Ember Letters

Quarterly letters about my spiritual journey

An Ember Letter During Finals

It has been three months since I last wrote and Ember letter. During this time, I’ve written a vast amount for school, but very little of it, a mere five blog posts, have been public long-form writing. I am just wrapping up my fourth semester of seminary and have one paper and a few online assignments to go. It has been a challenging time with the deaths of various friends, the physical and spiritual struggles of others, and ongoing financial concerns.

Through all of this, various things have sustained me. The words of Julian of Norwich stay with me, “All shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.” They may not always be easy, they may not always be fun, but all is well.

I experience this most profoundly in the circle of friends that surround me, my family, friends at various churches I attend, and especially my seminary classmates. It seems like I am surrounded by so many people who are struggling and at the same time know that all will be well.

Another bright spot over the past semester has been a course I’ve been taking, “Postmodern Christian Education”. It has given me much to think about as I extend the idea of praying without ceasing to also include learning and teaching without ceasing. It has given me frameworks and tools to more fully live into my role as a learner and a teacher.

Theology 1 has been a much greater challenge, perhaps because I’m drawn to asystematic thinking and experiences of the divine that are not limited to Western rationality.

It still feels as if my path is towards the bi-vocational Episcopal priesthood, perhaps in part because I am currently a bi-vocational seminarian at an Episcopal divinity school. Perhaps some of it is because, in my safe New England thinking, the idea of taking a leap of faith to other traditions, locations, and vocations is so challenging. Yet the words of Jesus to the rich man in Luke haunt me. By global standards, I am rich, even though it doesn’t feel that way in the midst of financial struggles.

Recently, friends have suggested I look into a residential Orthodox seminary in Pennsylvania. The logistics of pulling up stakes and moving to a seminary in Pennsylvania has always seemed nearly impossible, perhaps in a manner that selling everything one has and giving to the poor seemed impossible to the rich man in Luke. With my youngest off in college and the flux in the lives of my wife and me, it somehow seems a little less impossible.

Nonetheless, there is something powerful and liberating about being in a place of unknowing and uncertainty. Yet time marches on. In January, I’ll be taking “Prep for Field Ed” and I need to think about where my field ed placement should be. Right now, my dream field education placement would be at a large multi-cultural Episcopal parish that has strong liturgical traditions but still makes space for experimentation and life beyond the four walls of the sanctuary. It would be a parish with a strong practice of caring for the oppressed and marginalized in society. It would be a parish that is involved in ecumenical and inter-faith activities. I’ve also thought about the possibility of doing two years of field education, one year in the Episcopal Church and one year in the Orthodox Church.

Ember Letter: Practicing the Intersectional Presence of God

For those not acquainted with ember letters, they are a quarterly letter, normally written by postulants to their bishops. I have found writing them a valuable spiritual practice, so I do so, even though they are not formally part of my journey right now.

A lot has happened since I wrote my last ember letter back in May. In June, I attended the Summer Intensive at Church Divinity School of the Pacific. It was a most wonderful experience in many ways. I had an overwhelming sense of ‘this is absolutely where I am meant to be right now’. I met people face to face that I had been in classes with for the previous two semesters and I met new people who have been become key members of community and support group.

I had started at CDSP in the Certificate for Theological Studies program. I was trying to get a sense of if I, a college dropout from years ago, could manage graduate level studies while working full time, supporting a family, and being involved in my community. I also thought it might help my credentials if I had a certificate from seminary, no matter where my studies led me. However, it became very clear to me that this is where I was meant to be and so I changed from the online CTS program to the Low Residency Masters of Divinity program. I now identify as a Low Residency Bi-Vocational Seminary Student.

I took Biblical Hebrew, which was a great challenge. I hope to keep up regular reading of the Hebrew scriptures along with other sources in Hebrew. I have been doing it sporadically since I finished my translation for that class, but not as much as I would like.

I also took Foundations for Ministry, which was a struggle for me as I try to get a better sense of the ministry God is calling me to, and where God is calling me to that ministry. When I had first written to the local Episcopal bishop about the current phase of my journey, I focused on the unexpected nature of it. I continue to live into unexpected uncertainty and I pray for those around me that they might be able to embrace more unexpected uncertainty.

This semester, I am taking Theology 1. It is helping me clarify in my own thoughts and language who and where I am. More later on this, I’m sure. I am also taking Postmodern Christian Education. I don’t want to jinx things by saying how excited I am about this class, but I’m really excited about it. Two of the texts we will be using that I am most interested in are Mai-Anh Le Tran Reset the Heart: Unlearning Violence, Relearning Hope and Anne Streaty Wimberly Soul Stories: African American Christian Education. It is great to be taking the course online because I am so interested in digital pedagogy.

I continue my worship at Grace and St. Peter’s in Hamden on Sunday mornings, Church of the Holy Trinity in Middletown Thursday’s at lunch time when I don’t have conflicts at work, the Emmaus dinners with the Andover Newton folks at Yale Divinity School on Thursday evenings, and Vespers at Three Saints Orthodox Church in Ansonia. I went on a pilgrimage to St. Tikhon’s Monastery over Memorial Day weekend, and I continue to serve with Dinner for a Dollar, Arden House, and with the altar guild at Grace and St. Peter’s.

Yet all of this is preamble to some of my current thinking. In the past, I’ve mentioned my interest in Brother Lawrence and practicing the presence of God. During Bible study at the Emmaus dinner the other week, we discussed a reading from Jeremiah which led to talking about social justice. A phrase came to my mind, “Intersectional prayer”. What would it be like if our praying without ceasing were more intersectional. When we pray for a person who is suffering, do we pray for others who are suffering, perhaps as a result of similar but different forms of oppression? Do we pray about the systemic causes of this oppression and confess our own role and culpability in this systemic oppression? If we take this further, how do we live in constant awareness of God’s awesomeness and the awesomeness of God’s creation while at the same time holding up the concerns, both individual and corporate about suffering?

How do we practice an intersectional presence of God?

This also brings me back to the issue of embracing uncertainty. How do we make ourselves as open as possible to uncertainty? How do we embrace kenosis and theosis in daily life?

Please, keep me in your prayers as I explore this over the coming months.

Ember Letter, Pentecost 2018: Who Would Jesus Love?

Another semester has come and gone, as has Pentecost, at least in the western church, and so it is time to sit down and reflect on my journey over the past few months. I write this as a spiritual discipline modeled after Ember Letters, but I write it for myself, and anyone who is walking along side me in my journey right now.

Saturday morning, I woke up from a dream where we were singing

If you believe and I believe
And we together pray,
The Holy Spirit must come down
And set God’s people free

What if we really dared to believe that? What do we believe and are willing to pray together about, for our churches, for our denominations, for our communities, and for our countries?

…so that whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you.

Who will dare to believe with me? Who will get together and pray with me?

The previous week had been rough; a tornado in the neighboring towns, another school shooting. On Friday night, we gathered at church for our weekly dinner ministry. We spread the word about it for anyone who was still without power and need a meal or companionship. During dinner we talked about doing a breakfast in the morning. I suggested we start off with a royal wedding watch party. I had heard that Presiding Bishop Curry would be preaching and I was pretty sure that it would be a sermon not to miss.

Saturday morning, about half a dozen of us gathering in the church undercroft. We watched the wedding, and then had breakfast together.

imagine a world where love is the way…
When love is the way, then no child will go to bed hungry in this world ever again. When love is the way, we will let justice roll down like a mighty stream and righteousness like an ever-flowing brook. When love is the way, poverty will become history. When love is the way, the earth will be a sanctuary. When love is the way, we will lay down our swords and shields down, down by the riverside to study war no more.

Who will dare to believe with me that God could use us to bring about a world where love is the way? Two weeks earlier, I had the opportunity to preach at church. My text was John 15. It was also the text that I wrote my final paper for New Testament in. In the farewell discourse, Jesus tells us,

This is my command: Love each other.

Who will dare to believe with me?

I love intellectual discourse. Comparing and contrasting a post-colonial interpretation of John 15 with Calvin’s interpretation is enjoyable to me. Yet at the same time, I love talking about God’s message to us with my friends on the street of Middletown. I spoke with my spiritual director about the challenge of taking a scholarly paper and making the ideas accessible to these friends and she observed, “You do this, because you love them”.

It is the sort of comment one might let pass with nod. But for me, it struck home. It brought back my memories of that conference on Poetry and Workshop a few years ago where God and I had a serious discussion about my life, and why I never got around to going to seminary and becoming a preacher. God reminded me, not only of that long dormant calling, but also that my whole life, my poetry, my politics, my work, my family, was all about showing God’s love.

The morning after meeting with my spiritual director, I drove to work. I let a woman cross a line of traffic in front of me and looked at her. I thought, for a moment, of that old saying, “What would Jesus do?” Perhaps, we’ve been asking the wrong question. Perhaps the question we need to be asking is, “Who would Jesus love?” Of course the answer to that is pretty clear; everyone. Can we see each person the way Jesus sees them?

Who will dare to believe with me?

I participated in services each day of Holy Week at the Episcopal Church I attend most Sundays and led one of the Holy Week services. After Easter Sunday, I then went to Holy Week at the Orthodox Church I attend most Saturdays. It was liturgical whiplash; Holy Week, Easter, back to Holy Week, and then another Easter.

The Orthodox Holy Week services were very powerful and I talked about them at a liturgical planning meeting at the Episcopal Church. A friend asked, “We’re not going to lose you to the Orthodox Church, are we?”

I don’t know. I feel very strong ties to both churches. A few weeks later, my youngest daughter was received as a catechumen in the Orthodox Church. A retired Episcopal priest who now attends that church said to me, “You know, the same thing happened with me. My daughter became Orthodox before I did.”

Do I dare to believe, if I asked the Father to lead both the Episcopal Church and the Orthodox Church to ordain me? Could I be bi-vocational and bi-denominational? Could I help bring love and reconciliation to two different branches of the Jesus Movement?

Yet at the same time, between the Church History course I took this past semester and my interactions with various ecclesiastical employees, my doubts about the Anglican Communion continue to grow, despite how much I love the Episcopal liturgy and the Presiding Bishop.

This weekend, I will make a pilgrimage to St Tikhon’s Orthodox monastery and seminary. Two weeks later, I will head out to Church Divinity School of the Pacific. Between the past few months and these coming trips, the metaphor of Camino remains crucial and an old hymn comes to mind.

I know not where the road will lead
I follow day by day,
or where it ends: I only know
I walk the King's highway.

Pray for me on my journey as I continue to pray for those around me.

Coming out as a Queer Multivocational Unordained Priest

Dear sisters and brothers in Christ whose journeys are somehow intertwined with mine, the peace of Jesus, the Christ be with you. It is a tradition within parts of the church for postulants to write to their bishops four times a year about their journeys. I am not a postulant and I have no bishops, but still I feel compelled to write.

I am starting my second term as a seminarian at Church Divinity School of the Pacific. I am currently in the online Certificate of Theological Studies program, but God willing will change programs to the lo-res M.Div program in the near future. This term I am taking Introduction to New Testament and Church History II. I am particularly interested in both of these classes in thinking about how our understanding of God and God’s Church changes over time. I have also recently joined a formation group and I’m looking forward growing with members of this group.

The resolutions of the 233rd Convention of the Episcopal Church in Connecticut provided an interesting glimpse into some of these changes in our day as it looks at what it means to be a member of the clergy in good standing, including, “a future with even more novel forms of ordained ministry“.

I have been thinking a lot about what it means to be a priest. In my previous ember letter, I wrote about reading Carter Heyward’s book, “A Priest Forever” and finding that her description of an Ontological Priest fits nicely with parts of my journey.

Recently, I participated in the Trinity Institute and this has further shaped some of my thinking. Jose Antonio Vargas talked about what it is like to be undocumented in America. He is here without the necessary papers because of what seems to be broken policies and bureaucracy. It limits what he can do. In light of Heyward’s book and my own journey, I feel like I, and others I’ve met during my journey are Unordained Priests, in a manner not unlike how Vargas is an undocumented America.

Another speaker at Trinity Institute was the Rev. Elizabeth Edman who spoke about queer theory and the idea of disrupting binaries. My eldest daughter is just completing her Master’s Degree and about to start her PhD in gender studies in Japan. We have many interesting discussions about queer theory and while I won’t claim to be any expert, I’m very interested in disrupting binaries. In particularly, there is the queer/heterosexual binary, and there is the clergy/laity binary.

The Episcopal Church in Connecticut uses “Guidelines for Mutuality” that seem to me to encourage this disrupting of binaries by urging participants to avoid either/or thinking. Yet I wonder, how much are we using either/or thinking and maintaining binaries as we think about the roles of priests and laity and who can become a priest? Can we try on (to use another one of the guidelines) new ways of thinking about the priesthood. Here, I return to some of my studies where the early church and the reformation church explored ideas of what the priesthood is.

In part of our journeys we may talk about bi-vocational priests. Yet I wonder if that is at best a half-hearted attempt to disrupt the clergy/laity binary. I have thought of myself as a bi-vocational seminarian as I work full time and attend seminary online. Yet perhaps, we need to recognize that many of us are called to many things in our lives. As the Great Litany says,

That it may please thee to inspire us, in our several callings, to do the work which thou givest us to do with singleness of heart as thy servants, and for the common good

Perhaps we should be talking about being multi-vocational.

So, perhaps this ember letter is coming out as a queer multivocational unordained priest.

I wrote the beginning of this while I was on a silent retreat at Holy Cross Monastery in New York. At matins the light shining on one section of the choir caught my attention, perhaps similarly to how the unconsumed burning bush caught Moses attention. I sought the source and found that it was from sunlight streaming in through a stained glass window over a statute of Mary.

While the image in the stained glass window was most likely the annunciation, it seemed for me at that moment that the image was of the visitation of Mary to Elizabeth when they were both pregnant. I stopped to ponder this.

In what ways am I Mary? What will I be giving birth to? In what way am I Elizabeth and who are the Marys in my life? How do we honor this in those around us? Perhaps some of us should hold a baby shower for Mary during the feast of the visitation, where everyone is invited to bring gifts symbolizing the ministries they are struggling to give birth to or nurture.

With this in mind, Bishop Glasspool’s article in The Episcopal New York entitled “Call the Midwife!” caught my attention. It echoed some of the same things I was thinking about.

Another part of my journey includes the Eastern Orthodox Church. I have been trying to make it to vespers Saturday evenings at local Orthodox Church. My youngest daughter has developed a strong interest in the Orthodox Church and is hoping to be baptized into it this year. Likewise, I continue to regularly worship with seminarians from Andover Newton at Yale stirring my childhood Congregational tendencies.

So where does all of this leave me? Perhaps all the more like Mary; a little confused, frightened, unsure, and yet willing and excited about what the miraculous annunciation meant. As who I am changes with whatever is growing inside of me, planted by God, I am seeking out the midwives and relatives. Will you be an Elizabeth, Ann, or Brigid to me? How can I be an Elizabeth, Ann, or Brigid to you?

Ember Letter December 2017: Crossing Boundaries

There is a tradition in parts of Christendom for those on certain spiritual journeys to write quarterly letters about their journey. I’ve taken this up as one of my disciplines with my own unique imprint on it. This includes posting them on my blog and emailing them to various people that have been involved, in one way or another, in my journey recently.

Much of what follows may sound dry, scholarly, or analytical while at the same time only briefly exploring the ideas. I enjoy the analytical, and there just isn’t enough space to go into all that I’ve been thinking about. I know that at times of stress, I can retreat into intellectualizing things, but I don’t think that is a significant factor here. Instead, it is more about how exciting my studies have been.

To put things into the proper context and framework, however, we must remember our starting point. We are called to serve a Loving Creator. We are called to share our Creator’s love with those around us. I continue to do this with ministries through church to the lonely, hungry and elderly. I continue to do this with my friends on the street near where I work.

I also continue to experience God’s love through each of you, as you share excitement about my studies or concern over the health of members of my family. Know that I have felt comforted and loved, through your words and actions. Thank you. Your words and deeds have meant more to me than you realize.

Besides the sheer joy of intellectual pursuits, my studies this fall have had a flavor of courtship in it. Remember those early days of a great earthly relationship, when you spent hours on the phone talking, when you drove great distances to see your new lover, when you constantly wondered what new and exciting things you would discover about your new lover?

This is part of how I am experiencing my studies. God is our lover, whom we can never know well enough, either intellectually or affectively. Our heavenly lover is greater than we can ever understand and that there are always exciting things to discover about God, no matter how learned we might be.

As I mentioned in my last letter, this semester I took Introduction to the Old Testament and News and Religion. They were both very good courses which gave me a lot to think about around ideas of context and identity.

Perhaps the most obvious idea to explore was the historical context of the Hebrew Scriptures. It’s a pretty common thing to think about and we used David M. Carr’s book, An Introduction to the Old Testament as a key text book.

Yet Professor Carr appears to be, like myself and many who have shaped my understanding of scripture so far, a cisgender heterosexual white male of European descent. One of my hopes for the course was a chance to gain new perspectives. The course provided some good opportunities. We read various commentaries that were post-colonial, feminist, queer, African American, indigenous, and so on. I had great discussions with classmates that represented a various sexual orientations and gender identities. We explored masculine, feminine, and queer aspects of God.

We read a commentary on Daniel by Mona West in The Queer Bible Commentary. She spoke about Daniel’s ability as a court eunuch to cross boundaries and compares it queer people‘s abilities throughout the ages to cross boundaries. I wonder about my abilities to cross boundaries on my spiritual journey.

I also have been thinking about what the post-establishment church can learn from post-colonial theory. I suspect that this thinking may lead me to reading an odd collection of Stephanie Spellers, Martin Copenhaver, Roland Allen, Gayatri Spivak, Frantz Fanon, Musa Dube, and who knows whom else.

In the News and Religion course, I explored context from a different perspective. Mark Silk’s book, Unsecular Media: Making News of Religion in America provided a nice starting point for exploring religious frames in U.S. news coverage. The course involved a fair amount of writing, some of which I shared on my blog. I hope that it has improved my writing and to keep up aspects of that writing on my blog.

All of this leads to questions of my own identity. I now feel comfortable identifying as a seminarian, even though I am an online seminarian who is also working full time supporting a family. I don’t get to hang out with other seminarians as much as I would like, and even when I do, I am aware of how different my experiences are.

In one discussion with a fellow seminarian, I spoke about being a bi-vocational seminarian. Various people talk about the need for bi-vocational priests, and I wonder how well we can prepare people to become bi-vocational priests if we don’t embrace the idea of bi-vocational seminarians. There is something about crossing boundaries in this.

Likewise, I have spent time pondering how to respond when someone calls me a priest. I get that a fair amount. I don’t want people to think that I am currently ordained, but in most cases it doesn’t make sense to get into details about ordination or the process. One friend recommended I read Carter Heyward’s A Priest Forever. With all my reading for my classes, I’ve only gotten a chance to read a small section of it, where she talks about the days right before her ordination and discussions of being an “ontological priest”. There is something here I am exploring as well, something important for many of my friends who are ontological priests that have been damaged or rejected by the process. There is something here about crossing boundaries as well.

This leads me to another question about my own identity. I was baptized, brought up, and confirmed as a Congregationalist. In college, I was received into the Episcopal Church which has been my denominational home for decades. This past year, I have been spending time with folks from Andover Newton at Yale. I had an opportunity to travel with a couple seminarians and a dean up to a UCC church in Massachusetts where the dean was preaching. It was a truly wonderful trip up and back, with the four of us talking non-stop the whole time.

As an advent discipline, I’ve been attending Great Vespers at a local Orthodox church. I also went to a concert at another Orthodox church sung by seminarians from St. Tikhon’s seminary. My wife and I had a wonderful time talking with the seminarians after the concert.

These ecumenical explorations have been important to me as I try to find the communities I am called to.

It leads me back to important metaphors about the journey, about being a peregrino, a pilgrim. It is a wonderful journey and I am thankful to each of you who are walking along side me. I look forward to the vistas on the next leg of this journey.

In Christ,
Aldon

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