Discernment Study Group

Between Holy Week, work, and committees I serve on, it’s been about two weeks since I’ve been home at dinner time and the need for some downtime is growing. Last night, I had a meeting of the Discernment Committee at church. This is a small group of people from the church and committee that is meeting with me every couple weeks, following an outline from the diocese to help me discern what God is calling me to and to share their thoughts with the bishop about whether or not they think it I should seek ordination as a priest in the Episcopal church.

I often talk about the group as being part faith study group and part job interview. I like the faith study aspect because it makes the process about all of us, and not just about me. What can we all learn about our spiritual journeys, calls to ministry, prayer life, et cetera?

Last night’s topic was gifts. When I read the title, I was excited. I’ve been writing a bit about validation recently, and I’ve been thinking about how recognizing each other’s gifts is an important first step in validating others. What are the gifts of the members of the discernment committee? There are different gifts different people have. Hospitality. Perseverance. Compassion. Knowledge. It is a great group.

Yet when I read the questions in the discernment manual, they felt much more like interview questions.

“What specialized training has been done for specific ministries? How does he or she inspire others?”

In many ways, I feel inadequate to become a priest. To many of the questions, my initial response is, “Not enough”. So between fatigue and feelings of inadequacy, I headed off to the discernment committee praying that if God really wants me to be a priest, that God would sustain me, that God would give me words, that God would be present and touch each of us at the meeting.

We started off by talking about “servant leadership”, about different ideas of leadership. We talked about the washing of feet, about leaderful organizations, and about unconferences. We talked about different types of priests, dealing with projections placed on priests, on expectations made of priests, and of balancing work and life, especially for bivocational priests.

When I had met with my priest and bishop, my priest made a comment that is an important part of my journey. She observed that with all the challenges facing the church in the twenty-first century, we don’t know what the job of priest will be like in five years. That is what I am preparing for. Am I preparing for being a leader in a leaderful organization? How do leaderful groups work in a hierarchical Episcopal organization? How is my journey part of a larger journey of the church in the twenty-first century?

As I left, I felt particularly blessed. I felt blessed to have friends, members of the church and the community, gather together to talk about these ideas. I felt blessed that God was there, giving me strength to make it through yet another evening meeting. I felt blessed to be part of what our Presiding Bishop calls the Episcopal branch of the Jesus movement.

Instead of being a job interview where I struggled when asked about my inadequacies, it was more like a faith study group, a discernment study group, where we all talked about the gifts God is giving us which is far greater than any of our inadequacies, about the gifts God is giving us to be a leaderful church in the twenty first century.

Thanks be to God and the people God has brought together around me for this journey and our discussion at the discernment study group.

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Rest, and Upcoming Events

I was hoping that the week after Easter would provide opportunities to rest and catch up a little. There are so many blog ideas in the back of my mind that I need to write, and so many upcoming events. Yet I’ve ended up with four meetings after work this week, some events I couldn’t make because of double booking, and Saturday I’m heading off to another event, while missing a second. As an aside, the weekend before Holy Week, I missed several events because of double or triple booking as well as because of my kidney stone.

On Saturday, I should be at a poetry group in the morning. Right now, I should be working on a poem for that group. Unfortunately, I’ll miss it, as well as their next big event. Instead, I’ll be going to Podcamp Western Mass. This is one of the longest continuously running Podcamps, and I think I’ve been to everyone, but I can’t remember for sure.

Podcamps are ‘unconferences’ originally around podcasting. These days, they tend to focus on all aspects of social media. As an unconference, there is no clear set agenda. People bring their ideas, their topics, then on a large grid on a wall they select rooms and times to get together to talk about the topics they are interested in. It is a great way for people to become more acquainted with social media, and there are often topics like Twitter 101. There are also topics that can get fairly esoteric. I try to go partly to learn new things and partly to give back to the community. I never know who will be there or what topics will catch my attention. Currently, I’m thinking about communities online as they related to learning, creativity, spirituality, and politics. I’d love to hear some of your thoughts about topics you’d be interested in at an unconference.

Then, in two weeks are two different conferences on my radar. One is the#WhatIMake conference. I’ve written a little bit about this earlier, and if I had more time I would dig out some quotes from Elizabeth Gilbert’s interview with Brene Brown which I mentioned yesterday, which are one of the best explanations about why #WhatIMake is such an important conference to go to.

Unfortunately there is another conference which is also very important to me taking place at the same time. Misisonal Voices is taking place at Virginia Theological Seminary.

A conversation about innovative ministries and missional communities in The Episcopal Church.

In my mind, this conference has a lot in common with Podcamp and WhatIMake, which very direct implications for the next few twists and turns on my spiritual journey. I am hoping it will be about creativity and innovation; about being a maker. I am hoping that I will arrive, not knowing what I will get out of it, and leaving surprised with new thoughts and ideas.

I’m thinking of listening to Podcasts on creativity on my drive down. I’ve been listening to Elizabeth Gilbert’s podcasts during my commute this week. I’m considering staying at a hostel on my journey back, for several reasons.

But now, I’ve already spent more time than I really have writing this blog post and I need to get on with the rest of the day.

Validation, Rejection, Failure, and Creativity

Last week, I wrote a blog post about validation. Around the same time, my daughter, Miranda, shared a link to an article in Medium, How a TV Sitcom Triggered the Downfall of Western Civilization.

In fact, any time Ross would say anything about his interests, his studies, his ideas, whenever he was mid-sentence, one of his “friends” was sure to groan and say how boring Ross was, how stupid it is to be smart, and that nobody cares

The year 2004 was when we completely gave up and embraced stupidity as a value….

The rejection of Ross marked the moment when much of America groaned, mid-sentence, at the voice of reason…

Instead of validating Ross and validating the role of reason in society, America rejected it.

A few days later, Eric Cooter, a priest and flight instructor; what a great bi-vocational calling that is , wrote a blog post, Encouragement for Experimenters, Innovators, and Risk Takers..

Experimentation is costly and it may never show measurable results. Risk-taking and experimentation requires fortitude in the midst of setbacks, doubters, and detractors. Fear can keep us from trying or sustaining something different, from dreaming new dreams, and from stepping out and taking a risk. If trepidation wins, we will never know what possibilities might have been. Innovators, experimenters, and risk-takers require encouragement and support.

Today, one of the leading candidates is well known for rejecting those who experiment, who take risks and experience setbacks. He calls them “losers”. It is part of the same rejection of reason.

In contrast to this, I’ve been listening to a podcast with Elizabeth Gilbert and Brene Brown talking about writing and failure: Magic Lessons Ep. #12: Brene Brown on "Big Strong Magic".

So please, don’t groan mid-sentence as I ask, “How have you failed recently? How have you celebrated failure recently? What is so important to you that risking failure doesn’t matter?”

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The Power Outage

It had been a long and exhausting Holy Week, but a truly blessed one as well. Throughout Lent, I spent a lot of time studying scripture and religious texts and did not attend as much to my other writings. As I headed home last night, I got a call from a friend, asking if I wanted to get together for a drink. As we talked at a local shop, he asked about my writing and I admitted that I had not been doing as much poetry or essay writing recently as I would have liked.

On my way home, I listened to some of the New York Public Library’s podcast of Ann Patchett & Elizabeth Gilbert on Writing. At home, I chatted briefly with my wife and daughter and decided to head to bed early. I was still overtired from Holy Week.

For the past month or two, I’ve been getting up at 5 AM to study, and then do my morning social media connections and daily ablutions starting at 6. I would get on the road a little bit after seven for a leisurely drive to work, stopping here and there along the way to play a little Ingress, and still being able to get into the office early. To get sufficient sleep, I try to go to bed by 9 PM. In my effort to get a little extra sleep, I must have gone to bed between 8:30 and 8:45.

At some point in the night, I woke up, aware that my wife Kim was in bed next to me. I glanced over at the clock radio and it was blank. Kim was reading by flashlight and explained to me that the power had gone out. We haven’t had a lot of power outages this winter, but it was windy, so this didn’t come as a great surprise. I rolled over and went back to sleep, figuring that the power would be back on by the time I got up in the morning.

At another point, I was awoken by the cat who wanted to go out into the living room but was hampered by a closed door. I let him out and grabbed my cellphone. It was around midnight. The wind was still blowing hard and the lights were still out.

It was a night filled with strange dreams. In one dream, we were back at the yacht club we had been a member of years ago when I worked on Wall Street. In another, Kim had gotten a great new job. Other details of each of these dreams have vanished. The third dream was particularly disturbing. We were camping somewhere, or something like that. There was an explosion and we went to a neighboring campsite to make sure everyone was okay and see what was going on. At one point, I went up near the crater from the bomb. I looked up towards the hills and saw a man in a brown pickup truck with Ohio license plates driving past us. He tossed something from the window, and I realized it was another bomb. I turned, ran, and dove for cover as the bomb exploded, filling my back with shrapnel.

A little before six in the morning, the dog started barking. There were trucks outside, which I assumed were there to restore the power. With no power, I couldn’t do many of my morning rituals, either online, or in terms of breakfast and shower. So, I rested in bed, hoping the power would be back in any moment. Finally, and 6:40, I got up, to a sponge bath and headed off to work.

I had driven a short ways down the road when I remembered that I had forgotten to grab a book for a study group this evening. I turned around and went back home to find that the power was back on. So, I took a moment to make myself some breakfast and take a proper shower.
As I drove back to work, I thought of those for whom the inconveniences of the day make the power outage seem insignificant. I thought of refugees who stayed in their home towns far longer than it was safe to do so. My mind wandered to the book Dhalgren and the family that lived in aware in the autumnal city.

I started writing this at the beginning of the day, but only now, at the end of the day, do I get a chance to finish it. I’d like to write more on this, but it is time for bed and I have plenty of other topics to explore in later blog posts.

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The Great Easter Vigil

Saturday evening before Easter Sunday our church celebrates an Easter Vigil. The Vigil starts a fire from which we light the Paschal Candle. I went to church early on Holy Saturday, to attend choir rehearsals and then a funeral. I ended up forgetting to bring our fire pit which the fire would be lit in.

After the funeral, I spoke with the priest and apologized for forgetting it. I asked when I should bring it. She responded, “At least an hour before the service”. Wanting to not add to the any anxiety or complicate the final preparations for the service I showed up an hour and a half before the service.

Inside the sanctuary, it was still dark. The altar was unadorned, but odor of Easter lilies wafted in from the wings. I knew it was going to be a long yet beautiful service. Spending an hour and a half in quiet preparation seemed like a long time. Yet it also felt very alluring.

I sat briefly and thought of those times, early in a romance, of waiting for my beloved. While there was a longing for the physical presence there was also something incredibly beautiful about the waiting. Yet I thought it would be good if I got outside and walked a little bit before settling into the long evening, especially considering my health.

Down the street there is a library and a playground. There are also portals in the augmented reality game, Ingress that I play. I headed over to the playground and saw a family taking a picture. There was no one else around so the man was taking the pictures. I got out of the car and offered to take pictures so he could be in them. The lighting wasn’t the best, but I took some pictures and they were appreciative.

Afterwards, I headed up to the little park on the other side of the church. I saw that there was a new Ingress player in the area and I sent him a message. He stopped by and I gave him some Ingress supplies and talked briefly. Then I headed back to the church.

As I sat quietly, the priest along with others who would be helping in the service entered the sanctuary. They discussed the logistics for the service. It would not be the typical service. There would be the fire, candles, lots of readings and hymns, a renewal of baptismal vows, and then the great noise and the altar being transformed. For me, the feeling went from waiting quietly for the arrival of the beloved to a time of preparation.

The service, when it started, went along well. I read The Valley of Dry Bones, and I thought about how, in many ways, my spiritual life had been a valley of dry bones. There had been times of going to church out of habit, or not even going at all. Times when it felt like I was going to church because it was something I was supposed to, like going to the office each day.

Yet after the guided meditation at a poetry conference close to a year ago, my relationship with the God of Love bloomed. Things started connecting, like bone to its bone. Sinews of a new, deeper faith began appearing.

After the readings came the renewal of baptismal vows.
“Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ? Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?”

This great love from God that we had been waiting for, preparing for, will you show that love to your neighbors? That is what I’ve felt called to over this past year. That is what I’ve been spending time trying to discern how God wants me to share it in new deeper ways.

“I will, with God's help.”

The priest and acolytes then proceeded into the congregation splashing us all with holy water. She seemed particularly joyful about giving me a good dousing with the holy water and it was part of our shared Easter joy.

Since I had been in the church as the priest prepared for the service, I was called into action, to help remove the cover over the altar, revealing it in its glory, and to help move the Easter lilies into place around the baptismal font and the altar.

It was a wonderful service, full of God’s love, peace, and joy which I hope to carry with me as I return to the struggles of daily life.

In my neighboring town, adults fought over Easter eggs. In Pakistan terrorists targeted Christians celebrating Easter. God’s love, a love which conquers death, is sorely needed. Will I be able to proclaim it, to show it to my neighbors?

“I will, with God's help.”

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