories of the feats of male human being glorified and praised. She traces threads of assumptions about women’s power and sees that often the power of life-giving, life-affirming is reinforced and valued, where as any power used to destroy life is judged as evil (29). While this ideal sounds pretty, it reinforces not just the submission of women to male power, it condemns women who resist being sacrificed or taken advantage of. She concludes the chapter stressing the value of these stories, but also the value of asking who benefits from the moral conclusion of the story as well.

 “We cannot overestimate the power of folktales as vehicles for the transmission of norms” (37). From there, Oduyoye reflects on the language used to describe women within folktales. Reading these folktales reminded me of reflections I had about Disney princesses and gender roles. I wrote a blog reflecting upon viewing of the 2012 Hollywood movie “Snow White and the Huntsman” (http://jadedmystic42.blogspot.com/2012/11/choice-c-neither-evil-queen-or-innocent.html ). It was advertised as portraying a more independent and liberated Snow White and more complicated villain in the Queen. However, as I said in my blog “The most basic theme to draw from this movie is that the only power females have are purity and beauty. And the ultimate power is to have both. Purity and beauty is the inspiration for men to war, for people to unite, and the only way hope transcends despair….However, the impure Queen has an insatiable appetite for strength over men and being in control,  while Snow White is the epitome of purity suffering through darkness and wins the hearts of men through selfless acts of sacrifice and goodness… Snow White's more acceptable journey into queendom is through maintaining her innocence despite temptations and exposure to reality. She woos men of all kinds with her innocence and beauty, the power she holds with these  traits conquers the evil of an empowered decisive woman destroying the kingdom.”

I see similar themes within the work Oduyoye does reflecting on African folktales. There is power within the way women are portrayed within these stories. We hear them from the time we are born and it influences us. As I wrote in my blog, as a young girl, even though I was told I could “save” myself, I was told it was not only easier to be saved by Prince Charming, it also affirmed my value as a human being to be rescued by a man. What does this do to the minds of little girls and boys to be imprinted with these values and how can we resist and challenge it? Consumerism and capitalism in the Global North and colonial infiltration everywhere sells sex, but to little boys and girls, it is about acceptance… which means as we age acceptance translates into sexual identity. It is a long and twisted journey.

In African Women, Letty Russell tells a story of who Mercy Oduyoye is through images of their time together as well as through images within scripture. So many rich and descriptive statements about Oduyoye, but by far, my favorite is “Into the cracks of colonial theology she has poured creative understandings of the church and mission, and become the mother of African women’s theology (46). Russell goes on to claim “They reach out to a compassionate God and work to transform Africa ‘from a hostile space into a nurturing womb and cradle provided by God’” (55). I see Oduyoye challenging the perspectives of woman’s values only relevant to her role as mother to a son, questioning the assumption of devaluation of women who bear no children. This is important to me personally and academically. In reflecting on how shame and judgment are used to limit and oppress women’s influence on community, how can we, as critically conscious citizens, respond? Where does the metaphor/image of woman empowered as a mother figure fit into the mindset of women who choose to not have children, but most importantly women who are infertile. To desire children but to be unable to, raises significant questions of worth and value within the minds of women raised to believe motherhood is a primary role of women. As a pastoral care scholar and chaplain, these questions affect the type of care I teach and give.

1980s Transitions in Pastoral Care: Smith and the Relational Self

Reflections upon 

The Relational Self: Ethics & therapy from a Black church perspective by Archie Smith (1982)

Dr. Smith is a retired professor of pastoral psychology and counseling from PSR. While his training began in theology and ministry, his studies and work expanded to include psychology. He shares much of his context in Chapter 1. The way he shares shows signs of the self-reflexive exercises of his clinical training. He focuses on parental relationships and experiences within his ministry and work. But he also treads into interesting territory as he shares just a glimpse of the social and historical context of his experiences, which is the point of the book, but I imagine is also breaking into new territory in 1982. Smith identifies himself as neorothodox theology and pastoral care in 1966, but also informed of psychological perspectives that enhanced such a view (35).

Question 2: Pastoral Identity within the Text

Smith argues for several identities for the Black Church, and thus the Black pastor, arguing these identities are relevant to all forms of church and ministers. As he names them, I imagine these are the ideals to which he aspires and desires for his students.

One way he organizes his thoughts about pastoral identity is through the idea of Paradigms I, II, and III. Paradigm I encourages the individualized, privatized, personal salvation of most of contemporary American Christian groups (41). This leads pastors and churches to focus on internal sins, struggles, without complex analysis of social systems. (Smith quotes Ruether on page 49). Paradigm II makes ministry politically aware, socially active, and oriented to changing the systems; it is often expressed by rescuing the victims of social oppression (43). The role of church and pastor becomes one of a mediating structure between society and personal experience. Paradigm III ministry emphasizes the interconnectedness of the web of life, recognizes the social-intentional character of the agent, all aiming toward justice in relation to one another (53). Within the discussion of the three paradigms, Smith names multiple identities for Black churches. Some highlights are:

Mediating structure between individual and society (44)

Psychic support to people while advocating social change

Prophetic voice to injustice (46)

Supporting moral vision of people

Empowering them to transform social structures

Source for transcendent values.

In Chapter 2, Smith lists the historical role of the Black preacher as “bringer of glad tidings, a spiritual and psychological healer, the interpreter of the Unknown, the comforter in times of sorrow, the one who gives voice and picturesquely expresses the longings, disappointments, and resentments of a stolen and oppressed people” (76).

In Chapter 4, Smith posits that Black therapists must be intentional to include social and historical context within their reflexive practice. “The context is operative whether the black therapist or client chooses to recognize it or not” (98). The combined effect of race, gender, class, and other oppressions within social experience should be acknowledged. He also suggests that therapy of “black consciousness selfhood includes acceptance of one’s self and others, respect and self-determination, self-initiation, and responsibility for one’s own life. This implies affirmation, integration, and transformation of the symbol “blackness” (105). While not directly stating so, Smith’s description can be applied as a goal for Black churches, as they continue to fulfill the role of a therapeutic institution. A minister’s role, therefore, as trained in both theology and therapy, would be to empower and foster identity development that challenges and transcends societal norms.

I feel the book would benefit from further extrapolation about Smith’s view of a Christian Black liberation ethic. I found myself left with lots of questions about the practical application of such an ethic. While I skimmed Chapter 8 to see if he applied it in the Jonestown case study, I wonder if more could have been done. It seems that a model of care based on therapy and ethics should describe more clearly how the moral objective of freedom is enacted. I also am struggling to pinpoint the places of departure between his theology and my own. I sense that Smith is or similar to an Open Theist or Free Will Theist, which shares many aspects of process thought, but maintains an all-powerful supernatural (or perhaps 19th century natural) God. This thought of God is often used within neoorthodox liberation theologies and helps many connect their modern scientific understanding and postmodern relativism with more traditional theological language. It is not convincing for my own theological ponderings, as I feel there is still a layer of false consciousness, or perhaps cognitive dissonance, within such a model. But the science education most people obtain within dominant structural systems does not encourage expansion beyond a modernist perspective. I find it interesting that liberation theologies use Marx, or in this case, Mead, who were raised theists, but whose philosophies were not. It seems inserting assumptions about God’s nature into a philosophy without God can produce many points of tension. Those tensions, however, do provoke intriguing questions and do disrupt/disturb/push the oppressive structural systems.

Upon further digging, George Herbert Mead, his primary source for the development of the relational self, is a contemporary of Whitehead and they influenced each other’s thoughts and language in compelling ways. What is interesting to me about Mead and Smith’s use of him is the focus on psychological and social behavior. I’m also curious about how the development of thought in the 1930s contributed to the social/academic atmosphere of later decades. Did the work of these philosophers reflect the work within society’s thought process that eventually led to the civil rights movement and feminist activism of the 60s/70s… or perhaps did their contributions pave the way for more serious reflection and openness to include silenced voices at the table? I’m not claiming that the path to today’s academia was premeditated or that there wasn’t open hostility towards those who pushed us towards it. However, these minds were poking holes all over modernity… before World War Two, before the Holocaust. If time travel ever becomes possible, I’d love to listen to the conversations brewing. 

Reading a A History of Pastoral Care in America by Holifield

A History of Pastoral Care in America : From Salvation to Self-Realization by E. Brooks Holifield 

I found myself entranced by Holifield’s book, so much so that I read the first 4 chapters in addition to the 3 assigned. The thematic focus of how pastoral care shifted over time from self-denial and salvation to self-realization and acceptance added clarity to my understanding of history and how we can have such diverse factions within Christian theology and practice today. I want to focus on the height of colonial power and the influences towards pastoral care and justice.

Holifield traces the social and economic changes happening during the 1890s to 1910s. While he gives genuine thought into the arrogance of the educated and elite of the time, there is plenty to expand upon. Holifield lists 5 influences to perceptions of self and pastoral care: shifting to interest in biology, increasing language and perception of technology as power, post Civil War’s cult of masculinity (and reverting to efficiency, realism, individualism), economic consequences of technology, and a popular cultural mindset of physical fitness and strength (165-168). The predominant theological perspective that existence is naturally organized and patterned by God, reinforces and is reinforced by these cultural perspectives (ref. Bacon, Thomas Reid). Also within this list, I see the consequences of colonialism and patriarchy.

The shift to biological sciences was still rooted in “inductive rational science” (i.e. phrenology), producing conclusions about race, gender, and sexuality that still haunt us today. It seems as if the consequences of the Enlightenment and the Second Great Awakening happening during (or because of?) radical shifts in social structure (like factory capitalism and shift to urban centers) led to religion and psychology playing perpetual catch up. The same inductive rational thinking applied to race, gender, and sexuality that still exist today are also applied to the bible to justify fundamentalist worldviews. It continues to be very problematic towards achieving both personal and social justice.

I find the intersections of technology, economy, and the cult of masculinity and virility fascinating. I wonder how much of the imperial colonial mindset is a part of this as well. Americans colonized through territories, but it is essentially the same concept. Wrapped within it all is a hierarchy of oppositional binaries that places men, civilization, technology, success and power on one side and women, savagery, affective experience, deprecation and powerlessness on the other. While reading about the expectations of pastors to be virile and physically fit and strong, I kept thinking of Marcus Borg’s reflection on the Superman myth and Jesus. From Wikipedia, I learned Superman was created in 1933 and published in 1938. That means the creators of Superman were children during this transformative period emphasizing masculinity, virility, and power. Holifield demonstrates how over time the tension between reason and sentiment expresses itself.

Mission work and social work were also infected by these perceptions of self and the world. The mission societies allowed women to find a place to express their value that did not step on male virility. The biological justification of the patriarchal colonial hierarchy allowed acts of charity and conversion to appear as religious expressions of faith. As long as those being helped are inferior, whether by race, gender, or culture, then the hierarchy of power remains intact.

Reading this view of theological history, the stance that Tillich and Niebuhr brothers took makes much more sense. My primary awareness being the discussions within feminist theology challenging Niebuhr’s concept of the sin of pride makes sense coming from the end of colonial era and post-WWII. It also makes Saiving’s argument for women’s sin of self-deprecation even more poignant. Women, as part of the negative side of the oppositional binary can easily internalize with all that is powerless. As these thoughts develop, then we see that the experience of white educated women also contained elements of power and privilege. This reading has pieced together how important the heuristic development of theology and philosophy is. Holifield demonstrates in some ways how theological and psychological thought transformed and grew to the point that constructive postmodern perspectives became possible as part of social construction.

Early Pastoral Care - The Rule of Monastics and Sinners

Reflection on Pastoral Rule, Irish Penitentials, and Shepherd of Hermas

               

                Rules challenge contemporary ideals of individualism and independence, especially rules with punishments. An alternative vision of the texts selected for this week, sees how written parameters may prevent even worse abuses of power, one that can be referenced if harsher punishments are suggested, one that suggests repentance is possible and actually preferred by God. These texts provide a way to insist upon compassion during a time when those in authority could take away your life and your salvation. As the monastic rules evolves, the practice of humility reflects a value for compassionate thought, encourages contemplative living, and expresses itself not only through works of charity and service, but through exquisite pastoral care.

                My experience practicing and contemplating the Benedictine rule informs my reading of these early pastoral texts. In Heart of Flesh: A Feminist Spirituality for Women and Men, Joan Chittister, OSB, reveals how radical self-acceptance is not only a feminist concept but also one of contemplative life. Because of the focus on humility and obedience in Benedict’s rule, Chittister has contemplated and written extensively on this thread of Christian tradition. In Illuminated Life, Chittister narrows the contemplative life of monasticism down to four dimensions of humility:

1.        Recognize the presence of God in our lives

2.       Accept the gifts of others (wisdom, experience, direction)

3.       Let go of false expectations in daily life

4.       Receive others kindly.

                While there is much to deconstruct and challenge within our readings of Gregory the Great, Hermas, and the Irish monks, there also is the thread Chittister speaks of within them. Attached to this email is an essay from Chittister’s Heart of Flesh, reprinted in 2009 in her regular column with the National Catholic Reporter. In it, she says, “Pride is patriarchy played out in a democratic world to remind its underlings who’s really in charge. Humility brings us, instead, to the presence of God, the wisdom of others, the authenticity of the self, and the esteem of the other that make life, the world, a good and gracious space.”  Chittister convincingly argues throughout her work that such texts actually prevented further abuses of power, by codifying not only compassion from leaders, but also possibilities for repentance and absolution for sinners. This does not detract from the grave consequences of the oppositional binaries of pure/good and sin/evil, not the least of which is the deprecation of women and sexuality.

                However, as Chittister spoke of Benedict as having a feminist soul within the most misogynistic macho of worlds, so to do the writers of these missives appear to strive towards restricting the absolute authority of a few humans in power and opening (previously shut) doors for redemption. Without the years learning from the nuns at Mount St. Scholastica in Atchison, Kansas, this anti-establishment Gen-Xer may have never reconciled the difference between the teachings of humiliation from my fundamentalist upbringing with the teachings of humility as a spiritual practice, humility not as diminishing or degrading, but as connectedness, relationship, and mutuality, aspects that inform my chaplain ministry daily.

                For my practice, humility is the cornerstone of pastoral care as well as social justice. Chittister also challenges the stereotype of monastic life being isolated and removed. Humility leads to compassion and compassion leads to action. In this way, justice is as important to contemplative life as humility is. She writes, “From contemplation comes not only the consciousness of the universal connectedness of life but the courage to model it as well.” Reading her words again after seminary and years in ministry, I see how she challenges patriarchy and colonialism by encouraging practices of compassion and care. So to, weaved within the directives and prescriptions for punishments, there is a thread of compassion and care within the Pastoral Rule, Irish Penitentials, and visions of Hermas.

Works referenced:

Chittister, Joan. 1998. Heart of flesh : a feminist spirituality for women and men. [S.l.]: William B Eerdmans, 1998.

Chittister, Joan D. 2000. Illuminated life : monastic wisdom for seekers of light. [S.l.]: Orbis Books, 2000.

Chittister, Joan D. 1992. The rule of Benedict : insights for the ages. New York: Crossroad Publishing Company, 1992.

Chittister, Joan D. 1990. Wisdom distilled from the daily : living the rule of Saint Benedict today. [S.l]: Harper, 1990. 

“When love awakens in your life, in the night of your heart, it is like the dawn breaking within you. Where before there was anonymity, now there is intimacy; where before there was fear, now there is courage; where before in your life there was awkwardness, now there is a rhythm of grace and gracefulness; where before you used to be jagged, now you are elegant and in rhythm with your self. When love awakens in your life, it is like a rebirth, a new beginning.” 

― John O'Donohue, Anam Cara 
Artwork: Tanya Torres 

The Magnetic Poles of Love and Fear

   I know so many people whose very foundation of being in the world is love, people who strive every day to defy the pressure in society to be not love.  No matter how often I contemplate it, I never lose my fascination over how such a simple concept can be so complex and difficult to live out. After all I’ve been through the past few years, how do I find myself, once again, moving closer to this truth about love?  While I dreamed of escape from the misery I lived in, three years ago my faith ran on fumes.

   Three years ago I lived a life of fear. Every day I woke up, went to work, consoled others about their fears, and came home to the embrace of complete terror. My heart and soul was locked into a commitment to be a mother. All around me I saw the puzzle pieces of my life falling into place, showing me that I could have a “normal” life, settle down, be a part of community and family, find meaning in helping my local community, and be happy. Except for one problem. One huge enormous barrier. My own fear.

   Deep within, under the signs of a good life, the fear became a mantra, its own living breathing creature. I am not good enough. I don’t deserve to be happy and loved. I will screw up everything. I could not let go of the belief, irrational as it is, that being able to conceive was the only true sign that I was worthy in the eyes of God. Now to me, God doesn’t sit on a cloud and decide things. But the order within the universe, the structure amongst the chaos, it has meaning for me. And if all the infinite variables leading toward conception merged to create life within me, then somehow, I would be anointed and blessed as whole, good, and worthy. And bypassing that crucial step by adopting or fostering a child, well, then, I would be avoiding the judgment of God. I would be living a lie that I was whole and happy while the conviction that I don’t deserve any of it festered in my heart.

   The fear of not being worthy of love, I see now that it is a common human affliction, one that doesn’t really make anyone special or unique, except in our own minds. But the ghost-like tendrils of doubt and anxiety affected my decisions and choices. I lived in fear of that one moment when the world, through one person, a group, an event, would show that the blanket of love and acceptance I lived under was a lie. Bizarre, strange thoughts limited the choices in my head as my spirit and my fear battled inside me. The battle was gruesome and exhausting. The battle immobilized me from participating in my own life. The need for acceptance conflicted with my fear of being found unworthy. Not unworthy for a simple smile or a laugh, but judged and condemned in an ultimate, uncompromising way.

   The opposite of fear is not fearless. The opposite of love is not hate. Somewhere, somehow, in the chaos of infinite possibilities, exists these poles of love and fear. The lure within the magnetic field of existence, drawing us towards love or towards fear, influence every aspect of our lives.

   Letting go of the dream of conceiving life released me from one of the strongest lures towards fear I’ve ever had. I was stuck in a maze of my own making. As long as I clung to the fear I needed to conceive to be worth something, then I had to find “natural” ways to deal with the stress, anxiety, and depression… as if monkeying with the hormones of a woman is “natural.” Not only did I sacrifice my sanity to the god of artificial hormone drugs, I exposed my deepest vulnerabilities and pain at the same time. Once again, my body became a thing to control, reward and punish. No longer the subject of my own life story, my body became the object I had spent years deconstructing. Years of resisting the messages in society to reduce myself to a thing and all it took was the inability of getting pregnant for me to fall off the wagon. OK, that is a lie. Acute onset hypothyroidism, PCOS, insulin resistance, and chronic pain kinda tipped the scale. With all that happening, how in the world is one supposed to NOT be drawn into the web of fear?!

   The thing is, even with all that fear and doubt, I could never truly convince myself that I had no choices. Even as I lied in bed in a fetal position, unable to move, I wanted to move. I KNEW I could move. Living in constant fear is a path I’ve walked before.  So, I did the work, in fits and starts, two steps forward, ten steps back, 15 steps forward, 8 steps back… until the suffocating quick sand of fear had less pull.

    As I spend more time and energy focusing on love, there is a weight lifted, a gravity released, and a freedom to live fully and wholly. I find myself at times feeling giddy with freedom. It’s not as if the insecurities disappear or the fear vanishes. But the choice, the option to move towards love, becomes easier. As love becomes the driving force behind more and more of my actions, I find myself becoming increasingly bold and prophetic in its witness. It’s not courage or pride bolstering me, but a kind of “Why not? I’ve experienced another piece of hell, been through the fire” and all that.  I tried to mold myself into something I am not; I tried to be something limited and restrained, but that time is done. Now is the time to be bold and to be loud. 

   It’s an interesting place for a trained chaplain to find herself in, being bold and loud. It’s not so much that we are a quiet lot, though some are, but more that we train with intentional focus to mute our “self” in order to hear more clearly the person in front of us. Sometimes there is a misperception that means suppressing our own beliefs. However, if done well, it doesn’t have to be. There was no denying of myself or my beliefs, because the very act of being open and accepting is the heart beat of my faith. I strove to embody my theology every day by working on being open, hospitable, loving, accepting, relational, and compassionate. There was nothing insincere about it. Even in the moments I couldn’t really feel it for myself, I never doubted my love for others. How crazy is that? And somewhere within the practice of loving others, I also helped my own heart, mind, and spirit.   Honestly, that practice, the intentional loving of others, saved me. It was the light that led me through the darkest of nights.

   So, now that I am once again basking in sunlight, something within me is more than ready to voice my experience.  This morning I read a quote on http://www.henrinouwen.org/. Nouwen wrote in Here and Now, “My hope is that the description of God’s love in my life will give you the freedom and courage to discover God’s love in yours.” I’m feeling more ready to proclaim what I know, deep in my bones, to be wrong. I’m ready to try to name what I see as truth and shout it from the mountaintop. My sense of truth isn’t in any way ultimate or universal. But I think there are people out there who may find their truth complements mine and mine theirs. And I will forever be grateful for the light of others who led me through to this place. Love is all you need.

Embracing my difference and celebrating yours

In the early 1990s, when I was 16, I participated in a youth leadership training to be a part of a “Multicultural Panel”. From what I can remember, the training was developed by Friends University and included a day or two long workshop that assisted youth to contemplate, describe, and learn about their own cultural experience. Say what?! Learn about your own culture first? Yep. Our job was to be able to ad-lib a 2-3 minute talk on our culture and respond to questions by the audience about the various cultural experiences of the panel. At each presentation, the panel would represent about 5-6 types of cultural diversity including race, gender, class, and physical abilities.

My expectation of the class was to learn about everybody else’s culture, because what did I, a white girl from Kansas, have to contribute? My culture was The Andy Griffith Show mixed with Full House sitcoms. I entered with the assumption that my culture was so overexposed to be non-existent. I felt guilt and shame for being part of the privileged masses. It took quite a while and some petulant teenage angst to acknowledge that my cultural experience had complexity and value. Instead of asking the privileged white kids how they are scared of or adapt to differences, the facilitators taught us how to name our own value in a way that did not de-value someone else. Not only did I learn positive and enriching language and conversation skills, I also learned listening and interrelational skills with those different than me. I discovered solidarity in a group not because of race, gender, class, but because of a common openness and ideal. I learned more about stereotypes and assumptions within myself, groups, and society than I had in any other context. I also shed much of the shame of my own differences, whether as a representative of the majority, of geeky science girls, or of children living with poverty. Before, I saw the community I grew up in as boring and my identity in it as a freckled Irish/German American Kansas girl with glasses as being a dime a dozen. I valued any difference from my normative experience as more valid, interesting, and meaningful. I felt invisible.

What I discovered is that my peers had never had bierocks and had no idea what a Volga German was. I learned that my family history mattered and that I knew very little of it. And as I worked on reforming my family and cultural narrative, I discovered my family history had experiences of marginalization and oppression, some not so long ago. I realized that I had embraced the caricatures created by St. Patrick’s Day and Oktoberfest without truly understanding my own heritage. My family was no longer an assimilated melting pot with no cultural identity but what the media promotes. I no longer fell for the biggest lie our society and media feeds us.

In 1881, Irish caricature:

from: http://irishmemory.blogspot.com/2013/01/irish-industries-cartoon-1881.html

 

2012, t-shirt:

from: http://irishamericanheritagemonth.com/why-we-need-irish-american-heritage-month-the-2012-winner-of-the-know-nothing-award/

 

 

 

found on: http://imgur.com/gallery/FXugjVI

 

The experience with that Multicultural Panel revealed I was connected to and a part of a universal, global, human story expressed in unique communities and individuals. By embracing my own difference, I realized that my neighbor’s difference was valuable as well. I cannot claim that I embraced my value as a female so young. In fact, I kind of ignored it as long as possible. However, a first step to understanding occurred there.

This reflection bubbled up while preparing for my re-entry into academia. As I read essays that repeatedly stereotype European American and Western thought, I felt the resurgence of guilt and shame for being lumped into such a category. There is more discomfort while reading these pages than I thought there would be. Who am I supposed to identify with if I am a complex unique individual who exists with both privilege and marginalization?  Perhaps if we even have one area we feel tossed aside, not important, or directly attacked, we should be able to recognize a similar struggle in someone else. Even if our struggles do not match in content or even degree of oppression, perhaps there is still a way for us to relate to, sympathize with, and value each other.  

I have many other thoughts related to this, including pre and post modernity and caricatures of scientific thought, gender value, and how can this white woman learn about her heritage and history of women and pastoral care in the church and society.

The Shaping of the Hollowness of Me

Mother Wisdom Speaks

by Christine Lore Webber

Some of you I will hollow out.

I will make you a cave.

I will make you so deep the stars will shine in your darkness.
You will be a bowl.
You will be the cup in the rock collecting rain.

I will hollow you out with knives.

I will not do this to make you clean.
I will not do this to make you pure.
You are clean already.
You are pure already.

I will do this because the world needs the hollowness of you.

I will do this for the space that you will be.
I will do this because you must be large.
A bowl.
People will eat from you and their hunger
will not weaken them unto death.
A cup to catch the sacred rain.

 My daughter, do not cry.

Do not be afraid.
Nothing you need will be lost.
I am shaping you.
I am making you ready.

Light will glow in your hollowing.

You will be filled with light.
Your bones will shine.
The round, open center of you will be radiant.

I will call you Brilliant One.

I will call you Daughter Who Is Wide.
I will call you Transformed.

 

As I travel through the tangled experience of deep grief, I’ve been trying to find the words to describe how it feels to be healing and transforming. Even as I talk to others about the experience, the words sound so trite and hollow, the words that mean nothing when the grief is still raw, the words that at one time seemed they could not be true.

Society has long attempted to marginalize and set apart the darkness of spiritual life. Grief, despair, anger, and fear are the antithesis of a good spiritual life, experiences to overcome and conquer. There is great irony within the postmodern experience that the aspects of religion we judge as harmful are also the places within our souls we hide and deny. So often we talk of a death denying culture, but really, it is a darkness denying culture. Sterilize, deodorize, and bleach out the parts we don’t want to acknowledge. Yet, no matter how much detergent we apply, it cannot eliminate the fundamental life experience. Every time I’ve peered deep into the looking glass to understand the source of my dark emotions, the same area appears. A shadow of darkness that is a subconscious certainty I am nothing, I am useless, worthless, unloveable, and unredeemable, a certainty that I deserve all the suffering in my life. There was a time that I considered this shadow to be a remnant of learned behavior and definitions of self I blamed on misogynistic harmful religion. But the thing is, this inherent sense of suffering is not unique to one religion. It is not even unique to one philosophy or culture. Across the globe and throughout time, humanity describes these same feelings of worthlessness and a sense that suffering is inevitable, deserved, even destined. I no longer am certain these are learned ideas.

Within the realm of progressive postmodern thought, so many want to skip ahead to the joy and peace and rainbows. In fact, progressive social activists will ridicule those who embrace theologies that try to explain suffering, claiming that to explain the origin of suffering, intentionally or not, causes harm. For us, suffering is something to deal with, cope with, handle and manage. The resulting emotions of grief, despair, anger and fear are byproducts of an unhealthy spirit, of not “handling” the suffering well.

This just doesn’t cut it for me anymore. It does not make sense to cut off and deny a good portion, even half, of my own human experience as pointless. What are the options, though? On one hand, I cannot really say anymore that suffering is pointless or meaningless. However, when I try to say there is a reason for my suffering and attempt to explain it, I fall flat on my face.

Ultimately, there is a mystery in the spaces of meaning making. There is a limitation to our ability to communicate and reason through the human experience. I want to pull it apart, observe and describe this space, but it so often eludes me. The attempts by others often bring me comfort, however. For over a decade the poem shared above has aided me and reflects how I desire to see the space of suffering and meaning.

 

Why back to school? grad school reflection

Since the beginning of my discernment, my call to ministry has been to ease spiritual suffering. I continue to passionately believe that the environmental, social and physical suffering in this world will never heal if we do not first address the spiritual suffering. If our sense of self and sense of community were fully realized, how could we live in voluntary ignorance and destructive apathy? After 6 years of answering that call in chaplaincy, I wish to grow as a caregiver and scholar. Participating in the cultivation of theologically and pastorally trained leaders is a natural progression of my call to ease spiritual suffering in the world. To do this, I am seeking a PhD program to study and expand my base of knowledge in pastoral theology, cultural anthropology, psychosocial theories and pedagogy. As a pastoral theologian and scholar, I want to expand the conversation in postmodern theology and to make it applicable to today’s society, especially within the realm of fertility and infertility.  The school I'm applying to has a progressive postmodern voice that is important to me and to accomplishing these goals.

The path to finding a spiritual calling can be an interesting one, but looking back, each step along my path led me with a clear and passionate purpose towards the work I now do. Even before I could name it, discovering meaning and purpose defined my life’s path. The spiritual abuse I received as a child in a fundamentalist Wisconsin Synod Lutheran church steered me towards science and as far away from religion as possible. However, by studying and working with science, I discovered that religion is not the only place cognitive dissonance lives. During that journey, I found my best conversation partners were with progressive Christians.

My healing did not solely happen by leaving the place of abuse or by discovering a replacement faith system. Through secular counseling, I learned how to pull apart my emotions and thoughts, how to distinguish self from group, and how to empower myself and others to live fully. Through earnest and honest seeking, I discovered the joy and peace that the spiritual experience brings. Spiritual direction, monastic retreats, and many other experiences also helped heal my connection with God.

Then, after all that, seminary helped me dismantle and deconstruct hidden precepts and assumptions not only about religion, but about life. I began seminary with a passion for biblical interpretation, seeking to dismantle not only the misconceptions I was raised with, but also to address the assumed authority and power scripture has. My past may have taught me that scripture was the key, but seminary taught me that history of church, theology and even pedagogy are just as key.

Seminary is  a place of crucial integration. By increasing contextual awareness and understanding in many subjects, a person with a call to help others turns into a beautiful  kaleidoscope of skills.  However, my time in CPE and working among professional ministers and chaplains revealed a genuine lack of theological integration with the pastoral care they give. How people view God affects how they view themselves and the world.  As pastoral care providers, I feel we are called out not only to have a clear understanding of our own theology, but also how it relates to traditionally held beliefs. Often, when people have holes or inconsistencies within their theology, it can be due to lack of language to describe their feelings and thoughts about it.  As we listen to people, we should be able to reflect back confusing thoughts with different and hopefully clear language. In order to do that, however, we must do the work of theological construction and integration long before the conversation happens.

Many who seek such understanding attend seminary and labor through CPE, hoping and anticipating some of the theological and spiritual fog will clear. I help with Mid-Year Consultations for CPE residents and each year I’m assigned to a student from an evangelical background, often with a theology that creates separatism and exclusivism. The struggle and pain this brings them is hard for me to observe. I have no desire to convert the world to my way of thinking, but I do desire to ease these spiritual leaders’ suffering. I desire to aid them in exploring the struggle that exists for a theology that may give comfort in some ways, but cause conflict in other ways.  I want to help them discover not only how to fill their own theological gaps, but also how to minister to the diverse world compassionately and competently.

Professional chaplain gatherings also revealed to me several things.   I observed that many chaplains who teach and lead come from faith traditions rife not only with visible cognitive dissonance, but also with moral conflict. In addition, I noticed that chaplain leaders from progressive faith backgrounds often redirected or avoided uncomfortable theological subjects by encouraging religious diversity and focusing on psychosocial or ethical theories.  The field would benefit from more leaders who bring integrative and constructive postmodern theology not just to the discussion table, but to the practitioners in the field. I desire to expand my knowledge of theology and how the work in pastoral care interacts with it. My passion is for the postmodern voice, one that is steeped in understanding modern logic, but acknowledges that to authentically reflect reality, the voice of experience and context must always be heard.

Currently, my ministry entails working in hospice as a chaplain and bereavement educator. The time spent as a child ministering with my grandmother in nursing homes and to elderly church members imprinted not only an awareness of, but also a comfort around physical limitations and end of life.  So, here I am, walking the path with many, a path we all will or have taken: facing our own limitations and mortality. My personal limitations currently involve fertility, conception and pregnancy. When I faced accepting infertility, I had to search deep inside myself for the balm to my spiritual suffering. I had no ready way to process it.

My Master’s thesis combines feminist and process theology, so it should be no surprise that the language of co-creator is comfortable for me. It makes sense for a woman with a biology degree and healthy suspicion of power structures to want to find a theology that not only supports but empowers the individual. Accepting that I am unlikely to conceive life felt like I was sacrificing the very foundation of my faith system as a co-creator, not because I cannot envision other ways of creative being, but because the sacred unique creation of life is no longer within my grasp.

When I studied biology and biochemistry, they fed my desire to understand and revel in the mysteries of life as a creative and distinctive process. It laid the foundation for my understanding of who we are and how we relate to God and the world. What happens when someone with such a foundation finds out that she is not part of the cycle of life?  A piece of writing or the influence I have on people's hearts or minds is not the same as creating life. We must acknowledge the unique and complex process of creating life and the sacredness of such creativity. We cannot deny that all life is sacred and that the ability to create it is sacred as well. Therefore, the loss of such a sacred identity means infertility is not just a loss of function, but a complex web of experience. Infertility is not just a disorder or a dysfunction, it is not just a loss of anticipated future, and it is not just a loss of identity. It is all of the above combined with constant ethical and moral dilemmas, decision making that determines the rest of one’s life, and continual exposure to familial as well as societal pressure and judgment.

 I want to develop a way for pastors and chaplains to approach this rapidly growing area of spiritual discernment among individuals and families. I want to make the language of fertility issues normalized and eliminate the negative repercussions of shame and guilt. Above all, I wish to find an integrative postmodern theology that not only provides comfort to the infertile, but also provides a spiritual and ethical compass during a difficult time. I have my own thoughts and experiences, of course, but I want to dig deeper as a scholar and as a chaplain to add this particular context to the training of our pastoral leaders.

My call to ease spiritual suffering continues to evolve and I greatly desire to be a postmodern theological and pastoral voice in our world. I wish to not only contribute to scholarship, but also to the transformation and growth of pastoral care providers. The PhD program at this school combines the crucial elements of respected scholarship with the spirit-filled mission to cultivate competent and compassionate pastoral leaders. I request approval for admission to the PhD program for Pastoral Theology and Pastoral Care.