The FTE Blog

Letting Loose Leadership by Laura Mariko Cheifetz

2012-02-20T18:40:38+00:00

Earlier this month, Frank Yamada was inaugurated as tenth president of McCormick Theological Seminary, and the first Asian American president of a Presbyterian Church (USA) seminary. I was able to attend, along with other FTE staff, at the tail end of the Samuel DeWitt Proctor Conference.

First, a moment of full disclosure: I am an alumna of McCormick. I was part of Frank’s ordination commission. We have worked together when I was in Chicago. Now I know Dr. Yamada as one of many important partners in the work FTE does with leaders in theological education.

This inauguration? It was cool.

It was webcast. Attendees were encouraged to Tweet (#mts2040). The service itself brought to a close a whole 30 hours of service and conversation about the multiple futures of theological education. The inauguration was held at the Apostolic Church of God, and I was able to sit with one of its pastors, a classmate from my first class in seminary.

Frank joined a genealogy of Asian American Presbyterian leaders when our friend (and former colleague) Mary Paik presented him with a worn copy of the BHS during her charge to him. Yes -- the Hebrew Bible was given to someone who actually remembers his Hebrew. This Bible was passed from Wesley Woo to Joey Lee to Mary Paik to Lonna Lee to Bruce Reyes-Chow to InHo Kim and WonHo Kim to John Lee to me to Irene Pak and to Joann Lee. Each of us put our name seal in traditional red ink and our signature in the Bible over the years. Mary collected 18 other signatories who are Asian American leaders in the wider church. Now the Bible resides with Frank. Mary concluded her charge with, “So with this Bible, I charge you to lead us in the way of justice and reconciliation, knowing that you are not alone. We are on this journey with you.”

In his inaugural address entitled: “The View from 2040: the Futures of Theological Education,” President Yamada turned traditional church/academic leadership styles on its head. He presented a model of leading that believes the visions for the future will reveal themselves to those who listen to God’s vision, and to those who let a new generation play. President Yamada said: “Set this generation loose on the churches. Set them loose in the classrooms. If I must be more concrete, give them jobs… Set this new generation on theological education and the churches, and I guarantee you that they will transform it.”

This moment was more than cool. This Asian American Christian community of leaders spans generations, from people in their 20s to people in their 70s. This community, which played a role in nurturing my leadership, has modeled intergenerational mentoring and friendship. My elders let me and my peers “play,” as it were. Now, it is my turn to let a new generation play.

FTE has a long history of supporting young leaders, and enabling them to be set loose upon the church and the academy. What communities nurtured you? How are you setting the next generation loose?

On Seasons and Scholars by Adam L. Bond, Ph.D.

2012-02-13T18:14:02+00:00

At this point in my career, I have come to recognize the seasonal nature of my vocation. Raking a few leaves and drinking hot chocolate has also helped bring this thought to a blog. My professional calendar as a doctoral student had roughly “four seasons:” Coursework (including languages), qualifying exams, the dissertation, and the job search. The seasons of the academic’s life, moreover, continue in the tenured and non-tenured position. They just have different names: teaching, research and writing, mentoring, and committee work.

One may find that seasons have some imbalance based upon location. For example, a person who lives in the Deep South does not know a real winter for more than a couple of months—if that. A professor at a teaching focused institution may not receive large blocks of time for research and writing. Navigating the vocational calendar of the scholar, therefore, requires that one consider the changing seasons of her/his experience. “Climate changes” arise and require planning for the days and weeks that follow. (That will be my last weather reference, I promise.) Here are some things to consider as you continue your vocational journey.

A good place to start is with the contract that you sign when you enroll in a Ph.D./Th.D. program. You are basically telling the institution that you are accepting what it offers prima facie when you sign that financial offer and register for classes. If this is the case, review the details of the program in the graduate student handbook. Know the nuts and bolts of the degree requirements. Learn the written and unwritten rules of your department. Be sure to know what is required of you. It is okay to ask your colleagues for advice, but you should know what the handbook says about the program. Questions such as “how many courses do I need to complete residency?” or “What is the process for transferring in credits from a previous graduate degree program?” may be crucial information for your success.

Knowing the terms of the agreement with your graduate program will make you a more informed and efficient student. My first graduate adviser, Dr. M. Shawn Copeland taught me this lesson early in my time at Marquette. She referred me to the handbook for specifics and made me aware of the hidden resources at the university and in the city. Such instructions and guidance are necessary for a successful and timely graduation. The handbook will be very important for items such as qualifying exams and preparation of the dissertation and defense. Knowing where to find the information and what to do with it can save you from having to ask people a lot of questions about basic matters. (Save most of the questions for the challenging portions of your journey.)

As you progress through the doctoral program, it is important for you to discern what the curriculum tells you about your vocational goals. By curriculum I mean the larger educational experience that comes with being in school. This curriculum includes courses, exams, professional conferences, and interactions with professors and colleagues.

While you are learning your field, you will learn more about your goals. You will encounter professors who practice the type of instruction and/or have the type of publication record that you envision for your career. Embrace this person or these persons as mentor(s). Talk with your mentors. Learn more about the call to teach. Use these and other conversations as a way to ask yourself an important question: Where do I see myself being at my best, enriching the lives of my students and finding fulfillment in my work?

This vocational question is an important one to answer. Your response will influence the way that you produce your work and engage the field. If your desire is to publish early and often, you might find yourself frustrated at a small liberal arts college that emphasizes teaching. The 4/4 teaching load is an invitation to new course preps and nights with Netflix and student papers. The “publish or perish” research university and/or divinity school has its own pressures that impose major career deadlines.

Do you desire to work with church leaders? How about young adults who still act like teenagers? These are all important questions that you have time to resolve in the privileged space that is graduate school. This is when a mentor can help you focus on the bigger picture in small, manageable steps.

A final but very important consideration is your physical and emotional well being. You have to define balance for yourself. Know what makes you healthy. Speaking from experience, others cannot define balance for you. You are the best judge of your highs and lows. For the most part, you know where you find your energy (e.g., the library v. the mall). If we are honest with ourselves, we also know when we participate in too many things—emotionally and physically.

The academic’s life can lead to imbalance. Whether you are single or with partner, a parent or caregiver, life continues regardless of your degree and professional pursuits. Defining balance for you, perhaps with the assistance of a mental health professional, can make a world of difference. One then learns that “no” is not a profanity and earning a doctorate is a legitimate life calling. We do more than read books and take long summer vacations.

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Adam L. Bond is Assistant Professor of Historical Studies and American Baptist Liaison at the Samuel DeWitt Proctor School of Theology at Virginia Union University. He is the author of the forthcoming Judson Press book I’ve Been Called: Now What? (2012).

Vocation Exploration in Seattle by Britney Witt

2012-02-07T18:01:36+00:00

This weekend five of us from Hollywood attended a conference in Seattle put on by Volunteers Exploring Vocation. While it a was a short retreat, the time was spent doing some serious reflection and discussion on what vocation means and how to discern vocation.

Before the conference, I simply associated the word vocation with a career path. I expected to attend this conference and learn about different ministerial and social justice vocations. Instead, we discussed vocation in a way that I never considered. Vocation is more than just a career; it’s your lifestyle. Throughout the weekend, the definition of vocation revolved around this central theme: where your greatest desire and the world’s great need meet.

When I moved to Hollywood, one of my main goals was to find purpose. I thought if I moved away from home to do a year of service, God would illuminate the neon sign pointing directly to my “calling.” Honestly, I wanted to take the easy route…you know, let God make the decision of what I should do with my life, and then, I would just do it. I mean that is what we all think, right? God gives a calling. He grants us gifts and talents, which determine the path we should take. But, what if adherence to that mindset is just laziness? What if God’s call is for us to just do what we choose to do and do it with purpose?

I have decided for my life that purpose is not given to me. Purpose is a reflection of the praise and servitude that comes from being a follower of Christ and by doing what I am most passionate about.

While I’d like to say that the conference on vocational exploration concluded with that neon sign or an enlightened answer as to what I’m suppose to do with my life or what my life purpose is, I can only say that it reaffirmed this idea that I live in a constant state of discernment. It’s a lifetime journey that should NEVER have a conclusion.

This weekend, I began to truly reflect on what my vocation looks like at this moment. During my time in Hollywood, I am facing a lot of challenges. My job as the Neighborhood Partnership Co-ordinator asks me to step out into a very uncomfortable place that forces me to evaluate my own identity and awareness of intercultural competency. My intentional community asks me to be vulnerable and sensitive in ways that reveal my deepest flaws and my selfish demons. My city asks me to see the face of God in the not so glamorous and not so rich Hollywood that gets portrayed on television. All of these features collectively make this journey a place of discernment. In this place, I am forced to question, reflect, and discuss who it is that I am and who it is that I want to be.

More than just the recognition of my present circumstances and the impact they have on discerning my vocation, VEV and the fellow volunteers that I met in Seattle helped me realize that this is not a journey I am willing to cease after one year of service. I want more, I need more, and God deserves more. If I am in search of an authentic relationship with God, then I must be willing to continue my devotion to seeking vocational discernment for the rest of my life.

Now, am I clear on what my deepest desire is? No. Am I clear on what the world’s greatest need is? No.

What I am clear on is my need to seek the answers to those questions whole-heartedly without ceasing.

Whether I become a teacher, stay a social worker, or join a circus, my hope is that it will be done with purpose.

Just a side note: Pretty sure I fell in love with Seattle! Must get back there soon!

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This article was originally posed HERE.

Let’s Play the Blame Game: A Response to “Why I Hate Religion But Love Jesus by Rev. Julian “J.Kwest” DeShazier

2012-01-30T14:45:11+00:00

Wanna learn how to start a fire in religious circles? Pay attention: Jefferson Bethke is an Eagle Scout.

Watch the video below. For the lyrics, CLICK HERE.

His most recent video, “Why I Hate Religion, But Love Jesus”, opines over the lack of authenticity in religious leadership, calls into account the dangerous compound of faith and politics, and berates the self-righteous (Amen!). But in making a few good points, Bethke may have thrown the baby out with the bath water.

If you’ve ever played the “Blame Game” before (who hasn’t?), then you know how this works. Something goes wrong Someone gets blamed. This literally takes on “biblical” proportions when you think about the scapegoat and its origins. As long as humankind has existed together in community, it’s been someone else’s fault. Why do we always need something to execute?

Wars have indeed been fought in the name of God. Priests, vicars, monks, nuns, and pastors have lied, cheated, stolen from and exploited the innocent. Politics and Religion do make strange bedfellows, and the Religious Right does have a “special” (almost impressive) way of loving Jesus while ignoring the ethics of the Gospel. Bethke is right, there are huge churches that fail to feed the poor, and condemn single mothers: a huge mess. But “spraying perfume on a casket”? One day he’s gonna want those words back.

Besides the conflation of terms (“RELIGION” is not a monolith); or the tautology of using scripture (a RELIGIOUS text) to argue against religion; or quoting scripture in irresponsible ways (God does NOT call all religious people “whores” in Jeremiah 3); or…there’s more???...grandiose, ReTweetable statements like “Religion is man searching for God/Christianity is God searching for man.” Almost sounds like Rabbi Abraham Heschel; instead it sounds like nonsense. There’s no need to maliciously pick everything apart; it is quite clear that Bethke has good intent. He wants people of faith to have more integrity; for their ethics to match up with their jibber-jabber; for our theology and praxis to align. Is this not also what God wants?

Bethke’s goal has also been the aim of good faith practice since we started ritualizing our history and burying the dead (the beginning of “religion”). *vast generalization alert* One arc of the Hebrew Bible rails against folks who have become too loyal to law and ritual to connect with YHWH. This is what Jesus comes to do: reorient humanity to the Law, not abolish Religion. After all, did he not then come back and use young Peter to start a CHURCH!?!

And here is the whole point. Jesus came back and created community. Didn’t start a new religion, but simply said, “Here’s a better Way to live. Now go out and create communities of people who can try better together. Create disciples of this Way.”

Religion is ALL ABOUT COMMUNITY. If you’ve ever stood in a circle and shared prayer requests together, you know this. If you’ve ever been to a funeral, you know this. If you’ve ever sat around and shared old stories with your family; if you’ve ever felt the warmth and comfort of being around other people…these are religious impulses, and they are so ingrained in our daily experience that we cannot avoid them. It’s a messy world, and religion finds a way to still create community. Better than any other institution or worldview. And I believe that nothing has more potential to foster genuine, loving, ethical, Beloved Community like Religion. That is why I am a pastor.

Jefferson Bethke is focused on the problems; I am consumed in the potential. He sees the dirty water and calls for a cleansing; I see the baby in the tub. For all the woes of this world, and the many ways our faith has caused them; there yet remains hope in the gathering of a few who believe in something greater than humanity. For all we’ve done, for all we’ve ignored, for all we’ve hurt: God still calls us together. God still loves us.

Jefferson Bethke certainly does hate religion: his video contains no community and breathes no hope. But in doing this, I’m not sure he loves Jesus.

Re-Membered Into The Body of Christ by Asher Herman O’Callaghan

2012-01-20T14:07:25+00:00

About a year ago, my faith community formally blessed me and the gender transition I was in the midst of undergoing by including a re-naming rite as a part of our regular Sunday liturgy. In addition to being a parishioner at House For All Sinners and Saints in Denver, CO, I also happen to be transgendered. For me this means that at birth I was not declared to be the sex/ gender that I am currently living as. So I grew up as a female named Mary Christine Callahan and then did a legal name change, began hormone therapy with testosterone, went through puberty a second (and infinitely more enjoyable) time, and now live as a guy named Asher Herman O’Callaghan.

Like many of my fellow parishioners, I am a religious refugee. Some of us were or are walking wounded from attempting to fit ourselves or allowing others to fit us into fundamentalist or evangelical churches. Since making our exodus, we somehow made the happy mistake of stumbling upon a church we’ve found ourselves miraculously able to stomach. The church I grew up in had a strange fondness for the condemnation of others. As a kid, I internalized this message condemning “others” to mean that I was condemned. After all, it’s difficult to not feel pretty darn “other” as a kid who wants to be a boy but who must clad himself three times a week in the necessary church camouflage of a frilly dress, various hair accoutrements, panty hose, and dainty shoes. In college, when I had left the church of my upbringing, I remember reveling in merriment at my freedom to wear jeans and a sweatshirt to worship services without getting socially reprimanded. But the relative freedom really lost its allure when I came to realize I liked girls, came out as bisexual, and henceforth began experiencing alienation as I was increasingly treated with a cold tolerance rather than acceptance, much less radical incorporation. I often felt that the ministry offered to queer folk at churches could be summarized as the following: 1) the ad-Ministering of “reparation” through which the more palatable aspects of our appearances could be salvaged and thus our queerness disfigured into something externally unrecognizable, or 2) the ad-Ministering of amputation from the Body of Christ that is the church through dis- memberment, thus preventing the pathology assumed to be present in us from further infecting the integrity of the rest of the Body.

I found that I was unable to live with either of these options. Thus, I got angry and left church for a couple years. So for me becoming a part of a church again was rather confusing at first. I was apprehensive the first time I spoke with our Pastor, Nadia, about thinking I was transgendered. I expressed a desire to transition into being a guy in order to more thoroughly exude the dude-ness I was longing to let out of it’s cage where it had been confined for so many years. One of the things she said in the conversation that followed with me was, “Honey, what can we do for you?”

She tracked down a re-naming rite that another Pastor had used, we sat down and made some alterations to it, and picked the date it would be used. My favorite line from the rite will continue to resonate with me for years to come: “Bear this name in the name of Christ. Share it in the name of mercy. Offer it in the name of justice.” I also set aside a table with a flower on it where I lit a candle, displayed my former name lovingly written, and some pictures of myself growing up. This was a way for me to pay tribute to and memorialize my childhood and my former name. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything as personally poignant as being affirmed that night by my congregation and greeted as Asher.

The re-naming rite has been just one of many instances I’ve partaken in as a parishioner of HFASS that has demonstrated the power of a liturgical imagination at work within a community of faith. And the invitation offered by my congregation to help create, participate in, and experience liturgy in imaginative ways has empowered, transformed, and invigorated me. I’m currently pursuing candidacy towards ordained ministry in the ELCA. The generous grant from FTE has enabled me to cover application costs for my candidacy and continues to extend our congregation’s ability to ignite transformation.

Though my gender transformation might sound rather exotic, I assure you that the greatest transformation I’ve experienced has been being re-membered into the Body of Christ. I’ve gotten knit together with my brothers and sisters into this fearfully strange and wonderful reconciliation that trespasses boundaries to sustain us individually and the Church collectively. Week after week, we receive Christ’s flesh and blood that incorporates us to his embodiment even as Christ’s Body is incorporated into our bodies. It’s weird. It’s disconcerting. It’s uncomfortable. It’s more than a little frightening. But it’s also our salvation and the sanctification of the Church. Which turns out to be very good news indeed.

(p)reaching out! by Kristina Heise

2012-01-13T15:36:53+00:00

A few hours ago I made the long drive back to Cleveland from Louisville where I had attended and preached at the 2012 Festival of Young Preachers hosted by the Academy of Preachers. I would have thought that after three days of hearing God’s word through 30 different denominations, flowing from the mouths of over 120 preachers that my heart would be quiet and my mind still. Instead my mind is racing in a post-celebratory buzz. It seems that although my suitcase that carried my clothes is unpacked, the suitcase of my mind is just starting to reveal the extent the Festival touched my soul.

I had attended to Academy of Preachers preaching camp in Atlanta this past summer, thanks to the generous sponsorship of the Fund for Theological Education. Almost six months later, I am still unpacking exactly how powerful that experience was in my life. I gained an ability to experience God in a way I had never anticipated through other preachers, built friendships which will continue to define and support a lifetime of ministry, and witnessed the gospel transform right before my eyes.

I began my first semester as a Master of Divinity Student at the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago this past fall, and in the struggle of transitioning my life from full-time work to full-time academics, the memory of the peace, love and gospel I witnessed at preaching camp continued to (p)reach out to me when I needed it most.

That being said, coming to Louisville was nothing like I expected, for which I could not be more grateful. I had anticipated it would be more like preaching camp where we would be up late, helping each other add finishing touches on our sermons. Instead, I witnessed the celebration of work that was completed before planes landed, cars were parked, and people obtained their room keys. I watched and listened to countless sermons that left no doubt in my mind that these young ministers diligently prepared their sermons well in advance. It was very evident to me that most of my colleagues had been so prepared because they were equally as excited to receive God’s word as they were to be the voice sharing God’s word.

While the intention of the Academy of Preachers is to inspire and prepare young preachers to share the gospel, the hidden ministry the AoP teaches is the ability to be actively present, building the pastoral skill sets to truly listening to what is being said. I witnessed time and time again, preachers in the assembly and not at the pulpit craving to truly be engaged in the snapshot moment in time, a moment that can be recorded but never relived.

I came to preach, but I left listening. I came with the intention of celebrating the good news of Christ Jesus with people I had never met, but I left learning how to communicate with new brothers and sisters. I came wanting to strengthen old relationships, and I left with new relationships that are already strong.

I know that in the days, weeks, and months to come I will continue to unpack and discover the blessings of this Festival, and the gifts of this snapshot in time will continue to (p)reach out to me when I need it most.

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This blog post was originally published HERE.

Noting a Woman’s Body by Enuma Okoro

2012-01-05T13:44:03+00:00

God knows women's bodies always have a way of getting our attention. This is not breaking news. But in the past two weeks two storylines have been breaking out and gaining traction on the female body, and I have been both painfully and gratefully reminded that there are always at least two sides to any story.

The headlining of the two stories started back in January of 2011 when Egyptian men and women joined in the collective unrest and civil protests against political and social injustices in North Africa and the Middle East known as Arab Spring. But the story reached a new chapter last week in Tahrir Square in Cario, where the Egyptian military and governing forces offered the world yet another powerfully devastating example of what seems permissible to do to a woman's mind, body and spirit. It is difficult to shake the images from the viral video of Egyptian soldiers kicking and clubbing a half naked female protester on the streets. One soldier's army boot stamping purposefully on the woman's exposed chest has made an indelible mark on both Egypt and the world. Reuters quoted U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton in a recent speech at Georgetown University saying, "Women protesters have been rounded up and subjected to horrific abuse. Journalists have been sexually assaulted. And now, women are being attacked, stripped, and beaten in the streets. This systematic degradation of Egyptian women dishonours the revolution, disgraces the state and its uniform and is not worthy of a great people."

“All the ways in which we treat women's bodies point to the sort of imagination we hold for women.”

Unfortunately we cannot look at Egypt and shake our heads because based on what we see occurring in both the developing and developed parts of the world, this "systematic degradation of…women" points to the prevailing narrative capturing our human imagination on what it means to be a woman, namely that our bodies are without value, are dispensable, and are public commodities to be acted upon freely by others. Just last month NBC covered the story of North Carolina's eugenics program for women in which mostly poor, black women were forcefully sterilized. A few years back Nicholas Kristof wrote in the NYT about the acid attacks on women in Pakistan. We hear so much of the horrific sexual and physical violence against Congolese girls and women that I worry we are becoming immune to the shock and horror of such atrocities. All the ways in which we treat women's bodies point to the sort of imagination we hold for women. Naturally, how we imagine women has clear ramifications on how we relate to women. Pick from any number of taglines to follow: advertising, pornography, video games, music lyrics. Each will take you down a similar trail of research and conclusions. This stuff is not new. But that doesn't mean we should stop paying attention.

There is another story worth listening to that has also been breaking out over the last two weeks. It tells another side of how to hold women in our collective imagination. Last week, in another country but not too far from where the Egyptian women have been protesting for their civil rights, marching in solidarity for one another and demanding justice from governing forces, a young unwed girl in an insignificant town gave birth to a baby boy. The girl's name is Mary and both she and her family say she has never had sex. But she just delivered a child and people have been saying that the child is the son of God, and the girl, virgin or not, claims that the Holy Spirit got her pregnant. She has also claimed that her child has been born to answer the cries of the oppressed, to upturn power from unjust governments and to lift high those considered without value, dispensable, in other words, "the lowly." Naturally, a lot of people have a problem with this story. But I've been wondering, as I listen to the news around the world, if our biggest obstacle to paying attention to this story is that it would mean adhering to a different narrative about what it means to be a woman, a God-centered narrative, a narrative that suggests that women have a sense of their own power. Such awareness should be enough to threaten armies and governments. Those in political power should be worried. What if a woman's body held the beginning of the end of their oppressive regimes? What if resistance took the nonviolent form of bodily protest issued from a female body? What if a woman actually stood up to fear and consented to have her body bear the mark of God' strength, God's mercy, God's gaze and God's justice? What if a girl like Mary did say to God, "Here, I am," and chose to align her power with God's power? If this is true then it means that God has a wholly different sense than we have sinfully imagined of what it means to be a woman. If it is true then it means that God has heard countless other women say, "Here I am." God has heard women like Nehad Abul Komsan, head of the Egyptian Center for Women's Rights (ECWR). say, "Here I am. " God has heard Elaine Riddick, who sought justice after she was forcibly sterilized say, "Here I am." God has heard Congolese women, rape victims ready to speak out say, "Here I am."

There is a beautiful Chinese proverb that says, "When sleeping women wake, mountains move." Egyptian women are awake. In response to seeing their "sister" and "daughter" violated by the Egyptian military's abuse of power these women have taken to the streets in continued protest marching together and in effect promising one another not to turn away in fear, promising one another to keep testifying against an unjust and false narrative of what it means to be a woman. And instead to courageously keep trying to create a new narrative for all Egyptians to bear witness. The response of Egyptian women is a promise to stand firm and to be present, here, now.

If the story about that young girl named Mary is true then it means that God is in the business of aligning God's power with willing women for the healing of the world regardless of their country of origin. God is in the business of seeking justice for any woman, child or man whose mind, body or spirit has been misused, abused and "systematically degraded." Creative power aligned with the power of women. Surely we should be paying attention.

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This post first appeared on the Red Letter Christians website.

Happy New Year! by Rev. Stephen Lewis

2012-01-01T04:01:33+00:00

Friends,

Happy New Year! I hope that you had a wonderful holiday season and that you are preparing for an exciting new year.

As people contemplate New Year’s resolutions, many Christians around the world are preparing to celebrate the feast day of Epiphany, which commemorates God’s revelation in Jesus and his appearance to the world as God’s beloved Son.

What is God’s revelation in you or your organization? As God’s beloved, how will you appear to the world? On the dawn of a new year, these are two questions I am wrestling with on behalf of The Fund for Theological Education (FTE). And, we will spend significant time in 2012 discerning what God calls FTE to become in the next era of its history and specifically how it will conduct its work over the next several years.

This time of discernment offers the FTE Board, staff and me an opportunity to chart a viable path forward for the organization. While FTE will continue to conduct its business as usual, we will spend some time this year listening more intently to young adults, partners and friends as we discern God’s leading of FTE. I am especially excited about a few opportunities in 2012 toward this end, which consist of the following:

Meeting a new class of FTE Fellows and Transition-into-Ministry Pastoral Residents who represent the kind of visionary and adaptive leadership the church and academy need to shape the church’s emerging future.
Sharing a new vision for FTE that outlines the future direction for the organization and our hope for a new generation of church leaders.
Developing a strategic planning process to reimagine FTE’s work and to determine the best approaches for advancing FTE’s new vision and mission. (While our mission of nurturing the next generation of diverse leaders for the church and academy has not changed, where to focus our energies and how to effectively conduct our work must change over time.)
Convening generative conversations with key partners and religious leaders working to cultivate and mentor a new generation of visionary pastors and leaders for Christian communities.
Welcoming a new VP of Program and five new Board members who will bring a wealth of experience, wisdom and insight to FTE’s future work.

The future is bright with many possibilities. But we cannot envision or create it without partners like you. This work requires that we pay attention to a deeper longing for God’s revelation in all of us. It demands nothing less of us than our faith, courage and time.

The future compels us to embrace uncertainty and take extraordinary risk. It calls us to shift fundamentally the way we see, think and act together for the sake of what God envisions us—the church—to become and for the sake of the Gospel and the Spirit’s work in the world.

Therefore, we will resist making any New Year’s resolutions or predictions! Instead, we will spend the dawn of 2012 discerning FTE’s epiphany—what God is revealing about Godself in and through FTE and how the organization will manifest itself to the world in the months and years to come.

I pray that you have a wonderful and productive year and for God’s epiphany of the Holy child to be realized in us all.

Midwives, Mary, and a Golden Cord by Rev. Elizabeth Myer Boulton

2011-12-19T14:45:00+00:00

If your church uses Godly Play or Children’s Worship and Wonder, odds are the youngsters in your congregation have heard the story about the Christian year. In this particular story, the storyteller has two objects: a long golden cord and a circular puzzle full of color.

The storyteller begins by picking up the cord and stretching it out in a horizontal line, a golden metaphor for chronos time, linear time, the world’s time, with its beginning, middle, and end.

Then she turns her attention towards the circular puzzle full of deep purples, shimmering whites, and rich greens. “This,” she says, “is the church’s time, God’s time, kairos time.”

And then, to top it all off, she lays the golden cord down beside the puzzle, and slowly ties the cord's ends together to make a circle.

“God’s time,” she explains, “is different than the world’s time. In God’s time there is no beginning, middle, or end, no start or finish. God’s time is not a straight line. God’s time is a beautiful, golden circle that goes around and around and around.”

Then she asks one of the most beautiful questions I've ever heard: “I wonder what this makes you think of?”

For my part, it makes me think of the prologue to John’s gospel: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God...and the Word became flesh and lived among us.”

With his signature, circular language, John, like the storyteller in my children’s Sunday School class, ties together the ends of that golden cord: the Word of God -- who was in the beginning with God -- became flesh, becomes flesh, this coming Christmas day as much as any other. God’s Word slipped into our world, slipped into our time with its beginning, middle, and end.

I wonder what this makes you think of?

It makes me think of the midwives in Exodus. It makes me wonder if the ends of that golden cord were tied so tightly together that Shiphrah and Puah, too, appeared in that stable to help Mary labor, to attend the birth of God incarnate?

You know the story: the king of Egypt said to the Hebrew midwives, “When you’re attending a Hebrew birth, and see a Hebrew woman on the birthstool, if it is a boy, kill him, lest those people grow in number and fight against us.” But the midwives, fearing God, did not do as he commanded. They let life win (Exodus 1:15-17).

Then, thousands of years later, a decree goes out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered and Israel finds herself, once again, hanging by a thread. It’s true, Pharoah is no longer in charge, but Israel is still languishing, this time under Roman rule, and so is Mary, laboring in a barn, no birthstool in sight.

And so I wonder if Shiphrah and Puah were there, walking and swaying with Mary through her contractions, irregular at first, then stronger and more steady. I wonder if they supported her, encouraged her, challenged her, and praised her until finally God slipped into our world: God, wet and wrinkly and vulnerable; God, small and screaming; God, the Word made flesh and dwelling now among us.

It’s true: God’s time is not like the world’s time. God’s time has no beginning, middle, or end. God’s time is like a golden cord going around and around and around, connecting the stories, the pain, the hope and therefore the whole human family.

I wonder if those Hebrew midwives are with us now as we “get ready” for God to be born again?

I wonder if they are always with us in our seasons of deep purple, shimmering white, and rich green?

I wonder if they are with you now supporting you, encouraging you, challenging you, and praising you -- even and especially when you are hanging by a thread?

I wonder what this makes you think of?

Finding Purpose in 3D by Dori Baker

2011-12-13T14:54:11+00:00

This Christmas season I received a gift I love so much I can’t help but give it away. I took my 13-year-old daughter, donned the dorky 3-D glasses, and dove into 127 minutes of delight: Martin Scorcese’s new film "Hugo."

I rarely see first-run films. At $13.50, it seems absurd not to wait a few weeks until it comes to the dollar theatre. But I raced out to see Hugo after an email from a friend who said the movie reminded him of our work at FTE. Indeed, he was right: the movie hit me where I live, reminding me why I do what I do, love what I love, and care about what I care about. Hugo creates a space to celebrate all the things we embrace in the work of VocationCARE: holy listening, story-telling, community as source of healing -- and perhaps best of all -- unlikely friendships across generations, mysteriously in service to finding (or re-finding) one’s place in the world.

I won’t spoil it for you. If you want more, see Jason Stanley’s excellent review. But here’s the briefest synopsis. The movie is set in a 1930s Paris train station, where the clock-keeper is an orphan who lives alone in the station’s steam-filled inner core. Hugo (played by Asa Butterfield) watches the shopkeepers to know when to steal a baguette or a bottle of milk, and tries to stay away from the station’s overzealous inspector, who is onto Hugo’s scent. In the boy’s spare time, he uses parts stolen from a toyshop to fix a broken automaton rescued by his father. In the automaton’s repair lies the hope of a message from his deceased dad.

The film is so full of clocks, gears, and watches that one can’t escape pondering its allusion to Newtonian era views of God as a clockmaker. It depicts a world of industrial glory, where the universe seems to function as a well-oiled machine. Everything has its place is this landscape governed by reason alone; there are no spare parts in this design.

The owner of the toyshop, we discover, is at odds with his own past as pioneer cinematographer George Méliés (Ben Kingsley). Young Hugo befriends George’s goddaughter, Isabelle, (Chloe Grace Moretz) and begins working at the toyshop. Together Hugo and Isabelle launch into the film’s central adventure. Using as many SAT vocabulary words as one film can hold, they investigate George’s secret past and wonder why, cloaked in sadness, he is in exile from it. If there are no spare parts, Hugo wonders as he gazes at the Eiffel Tower, mustn’t every person have a role to play, a purpose in the grand scheme of things? Hugo’s purpose is to fix things: perhaps this extends to fixing people.

But in Hugo’s dreams, the timepiece goes missing and trains derail. What if God’s not a clockworker and the world’s not a machine? Perhaps reason alone cannot fix things, particularly human hearts and souls. In such a world, maybe the best we can do is create spaces where people are free to embrace their own brokenness, seek their own healing, and discern their own purpose. The movie’s climax is precipitated by what VocationCARE practioners will recognize as a self-awakening question. Imagine a young person asking an elder about a time in his life when all his most creative energies flowed in sync, pouring out into the world in feasts of whimsical, communally-made works of art full of dreams, magic, and illusion. This is what happens as Hugo asks the aging George a question and stands by to hear the answer.

At FTE, we frequently quote Quaker Douglas Steere, who writes that “the greatest service a human being can perform for another is to ‘listen’ another’s soul into a condition of disclosure and discovery. “ Perhaps the greatest gift anyone can give is to ask a thoughtful question and then hold the space, as if there is all the time in the world to hear the story that pours forth.

That truth lies at the center of VocationCARE. If you’d like to immerse yourself in a parable that brings this truth to light, grab a young friend, get yourself to Hugo, and dive in. (Or wait until it comes to the dollar theatre, and take your whole church).

Occupy Vocation by Matthew Nickoloff

2011-12-09T13:06:18+00:00

As protestors camp out in city parks across the nation over the last few months, the word “occupation” has dominated the media. Here in Denver, the Occupy movement is particularly vibrant, with many of the members of the House for All Sinners and Saints community participating, distributing supplies to protestors and homeless persons alike. For these folks, “occupation” is merely an extension of their sense of the prophetic aspects of their “vocation.”

It’s always been troubling to me how the terms occupation and vocation are too often conflated. Even in the church, discerning the latter often means discovering the former, and this generally means, “employment.” Yet, I wonder if the energetic, unemployed folks camping out in sub-zero temperatures might not have something to teach us about the true meaning of both occupation and vocation. Regardless of how we personally feel about their politics, perhaps theirs is a prophetic word that can also speak to our sense of communal practice and vocation as a church.

A few months ago, I was preparing a sermon on the Gospel reading from Matthew (Matt.22.15-22) in which Jesus, handed a Roman coin, is asked, “is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar?” It seemed absurd to me not to visit the Occupiers across from the capital building, where this very question was being lived out with embodied urgency. Upon arriving that particular Friday, however, I was shocked to discover not disgruntled citizens carrying signs, but riot police wielding clubs and arms loaded with rubber bullets. As if the audacity of folks seeking to re-claim and re-occupy sacred public space had also unmasked the true face of the Caesar unwilling to share his lordship with others. What the people sought to declare the property of all for the sake of all, Caesar sought to declare his dominion, and his alone.

The occupation movement has, at its heart, the unmasking and unveiling of true identity. Through the shared communal practices and liturgies of general assemblies, common language, shared music, disciplined endurance, and a willingness to suffer, Occupy Denver seeks to reclaim not only physical public space, but also, a deeper sense of communal identity. It seeks to make visible a different kind of world, and a different kind of life together.

Which made me wonder: isn’t this what the church is supposed to be in the buisness of doing? What if the church also sought to reclaim and re-occupy the sacred spaces and identities that are too often dominated by Caesar and his ideology of consumerism? What if, like the occupiers, its not through pre-made programs and paradigms of church growth, but through a shared commitment to communal practices, the church could re-occupy time? By creating opportunities for silence, Sabbath, and other deep spaces of contemplation and grace, spaces too often claimed by the oppressive nature of a competitive society bent on occupying every waking and dreaming moment of our days?

“What if the church also sought to reclaim and re-occupy the sacred spaces and identities that are too often dominated by Caesar and his ideology of consumerism?”

Thankfully, the day after my encounter with the true face of Caesar, House for All went on our annual Contemplative Retreat, made possible by our VocationCare grant from the Fund for Theological Education. While the protestors held down the fort of political space, a small band of unlikely radicals dared to defy the overly scheduled time-scape of the world to spend a weekend doing...nothing. The sole purpose of the retreat was, in fact, to create contemplative space where such a doing of nothing could be participants’ everything. The only thing “scheduled” were regular opportunities to gather together to practice centering prayer, as well as for a Eucharist confected against the backdrop of Pikes’ Peak, looming sublimely over the retreat space, and in our imaginations.

Establishing a regular rhythm of doing nothing was, in a sense, the bread and butter of the retreat. But the highlight, for many folks, came the second day, when as a community, we walked a prayer labyrinth. Labyrinths have always been important to my own spirituality; but nothing could have prepared me for the power of journeying its twists and turns along with thirty other brothers and sisters in Christ.

The depth of the experience hit home as I was leaving the labyrinth. as I walked up the hill back towards camp, I turned around and was struck by what I saw below. The circular shape of the labyrinth resembled to me, in light of our Gospel, a kind of coin. And on that coin was not the image of Caesar, seeking to solidify his own security through inciting fear, competition and manipulation. Instead, I saw thirty fellow pilgrims, at various points on their own spiritual journeys, their pathways weaving in and out of one another’s. Like a kind of dance, or a magnificent, musical fugue. As paths crossed, I was struck by how often each party would move to the side for each other. There was no competition. Only mutual respect and service, cooperation and community, room for all, unified together in our beautiful diversity.

Contemplating the image on the face of the coin of that labyrinth, I saw the face and the image of the Triune Troubadour, and the music she sang carried up the hillside, placing in me the insatiable desire to twirl, to dance, and to hope. I saw, in that shared communal practice, the church, embodying and incarnating the very life of God in the Spirit. And in doing so, like the protestors back in Denver, our community lived into its vocation of witnessing to and living the reality that in Christ, it is God, and not Caesar, who truly occupies the space of creation.

Occupying shared communal practices, particularly through the creation of shared space for contemplation, is a large part of the church’s vocation, and also an essential way in which the church enables its members to discern the vocational notes God is creating in them in God’s composition of the fugue of the church’s mission. And, ironically, such space is created, not by filling it with the work and busyness we commonly associate with the word “occupation.” Instead, like the Denver occupiers whose vocation to re-claim public space was opened up largely by their lack of job or occupation, so too, the church’s vocation of witnessing to God’s occupation of the creation is manifest when, together, we un-employ ourselves, and instead, occupy ourselves with doing nothing. Waiting together. Listening together. Singing, dancing, and hoping together. Being the people of God. Together.

What if the church learned from the Occupiers how to re-occupy and re-claim our own space, the space of God? What if, by observing the revolution on the streets, we also learned how to embrace the revolution we already have, the revolution of grace upon the human heart? What if, in renouncing the quick fix, the easy answer, and the jam-packed schedule, we as a church discovered again for the first time the song, the grand vocational fugue, God is singing through us to a tired and over-taxed world? Imagine what the church could offer back to the revolutionaries who have taught us so much, if we embraced the vocation of the revolution we already have.

Go With All Your Heart by Kathy Lee

2011-12-05T14:26:42+00:00

I want to add my voice among all of this Black Friday Holiday Gifts In Yo Face Must Have Deals Grouponcopious Ticking Time Bomb You Can’t Afford This Except for Today O M G Why Do We Do This Every Year Extreme Makeover Madness.

Gift-giving is great. Giving gifts that are meaningful is also great. But let’s be honest. If I were to tell you that instead of buying you something this year, I donated money to a charitable organization on your behalf, would we still be friends this time next year? Now you’re just envious of some Mongolian family who has a water buffalo that you could’ve used… or re-gifted to a co-worker. So instead of creating a spirit of covetousness, let’s meet in the middle. Let’s buy each other goods that make a positive impact in the life of someone deserving. Kind of like TOMS, except these organizations have not hit hipster, trendy status. So let’s give our undivided online attention to:

Thistle Farms is a social enterprise that employs women of Magdalene, “a residential program for women who have survived lives of violence, prostitution and addiction.” NPR has several stories that covers how Magdalene and Thistle Farms are helping women overcome tremendous obstacles through self-empowerment and a community that loves. I had the opportunity to visit the Thistle Farms facilities this past Spring, and I cannot describe how hearing such stories of transformation and healing impacted me. AND I walked away with some uh-mazing lip balm and shower gel. (I highly recommend the Tuscan Earth flavor. It’s what heaven must smell like.)

The Learning Tea is a nonprofit “dedicated to help educate impoverished young women in Darjeeling, India.” I picked up a package of The Learning Tea black tea during a coffee shop work session at Dr. Bombay’s Underwater Tea Party in Atlanta, GA. I was drawn immediately to their attractive packaging.

The Learning Tea sells loose leaf teas grown in India and 100% of the sales goes back to projects in India. Here are some not-so-fun facts about what life for a girl in India might look like:

1 out of 6 Indian girls do not live past the age of 15
Nearly 2 in every 3 women in India are illiterate
35 million girls do not attend school in India
Among married women in India today, 75% were under age at the time of their marriages.

Whoa-man, being a woman in this world has its challenges no matter where you live. From Nashville to India, there are opportunities for us to do good while purchasing gifts for those we love and/or feel obligated to buy gifts for. So, if you’re wondering why I bought you lotion instead of what you really wanted for Christmas, it’s because it was 20% off and if I added $25 more dollars to my order, the shipping would be free.

[Small group follow-up question: Are there other social enterprises that offer products you wouldn’t mind getting as a gift? Is Apple one? Buy an iPad and an employee gets one for 30% off?]

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This post was originally published HERE.

Radical Trust: Our Christian Roots by Jocelyn A. Sideco

2011-11-15T13:38:38+00:00

So I went...to an extremely broken place and reality, because my friend had friends he wanted to help.

New Orleans’ entire infrastructure was compromised by hurricane and flood damage and our nation struggled to respond adequately with resources and more importantly, a plan for recovery.

Enter God. Enter Mercy. James Keenan, SJ, defines mercy as the “willingness to enter into the chaos of others.” I found myself in the chaos of soggy homes, inadequate insurance coverage, limited resources, frightened and overwhelmed leaders, a growing desire for security and stability, and a hunger for what “used to be.”

I had no intention to stay in New Orleans much less begin a Christian Community. But things just seemed to make sense. People from all over the world were coming to help people in New Orleans because they knew them or knew their story somehow. I thought, if only everyone knew someone and made disaster, war, and poverty a personal issue. Then, perhaps, we would take the time to help out.

After the flood poured into the city and filled 80% of our homes, businesses, churches, and streets with an average of 5 feet of water and receded about 3 weeks later, we were left with many rising truths that continue to guide my ministry and influence how I accompany others:

The difference between urgent and URGENT, we began triaging what was important now and what was important over time.
That there is much work to do and that aligning myself with God’s vision meant being a Contemplative in Action.
That people are quick to help friends.
That life is found in sharing everything what we have with another.
That I am called to we relationships.

It quickly became apparent that the path to recovery was overwhelming. Individuals and communities found themselves paralyzed by tragedy and unable to move away from shock and despair. As I helped locals make some everyday decisions, I further realized that my role was to accompany them as they recreated their own lives. I couldn’t make the decisions for them, but I could create a space where they experienced God’s presence, God’s peace, and God’s joy ever so profoundly.

Addressing the urgent need involved a constant re-evaluating and re-assessing of our new reality. Soon we began to breathe between crises and to enter into a new rhythm of God's heartbeat that was sustaining and proved to offer lasting possibilities not immediate fixes. The urgency of rebuilding an American city older than the United States gave us an opportunity to re-imagine the local values, customs, and traditions. The urgency of "getting into my house" caused a fury of independent wrath that nearly hurt more people than it was worth. Unfortunately, without the proper planning, many homes were rebuilt so quickly that people are still worried about their ability to withstand another major storm.

That's when I realized that my own desire to help in this most broken corner of the world needed to be ever so grounded in God and God's dream for our world. Prioritizing communal prayer every morning allowed the Spirit to breathe into our days and offer us the wisdom of discerning where God was leading us that particular day.

Contemplation of God's created world did not come after all the work we did; it needed to come before so that our investment of time, energy, and resources were aligned to God's will, not ours.

Friendship at the Margins: Discovering Mutuality in Service and Mission (Resources for Reconciliation) by Christine D. Pohl and Christopher L. Heuertz has helped me put my experience into perspective. Creating friendships with people around us also meant we were becoming known neighbors to one another. A known neighbor has our best interest in mind. I think of Paulette who watched our home each and every day from the comfort of her stoop across the street. Our neighborhood watch keeps us all behaving better.

One of the most troubling realities during the aftermath of Katrina was a lack of care for, and even recognition of, our neighbor. Human Rights lawyer, Bill Quigley asks, “Who got left behind?” Katrina taught us to ask about our neighbors and how we might address their needs. In fact, when we are most honest, their needs become my needs. So I think of Shirley and her need to get to work without further hurting her back, or Johnson who got a bunch of new bricks but cannot transport them on his bike, or Imani who would like to practice her Spanish but no one at home could. I think of my neighbors often and wonder how they are doing.

That’s probably why our ministry is so attractive to folks engaged in short-term service or immersion experiences. Don’t get me wrong; there is definitely a place for folks learning how the world works and their place in it. But, at its worst, these trips just scratch the surface of discomfort by remaining at a distance from persistent and institutional injustice. We began Contemplatives in Action (CIA), an urban ministry and retreat experience, because we wanted to create an institution (fluid as it was) that answered a longer-term need. CIA agents were able to continue a relationship that other volunteers started or vice versa. If they can only be in New Orleans for one week out of the year, then we have become a community that they can trust throughout the rest of the year. In turn, our friends become known to one another and that’s how we build relationship and build the kin-dom.

Pohl and Christopher L. Heuertz name a current challenge: “to help cause-driven volunteers find their way into meaningful, life-giving relationships.” My suggestion: become a Contemplative in Action, root your service in real friendships and opportunities to be known to one another, and just step out of yourself and meet someone new.

Our ministry in New Orleans attracted many “cause-driven” volunteers. We were able to put names to faces, commitment to causes. One of my favorite projects is Team Enduring Hope. Initially started by a volunteer who just kept coming down to help out, Team Enduring Hope gave her a way to focus her athletic self at the service of a major cause that truly has changed her life. She trains, competes in, and raises money for an annual 70.3 Ironman. The first year, she did it herself. The second year, she convinced 20 more people to commit their time and resources in the same way. Now, these participants of Team Enduring Hope bring the ethic of endurance, prayer and hope—important values of New Orleans recovery and rebuilding—to all those they come in contact with.

When we decided to stay in New Orleans, Contemplatives in Action rented a house and became a part of the bigger story of recovery. Our witness was contagious. In sharing our resources for the benefit of our ministry, we shared ourselves with all the people affected by New Orleans, locals and volunteers from all over the world. We found life together just as the first few Christian communities were invited to: “All believers continued together in close fellowship and shared their belongings with one another. They would sell their property and possessions, and distribute the money among all, according to what each one needed” (Acts 2:44-45).

We identified with our new-found neighbors and friends, sharing the same needs and the same joys. This phenomenon no longer became just the story of Katrina survivors; it became our story as well. It was no longer about them, but it became about all of us. When taking new volunteers around the city of New Orleans, I began using “we” instead of them. I would get these confused looks and questions that asked, “But, you weren’t here when this happened though, right?”

I began to realize that this internalization of this corner of the world’s reality began to change me… and not just my ministry.

We are called — every part of us and all people. We are all called to be witnesses to and active co-creators in God’s dream for the entire world.

I pray in thanksgiving for all my friends and all those who I have yet to befriend, that they will continue to influence my ability to root myself in God’s truth and servanthood.

Tips for Preparing a Strong Graduate Application by Dr. Monica A. Coleman

2011-11-09T19:56:07+00:00

This is the first of a series of excerpts from the Nurturing the Next Generation of Scholars workshops at the 2009 Annual Meetings of the American Academy of Religion (AAR) and Society of Biblical Literature (SBL).

In partnership with the AAR, SBL and its regional organizational affiliates, FTE hosts recruitment workshops and conferences that invite promising students of color to consider the pursuit of the Ph.D. or Th.D. in religious, biblical, and theological studies.

Tips for Preparing a Successful Graduate Application from FTE on Vimeo.

Press play to hear and view Dr. Coleman's presentation

This presentation was delivered by Dr. Monica A. Coleman, Associate Professor of Constructive Theology and African American Religions at Claremont School of Theology.

Changing Systems, Personally by Jim Ellison

2011-10-25T16:41:47+00:00

I attended the funeral of Marion Zwicker. She was 80 years old. She and her husband, Otte, and their 55-year-old son, Kurt are special people. At one time, they were my parishioners and model church members in terms of attitude, service, and support. You could also say they were change agents, people who made things happen.

With four others, they started up an educational center for developmentally disabled adults. Years later, the founded a jobs center for the same population. They did what needed to be done to make sure their son, Kurt, had the service he needed to have a full life as a disabled adult.

Kurt was perhaps the most valuable member of our parish. Regularly, Kurt would bear the large processional cross down the aisle before the choir and me. It was quite a stirring moment! Kurt continues to live in the family’s home and continues to serve the church.

I went to the funeral home, feeling close to a family that I felt I knew. I thought I really knew Marion and Otte, as change agents, activists, and parents. At the funeral home, I found out more. Otte, now very frail, told me about Kurt’s birth 55 years ago. Otte, ever the sensitive one, not wishing to sound too spiteful, said, “Pastor, you’ve to remember that the times were much different 55 years ago.” He repeated that thought to make sure I understood the context. Then he told me that, at the time of Kurt’s birth, the hospital personnel informed Marion and him that their best option was to go home, tell their family and friends that their child was stillborn. The staff would arrange to have him transferred to a state institution, never to be heard from again.

Stunned, they lived with that reality for a day and a restless night--because that’s how it was 55 years ago. They were young people, desirous of living out a life of faith; young parents dreaming of building a family. Faced with loss and what was then viewed as a compassionate “solution” to their pain, ultimately, their choice was informed by their own faithful hearts.

The next day, Otte stormed the nurses’ station, demanding his son back. He was kindly turned away, assured that it was too late. Otte stood firm, stating, “Either you have my son here in 15 minutes, or I am going to the sheriff to swear out a warrant for the kidnapping of my child!”

I was overwhelmed. I sometimes fool myself into believing that I have been a change agent, someone to make things happen. Whatever my visions, they have been pale in comparison to a couple of 25 year olds who stood up and demanded their dear son--changing their own lives and the lives of others for the next half century and more. Today is not “like it was 55 years ago” because of people like Otte and Marion, two young people of faith who demanded change in the name of love. And many couples today, and all the Kurts of our society, and those of us richly blessed by him and by them, can simply give thanks for their courage and faithfulness.

Ecumenical Bounty: A New Framework for the LGBTQ Conversation. by Tyler Sit

2011-10-21T14:41:02+00:00

Fifty years ago, someone would have guessed it was just a fancy sandwich: LGBTQ. Now, it has become a global game of tug-of-war with communion bread, inevitably creating a “winner” and “loser” dichotomy. Churches around the world—and certainly across America—are spinning themselves nauseous over what to do with lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer/questioning (LGBTQ) people, and I think it is time we reevaluate things mid-spin.

At FTE’s Calling Congregations 2011 Conference, one of the small group discussions explored strategies for creating a discourse around LGBTQ-related issues that are not divisive or hurtful, as so many of the current conversations have devolved to be. Many insights shimmered out of this conversation, but one revelation stuck with me that could help any denomination, regardless of their polity:

The conversation about LGBTQ people and the church needs to happen in a graceful space that is outside of the loom of legislative consequence.

Nowadays, the conversation is most often happening in the context of policy battles (whether denominational or political), where ideologically homogenous people cling to whomever lets them affirm their beliefs without questioning.

The root of this ecclesial tribalism is the fear of a looming legislative process. During any deliberation or conversation, everyone is lending one ear to the other side and the other to future implications. The result is thoughts such as, “I am starting to understand what they are saying, but if I change my mind then x/y/z will happen.” Ultimately, everyone hunkers down on the ballot, tearing themselves from their brothers and sisters across the sanctuary aisle in the name of their own ideological understanding.

Let’s imagine that you joined FTE for the Calling Congregations Conference, and you are sitting down for lunch. You hear that the caramelized walnuts over sweet potatoes are especially delicious (the conference did take place in the South, after all), but you see that there’s only one serving left at the buffet. As you’re walking to get it, you see someone else eyeing the sweet potatoes, and you are left with a decision: either sprint ahead and take the delicious side dish before someone else or “be gracious” and lose it.

“The conversation about LGBTQ people and the church needs to happen in a graceful space that is outside of the loom of legislative consequence.”

Herein lies the problem with trying to find concession in a strictly denominational setting: at the end of the day, everyone is going to feel as if they lost—lost either what they originally desired or lost an opportunity to demonstrate graciousness.

This is where FTE comes in, along with any other ecumenical organization that encourages people to listen. Rather than having this conversation in high-stakes denominational arenas, we need to enter a space where a diversity of opinion can discuss things without fear of legal retribution.

Furthermore, the discussion needs to be framed with one of the Covenants of Presence in by FTE’s VocationCARE model: “Turn to wonder, not judgment.” We need to ask the questions we could never explore during a denominational hearing, like “I wonder what led her to be so passionate about this particular subject,” or “I wonder if I have hurt anyone while fighting for what I believe is right.”

They are difficult questions that may ultimately uncover some personal wounds. But those wounds are exactly what are preventing this conversation from moving forward in a dignified and faithful way. They need to be healed, and that is not likely to happen in the noxious atmosphere of a high-stakes vote where you will either be the winner or the loser.

United under one cause, such as supporting young leadership in the church, organizations like FTE need to host conversations where people enter with the understanding that they must turn to wonder and, more importantly, that their opinions may change. After the conversation ends and there is neither a winner nor a loser, the conversation participants can then go back to the battlefield of their communities and wave a banner of new understanding. They will be able to show their churches, and the world, that there is no need for panic—there is an abundance of grace to go around.

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Tyler Sit is LGBTQ Outreach Coordinator for the North American region of the World Student Christian Federation (www.wscfna.org)

Photo (cc) via Flickr user Katie Spence

The Categories Aren’t Working Anymore by Rev. Mark Williamson

2011-10-18T18:20:00+00:00

As a Lutheran pastor (ELCA) in Wheaton, Illinois, a town often regarded as the intellectual capitol of American evangelicalism, the intricacies of mainline-evangelical relationships are an ever-confounding aspect of daily life.

So it was with great interest and a longing for clarity that I hopped on the train into Chicago a few weeks back to attend "Reasons for Hope: A Dialogue on the Christian Future" featuring Barbara Wheeler and Richard J. Mouw. Jointly sponsored by The Christian Century and Christianity Today, the event brought together two respected leaders in theological education, each of whom I knew to be an articulate representative of her or his respective liberal or conservative Protestant camp. I was also aware that they had been honing this dialogue for several years now, demonstrating friendship across difference within the denomination they share (PCUSA), and that the good fruits of their relationship had been reaching beyond the Presbyterian fold at least since 2004 when the Century published side-by-side articles called "Why Liberals Need Conservatives" (Wheeler) and "Why Conservatives Need Liberals" (Mouw).

The premise, of course, of the ongoing Wheeler-Mouw dialogue is that there do actually exist two definable blocks in American Protestantism called liberal Protestant and conservative evangelical, and that their views can be represented intelligibly by two institutional leaders acting something like heads of state or diplomats. I think when I read those articles back in '04 I was possibly too taken by their irenic tone to question this premise. I also believe the landscape has shifted significantly over the last decade, particularly among younger generations, and that perhaps the greatest "sign of hope" is that this whole paradigm is so 20^th Century.

This is more or less how I felt throughout the Chicago dialogue: I struggled to buy in to the supposed neatness of the mainline-evangelical divide from the get-go. Further, I came away more convinced that we as leaders should do our best to stop reinforcing it (the news media clearly loves these categories enough; the church doesn't need to provide an echo chamber).

No doubt the liberal mainline v. conservative evangelical paradigm still works fine for some, but it just doesn't work for too many. Here are some reasons why:

A lot of those belonging to mainline denominations (like Mouw) also identify as evangelicals (state this the reverse way if you prefer). There is too much overlap. This is because evangelicalism is essentially a trans-denominational phenomenon, whereas the "mainline" specifically refers to a set of established, organized Protestant bodies. There is a problem of apples and oranges.
There are too many strains of Protestant Christianity that never fit the categories. Take, for example, the perennial example of African American Protestantism (unfortunately not acknowledged by the speakers until it was raised in a question) and also some of the historic peace churches or churches with an ongoing immigrant identity. Add also those now actively rejecting the categories, like the manifold expressions of the emerging church movement, also not mentioned in the lecture.
A lot of mainline Protestants are not particularly liberal; a lot of evangelicals are not particularly conservative. More precisely, their liberal/conservative leanings increasingly vary depending on whether one is thinking in terms of theology, economics, politics, morality, or culture.
Abortion and homosexuality, the two issues that over the last decades have been (as Wheeler, who made this point, described it) the "glue" that stuck the religious left and religious right together are now both understood with greater nuance and, more importantly, are shifting away from the center of most Christians' political identity.
Both can be found mobilizing and taking action toward common causes like caring for creation, eradicating diseases like malaria, and defending the alien—efforts that should be high priorities and relative no-brainers from the perspective of biblical faith.
Both value and embody in practice a shared heritage in the Reformation more than the other thinks they do. Evangelicals too often speak of "old-liners," as (ironically) having shallow roots, no deeper than the theological liberalism of the late 19^th, early 20^th Century. Mainliners too often speak of evangelicals as having no deeper roots than the publication of The Fundamentals, or, at best, the Great Awakenings in Britain and North America. Neither is accurate. Both cherish the hallmarks of the Reformation; both look back to look forward.

More points could be added. For those, however, still not much convinced that the Protestant waters are extremely muddier than reported, for those who still feel fairly comfortable with the mainline and evangelical categories and with belonging to one or the other, I would submit that, particularly in the present moment, there lies an evangelical (good news) imperative collectively to muddy those waters for the sake of those who don't yet believe in Jesus. Because if it was somehow workable in the 20^th Century to settle in more or less exclusively with either The Christian Century crowd or the Christianity Today crowd, there's certainly no justification for such an arrangement in the 21^st Century, where—as both Wheeler and Mouw acknowledged—the big story is the rapid rise of the "nones," or "no religious affiliation." In a context like this there's really no excuse for maintaining the previous century's comfortable distance. The mainline/evangelical division was a "privilege" a church in mission in North America can no longer afford.

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Photo (cc) via Flickr user vial3tt3r

Becoming a Church of the Cross by Matthew Nickoloff

2011-10-06T12:42:42+00:00

House for All Sinners and Saints is a community of theologians of the cross. Of such theologians, Martin Luther famously argued they were made “by living, nay by dying and by being damned.” It is such a belief that informs HFASS’ ethos of “anti-excellence, pro-participation.” We have become the church we are, not through pursuing programs, but by living, dying, and yes, sometimes being damned, through the messy, unclean, and ecstatically wonderful task of being a church of producers, not consumers; participants, not spectators; failures, not models.

It is always surprising to me how many people look to HFASS to be an inspiration or a model for their own church development aspirations. Because I like to believe that looking at HFASS is a lot like looking at the cross. Which is to say, looking at folly and foolishness as a source of wisdom; looking at brokenness as a balm of healing. HFASS does not have a list of programs, or a carefully scripted paradigm for “being a new kind of church.” What I think makes HFASS what it is is the fact that we work with what and who we have and are. As Luther describes the theologian of the cross, we “call a thing what it is,” and believe that, through the Gospel, God has provided us what we need for ministry through the gifts of the people God has gathered. Saints and sinners all.

“In reality, the people in the pews, by virtue of their created humanity and their re-creation in baptism, are already brimming with visions of ministry.”

So when we attended FTE’s July retreat on Vocation CARE, we were faced with what we Lutherans claim to love most: a paradox. Because as we were led through the steps of “creating space,” “asking self-awakening questions,” “reflecting theologically,” and “enacting what is possible,” we kept being surprised by how we were not so much learning a new way of being church, as we were being given the gift of a mirror with which to articulate what the Spirit has brought out of the treasures of our members. Which is not to say that HFASS knows it all. But it was, I believe, an affirmation that, in the post-“church growth” era, to be a new kind of church, one must forego programs and the promise of what we don’t have, in favor of what is already present. Becoming a new kind of church, I think, means to live Augustine’s famous Eucharistic admonition: “become what you are.”

Which is to say, if there is anything I am learning as the intern at HFASS, it is that pastors and leaders need training, not in acquiring new skills and innovative outlooks, but rather, in unlearning the programs of glory which always see the future as something somewhere else, and then to learn to trust the people present in their pews, right here, today. In reality, the people in the pews, by virtue of their created humanity and their re-creation in baptism, are already brimming with visions of ministry. They are just waiting for a leader who knows how to lead, not by asking for more, but by “giving away” power so that in the end transformation can be a shared effort. By way of example, take a more controversial aspect of HFASS’ emergent identity. We are often surprised that, around Denver, we are known as “the gay church.” This can feel ironic, because we did not come to include the term “queer-inclusive” in our self-description as a way to market ourselves to a population “out there.” Rather, I’ve been told, from the beginning HFASS has seen the diversity of gender and sexualities as part of the gifts already present in its midst. We do not, for example, serve meals at Rainbow Alley, a drop-in center for GLBTQ youth, because it somehow brings us closer to some abstract goal of “inclusivity.” We simply are a community that already includes these folks. As theologians of the cross, we call a thing what it is. And so, we simply follow the lead of Christ’s call in becoming more who we are.

While filling out a three-month internship report recently, I was asked, “what are you learning about leadership?” I wanted to simply write, “that church is made by living and by dying, nay, by being damned.” Because as a leader-in-training, what HFASS is teaching me is both how to live, and how to die. To live, inspired and empowered by the gifts that already exist, teeming all around me in the rich soil of a community that is not afraid to recognize with gratitude the gifts we have already been given, and to call them forth, recognizing them as vocations of ministry of all shapes and sizes. It’s messy. It’s foolish. It’s not entirely safe, or guaranteed. But it’s joyful. And it’s full of surprises!

And to die, learning to lead by learning to let go - and to trust that all the vocational gifts in the church do not belong to me, that indeed, even when things so frightfully wrong, even to the point where it seems damnation in the eyes of the world awaits, then, even there, especially there, God is creating the cruciform shape out of which to raise into our awareness the calling, and the path, by which faithfulness to the Gospel is to be found. It’s messy. It’s foolish. It’s not entirely safe. But it’s got resurrection written all over it. And indeed, it is full of blessed surprises.

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Matthew Nickoloff is currently the Vicar/Intern at House for All Sinners and Saints (June 2011-June 2012) and am affiliated with Lutheran Theological Southern Seminary (LTSS). Matthew holds an M.Div from Duke and a Masters of Sacred Theology from LTSS; he currently blog at duringtheworld.blogspot.com. Matthew is a candidate for ordained ministry in the ELCA.

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Photo by Matthew Nickoloff

In the Body of Faith and Hope by Suzanne Ehly

2011-10-03T12:58:26+00:00

I have always experienced my life intensely in my body, with my senses. Here are some early snapshots:

I remember my paternal grandmother sailing through the house with zealous, righteous cheeriness singing:

“Jesus loves the little children,
All the children of the world.
Red and yellow, black and white
They are precious in his sight.
Jesus loves the little children of the world.”

I felt myself included in those words, and they echoed what I was already learning in my clergy family about a great force of love, God’s love, Jesus’ love that enveloped me and all life.

And so I also remember the confusion and the claustrophobic, panicked feeling I had in my body when my grandmother rolled up all the windows and locked the doors of the car as we drove through downtown Jersey City. I remember the meanness and virulence in the sound of her racist comments about the people strolling outside our little barricaded vehicle. I felt shocked and wondered if perhaps the preciousness of ALL children ended when they were no longer children?

I remember, just a few years later the sting of being targeted for the mistakes of the adult singers around me as I happily sang God’s praises, the only young person in the adult choir of my father’s church. I remember the tight grip of fear, shame and anger in my throat and wondered where the love of Jesus was in that room...

Something was not right here. The same adults who claimed to be Christian and who were telling me the stories of this great love, were also saying things and acting in ways that were directly in contrast to those love stories.

Then, at age 10, I moved with my family to Tarsus, Turkey. My father had accepted a five-year teaching assignment at a boys’ high school run in part by the United Church Board for World Ministries. I experienced this as a life-saving move for me. Suddenly my father’s reign/way was de-centered. Suddenly the unspoken/unwritten cultural habits and rules that I was being raised to consider “normal” were put into high relief, rather than being the water I was swimming in. Suddenly I could see with my own eyes, hear with my own ears, smell, taste and feel with my own body, rather than through the filter of my family, that much of the world didn’t live according to the rules I had been learning. Suddenly white, Christian, middle class, US, English speaking weren’t “normal.”

Here I heard the call to prayer swirling sinuously five times each day above Tarsus, from the minarets of the mosques all over town, declaring the greatness of God; I learned to speak Turkish; I heard the whoosh and slosh of fresh milk being poured into the pail outside our door in the mornings, and the hollow-sounding bells around the necks of the cows and donkeys walking down the cobblestone street on their way to pasture; I walked along the immense stone roadways of the ancient city of Ephesus, and crawled into the early Christian dwellings and worship spaces of Cappadocia and understood in my body a longer arc of history than I had encountered in the US.

It was a momentary reprieve, but a life changing one. It meant that, returning to the US at age 15, I could feel the heavy cloak of empire descend in the rigid categories of gender, class, race, ethnicity, religion, language, sexual orientation, the lack of interest in the world outside white US culture... And I could feel that the cloak did not fit me.

Out of these (and many other) experiences, along with the discipline and commitment to ongoing practice and exploration as a singer, I developed a life-long commitment to examining and learning from my own body, to understanding the history that I carry in my own person, to an incarnational way of learning. I’ve pursued this commitment in my hybrid life as a performer and a teacher. My work as artist and scholar focuses on the exploration of the body and voice as a potential site of transformation. My passion is to lead myself and others in excavatory practices of uncovering and un-obscuring the history/ies, liveliness, humanness, creativity and sense of passion for a just community that I can see we all long for, no matter how confused we may have become. My work looks at the way heritage, identity and life experience are held and enacted in our bodies and imaginations. It examines what we are habitually practicing and seeks to build new practices that uphold rather than block the full vitality of bodies and voices.

In October 2010, I was sent to Atlanta to attend the Calling Congregations Conference with a small team of my colleagues from Life Together, the Episcopal Service Corps young adult intern program in Boston. I experienced VocationCARE as a set of practices that intend to enliven individuals and communities, with the potential to deepen our relationship to God, to ourselves, to each other and our communities.

Particularly within the context of the US, with its unique history of white supremacy and the concomitant suppression of peoples’ relationship to their own heritages and creation of a mythical US homogeneity, I am excited and encouraged by FTE’s new commitment to thoroughly welcoming the body and its wisdom and potential for transformation, coupled with a commitment to anti-racist practices and learnings. These commitments have truly powerful potential to invite us to live God’s call to love in sustainable, lively and grounded ways; the potential to make a unique contribution to the important national and international conversation on building justice, peace and dignity for every human being.

With these commitments, VocationCARE practices have the potential to re-enliven our connection to a longer arc of history, with all its good and troubling aspects, all its inherent hopes and fears, horizons and obstacles; the potential to re-enliven our inherent love for other beings, for all of creation, a love that has been obscured by nationalism and calls to safety and comfort that always exclude more than include; the potential to re-ignite our imaginations, reawaken our curiosity and build practices of deep, holy listening.

As I look forward to attending the FTE Calling Congregations Conference: Awakening the Courage to Care in October 2011, I am reminded of something that Desmond Tutu said to us while he was in residence at Episcopal Divinity School: “You [the USA] will become a great country when you have the courage to listen to each others’ stories.” I am excited to have the opportunity to be there, to learn and to awaken, alongside all of you, the next directions for our journey/s.

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Suzanne Ehly leads a hybrid life as soprano/performer and teacher. She is Adjunct Faculty in Voice and Studies in Contemporary Society at Episcopal Divinity School, where she teaches Unleashing Our Voices: Voice, Identity and Leadership and co-teaches Foundations for Theological Praxis and Preaching. At EDS she serves as co-chair of Change Team II, charged with moving forward EDS’ antiracist/anti-oppression mission and initiatives. She also works with Life Together (Episcopal Service Corps, Boston chapter) as part of the leadership and design team and as teacher/trainer/spiritual mentor. In addition she performs and leads workshops for a diverse group of organizations around the country.

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Photo (cc) via Flickr user dawe2k5

The “Snowflake” Church by Ella Auchincloss

2011-09-29T12:28:28+00:00

Last September, Arrington Chambliss and I attended FTE’s VocationCARE: A Deeper Look retreat in Atlanta, GA. We had been invited to learn about the VocationCARE work for churches and spiritual communities. We were interested because of collaborative work we are doing with young adults and congregations. We were learning the tools of VocationCARE to carry back to our Life Together and Leadership Develop Initiative teams that are working to revitalize church communities through intentional community and team-based missional leadership practices.

In one particularly memorable session, we were asked to envision what the church of our dreams and strivings would look like. We were asked to be specific—as if we were walking into this church for the first time.

I imagined the beautiful stone Episcopal Church at the end of my block in a suburb of Boston, MA with its front door painted bright red and always open. The sign at the front of the church was almost too full of information including such offerings as: “God’s Economy: Learn of New Forms of Collaborative Economy” and “Walking the Jesus Way through Contemplative Prayer.” The sanctuary was free of pews and its high-rise pulpit presided over a big open space. On this weekday, there were bicycles parked in the narthex. Big tables were set up in the broad space and young people were alive with work, planning for a social justice action in partnership with other churches in our town. This church was a hub for action, a learning lab for mission and, most of all, a place to pray and worship in a way that prepared people for building the Reign of God in the local community.

“ For me, this message translates into a bold messianic hope that the next messiah will take the form of a team bounded in love and a passion for justice. I believe this is the church Jesus taught us to build. ”

There was food, music, sporadic altars and a space for quiet contemplation in the midst of the busyness. The Old Parish House was converted to dorms and a common room for the young adult “social-justice ministers” who had become the lifeblood of the church. Young adults had come for a year to learn the intersection of the prayerful and the prophetic. The elders of the church were committed to supporting these young adults. The young people learned about what meant to walk the Jesus Way cultivating loving relationships with God, themselves and their neighbors.

In the vast undercroft was a free health clinic, operated by the storied surgeons and prominent doctors who have faithfully attended this church for many years. There was an office that opened once per week where people could receive free legal advice, staffed by our lawyerly parishioner’s, some of who have argued cases before the Supreme Court. On that same day, the parish team of investment professionals held a clinic to help people who had been affected by the foreclosure crisis. A group of retired men operated a church van that regularly transported people who needed our help to our church. Other members cooked and served soup in the vast kitchen and parish hall for all.

In many ways, Sunday was the quietest day of the week for this church. It was a time of contemplative worship and prayer, followed by a time where the laity were invited to reflect in small groups led by other trained laity about where they found God in their work, school of families and lives that past week. Each person was invited to share. There was a common respect for group process and this was the glue that joined them into a web of Jesus-loving disciples. The church school was its usually busy place. The teachers were the primary evangelists for this way of understanding Jesus.

The story of God in scripture was interwoven with the many stories of faith, hope and love embodied within the 100-year history of this congregation. Reflection and action were inseparable and people considered themselves more pilgrims on a journey than members of a church.

I began to imagine the Church using the “model of the snowflake”1, where each function of the whole was taken on by a team. Each team was grounded in a clear sense of purpose, bounded by clear norms and expectations and where everyone knew their role, duties and responsibilities to the team. Each team had a coordinator and a chaplain. These coordinators and chaplains were spiritually formed by the parish leaders. All the ministries of the church were connected by the relational commitments of team. The church itself was messianic. The church of my dreams is a church that is living into the fullest version of itself—using the gifts it already has to bring God in Jesus to the local community.

This dream led me further to explore the question: what kind of ecclesiology and leadership structures are needed to allow this church to emerge? There needed to be an ideological shift from “Church as Refuge” to “Church as Missional Epicenter”. The intense focus on “priest as the center” needed to be completely re-imagined. Seminary education needed to change as did the entire discernment process for Holy Orders. The work of understanding group process and developing strong teams needed to be woven into the fabric of leadership formation in the church.

By the grace of God, my team and I have been given a chance to explore these questions by a forward-thinking Bishop in the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts. We have created a program to teach these skills to congregational teams of comprised mostly of lay leaders. Our best teams are those where the pastors or priests do not take everything on themselves. They understand their call as one that is about empowering others to do the work of building the kingdom of God.

I have been graced by finding partners in this journey at FTE. FTE’s mission to “strengthen Christian ministry in the world by strengthening the quality of its leadership” is very much in sync with our own. FTE’s Stephen Lewis and Courtney Cowart’s work with VocationCARE has been instrumental in helping us develop the pedagogy for our leadership training. They have given us a creative space for dreaming and have collaborated with us in realizing our dreams.

Thich Nhat Hanh says, “It is possible that the next Buddha will not take the form of an individual.  The next Buddha may take the form of a community.” For me, this message translates into a bold messianic hope that the next messiah will take the form of a team bounded in love and a passion for justice. I believe this is the church Jesus taught us to build.

FTE has an important role to play in supporting communities that are experimenting and living into this vision. FTE can provide the container, tools and support for a growing movement of Christian leaders who are working to bring this church alive.

Ella Auchincloss is the Founder and Executive Director of the Diomass Leadership Development Initiative and educational adviser to the Diomass Life Together Intern Program. She is a member of the Leading Change Network led by Marshall Ganz at the Harvard Kennedy School of Government.

1. The Snowflake is a model of Team Structure, one of the five leadership arts, of Professor Marshall Ganz’s Community Organizing Curriculum. The snowflake is built upon Ganz’s definition of leadership: “Leadership is accepting responsibility for enabling others to achieve purpose in the face of uncertainty”.

Photo (cc) via Flickr user Thom Watson

Awakening Courage by Steve Knight

2011-09-26T12:44:09+00:00

I almost got stuck in a snow storm in Indianapolis back in February. On my last day in town, with my flight home cancelled because of ice, I found myself at an impromptu lunch meeting with Rev. Stephen Lewis. At the time, Rev. Lewis was serving as Vice President of Program for the Fund for Theological Education (FTE), and he began telling us about the exciting work that FTE has done in developing what it calls VocationCARE. As Rev. Lewis described how they developed VocationCARE, incorporating the brilliant leadership insights of Otto Scharmer and the spirituality of education activist Parker Palmer, I was impressed and excited to see how we might be able to incorporate what FTE has created into the overall offering we've been organizing for Hope Partnership for Missional Transformation. That chance meeting with Rev. Lewis led to an opportunity in April to go through the VocationCARE training with my Hope Partnership colleagues and to experience the transformative work of:

C - creating space to discuss Christian vocation together;

A - asking self-awakening questions together;

R - reflecting theologically on self and community; and

E - enacting the next faithful step

I've since learned that VocationCARE is just one of the amazing things that FTE does as an organization. They also provide fellowships for gifted seminary, undergrad, and graduate students, as well as other programs and initiatives to support young leaders.

One of the exciting opportunities coming up is the Calling Congregations conference, October 6-8, which has taken on the theme of "Awaken the Courage to C.A.R.E." Parker Palmer, the founder and senior partner in the Center for Courage & Renewal, will be the keynote speaker.

I've noticed this theme of courage keeps coming up over and over again. We noticed it pretty early on in the development of Hope Partnership for Missional Transformation, as well, and it made it into our purpose statement, which reads: "Hope Partnership's purpose is to empower courageous leaders as they guide the Church into life-giving expressions of ministry for this new era of God’s mission."

There's something about this tumultuous time we are living in today, with great change happening all around us and especially in our churches, that requires a unique kind of courage. And it requires leaders who have courage to lead, making difficult decisions and forging a path where there seems to be no way at present.

I'm grateful for leaders like Palmer and Rev. Lewis and for organizations like FTE that are leading the way. The future of the Church requires courageous leaders, and we need gatherings like the Calling Congregations conference to awaken that courage of conviction inside each of us.

"Our deepest calling is to grow into our own authentic self-hood, whether or not it conforms to some image of who we ought to be. As we do so, we will not only find the joy that every human being seeks—we will also find our path of authentic service in the world." —Parker Palmer

Watch the VocationCARE video from FTE to find out more!

The Church: Accountable to the Transformation it Promises (2 of 2) by Nicholas Hayes

2011-09-22T13:32:50+00:00

The Church, the Gospel and Transformation

How striking and tragic is the contrast that the church often presents to 12-step and other communities that hold themselves accountable for transformation. I believe this is to the great detriment of its vocation as Gospel-bearer. For what makes a more total, more dramatic and clear call to transformation than the Gospel, with its summons to metanoia—the about-face of one’s priorities, actions, of one’s very heart and being? And who presents a clearer model of the transformed human being than Jesus himself? Yet, in spite of their claims to “ultimate importance,” how often do we even hear our churches promising anything like transformation (the kind demonstrated within the Gospel stories themselves), with the courage and clarity of Alcoholics Anonymous? How often do we hear anyone challenging the church for not delivering, or hear the church admitting to failure in doing so? How often do we observe churches bringing care and attention to their methods of transformation in light of their results? Many do not even get so far as to promise transformation at all, much less be held accountable to that promise.

To many in the church, even raising these questions is outrageous. Too often, a misnamed theology of grace raises its head, which tells us that promising transformation amounts to “works righteousness.” Our transformation is not ours to accomplish, but God’s and God’s alone, and as such can never be achieved, much less guaranteed, by our own efforts. I think Bonhoeffer was correct in naming this a theology of “cheap grace.” Is not this same theology terribly convenient for denying ourselves any accountability to God—and each other? Is it not fatally convenient for forgetting that we are called not just to be believers, but disciples, and that discipleship means metanoia? Yes, it is God who works our transformation, but God does require our full partnership. Unless we recognize that, how can we avoid continuing to live divided lives?

Among many of my young adult generation, the relevance of the church is deeply questioned or, worse, firmly decided in the negative. The survival of many churches today depends upon the changing of that perception, on their becoming agents of transformation. By challenging itself to deliver on the promise of transformation, the church may provoke many—including many young adults—to look in its direction for the change they currently seek elsewhere. Again, I think of my own story. When I enrolled in Life Together, I looked at it as the church’s last chance with me. In college, I’d ceased practicing as a Christian, largely because I was exasperated with the church’s irrelevance. I had been raised Catholic by my Latin American mother. She had brought me up in the faith through the lens of liberation theology, according to which the church was a community called to defend the poor and marginalized, and ultimately to change society. Dorothy Day and Oscar Romero, laid alongside a gentle but decidedly prophetic Jesus, literally peopled my bedtime stories. Yet that church—a relevant and demanding, transformative church—I’d only heard about in stories and had never seen in my own experience until Life Together. My experience of transformational accountability through Life Together’s use of Ganz’s leadership tools began a transition from hopeless frustration to frustrated hope.

Through my work with Life Together, and more recently the Fund for Theological Education, I have discovered I am far from alone in that hope, and perhaps not quite crazy for having it. That hope has deepened as I have begun to learn about the remarkable resources of transformative practices and methods that do exist within the Christian tradition. To continue that learning, and eventually offer it to others, I have returned to study this fall at Harvard Divinity School, and there too I have found young people who share my/our hope. But we are not yet enough. Until far more voices rise up to call the church to accountability, it is hard to imagine how any flesh will be given to our hope. We must all begin again by holding the church, and holding ourselves, accountable to the transformation the Gospel promises.

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Click Here to read Part 1 of this article

Photo (cc) via Flickr user Steve-h

The Church: Accountable to the Transformation it Promises (1 of 2) by Nicholas Hayes

2011-09-19T13:55:09+00:00

A Lesson from AA

In his book, Breathing Under Water, the Franciscan theologian and spiritual writer Richard Rohr deems Alcoholics Anonymous, “America’s most significant and authentic contribution to the history of spirituality.” Rohr’s assessment offers confirmation from a far more experienced observer of something that has been gnawing at me, especially of late: the church has something essential, even vitally necessary, to learn from AA.

Looking at AA, and a number of other twelve-step or focused self-help programs, what strikes me is how clearly and unambiguously they make a promise of transformation. The transformation involved might be overcoming an addiction. It might be becoming a more organized person. It might be “finding one’s voice” and developing into an effective leader, as in Marshall Ganz’s public narrative and organizing training programs. (Ganz’s programs have begun to make an impact within the church and well beyond it. ) Consistently across all of these programs or paths, there is a promise of recognizable transformation. What’s more, it is usually stated and always understood, that the kind of transformation promised begets a deeper transformation and growth of the person. Among those whom I know who have either gone through Alcoholics Anonymous, or intensively trained in Marshall Ganz’s leadership arts curriculum, few would say that they emerged from the experience the same people who entered.

My own experience speaks handily to this. I first encountered Marshall Ganz’s leadership development work two years ago, when I joined Life Together , the Episcopal Service Corps program in Boston. In my second week of orientation, sitting in the cavernous basement of Trinity Church in Copley Square (where Phillips Brooks once held the pulpit), I was introduced to Ganz’s “five leadership arts.” In the midst of this training we, as program interns, were informed that we would each be held accountable for learning them, practicing them, and using them to organize a successful faith-based economic justice campaign over the next eleven months. These skills would transform me into a leader and enable me to succeed in the task, but only if I committed myself completely to the practices and “dived in” again and again.

Further, I learned, the whole process began with learning to tell my own story of why I was called to act for justice in a way that could inspire others. At the time, I didn’t even know I had a story worth telling, and I was terrified of speaking in public. Yet by the end of the second intensive day of training, I had gotten up and delivered my first “public narrative” to eighty people. Over the designated three minutes, my voice, quavering with fear and excitement at the beginning, gradually found an unaccustomed firmness.

That was just the beginning of the steep yet liberating learning curve I faced that following year. My nerdish introverted self, always eager to think about but never to engage in action, then learned to reach out and meet with strangers, form and train “leadership teams,” manage meetings, plan events and campaign strategies, all the while trying to stay grounded in my own voice, call, and story. The promised transformation started to happen; I began to turn into a leader.

Yet the change in me went deeper than all of that. I found I could only maintain my motivation through challenging, discomforting work—and repeated failure—by learning to break out of the prison of self-consciousness and cling instead to the part of my purpose that was larger than me. So long as it was all about me, the anxiety and embarrassment of risking failure were too overwhelming. What allowed me to persist was a focus on the change in the world that needed to happen, the people I cared about, and ultimately, God’s purpose in all of the work. I believe that for the first time in my life, I stopped living only for myself, because I had to. That was where my transformation became truly personal.

When a community or organization makes a promise of specific transformation it takes on an inescapable accountability. So, reciprocally, does the individual who takes them up on that promise by committing to their practices. In almost all cases, transformation is never smooth, never easy, never fully evident, and never fully predictable—unlike the promises made by countless bad self-help books. Yet always, there is a point at which it can be asked, “are there results?” and the answer is a clear yes or no. If there weren’t, AA wouldn’t still be around. If there weren’t, I wouldn’t be writing this—and I likely wouldn’t still be in the church. Transformation does happen.

Click Here for Part 2 of this article...

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Photo (cc) via Flickr user Lawrence OP

Becoming Playfully Orthodox To Speak “Christian” as a Second Language by Jerome W. Berryman

2011-09-13T18:25:20+00:00

Tom Beaudoin was right in his recent blog. There is something about Christian language in the air!

The “age of the rage for literacy” has arrived at all levels of the Christian conversation. There is also a rush to “describe and denounce religious illiteracy,” but neither advocating for Christian literacy nor decrying illiteracy is very helpful if you can’t describe the next step, so that is what I intend to add to the conversation.

Tom also suggested that “the rage for literacy” may be a symptom of “something new being born that the crisis-discourse wants to suppress.” I think he is right, but we differ about what is being suppressed. My view is that the “crisis” masks the age-old need for fluency instead of literacy and a focus on children instead of youth and adults for native speakers to develop, as with any other language.

“...teach children classical Christian language in a way that fosters playful orthodoxy”

My contribution is to stress the need to teach children classical Christian language in a way that fosters playful orthodoxy. By this I mean that children need to be both deeply grounded in classical Christian communication and at the same time be open to new people, new ideas, and the future.

Teaching Christian language needs to involve the whole circle of the creative process, both the opening and scanning phase as well as the closing and conserving phase. This grounds classical language in the making of existential meaning while it is being learned through play with God and the community of children by means of Christian language. What I mean by “the creative process” may be found in Teaching Godly Play (pp. 136-137), which presents a typology of preferences for aspects of the creative process and in Children and the Theologians (pp.232-244) where the similar structures of love, flow, play, and contemplation is noted, which suggests the central importance of this graceful process for learning and using Christian language.

A major problem for learning Christian language today is that it is so “odd.” Ian T. Ramsey pointed out in his classic Religious Language: An Empirical Placing of Theological Phrases (1957) and made this strangeness explicit by comparing it to the accepted language of everyday and the formal language of science.

Today children spend most of their waking hours in school learning the language and worldview of science and outside of school they are becoming fluent in the language of consumerism. The oddity of Christian language makes it unintelligible and irrelevant to those so deeply engaged in our culture’s language-learning program. For example the basic language functions of scientific knowing and consumerism include addition, multiplication, subtraction and long division. The basic functions of Christian language are sacred story, parables, liturgical action, and contemplative silence. What could be more different?

Children naturally are aware of God’s presence, by whatever name this experience might be called. David Hay’s Something There: The Biology of the Human Spirit (2007) supports this and grew out of work by Alister Hardy (1896-1985), Professor of Zoology at Oxford University from 1946-1961. He founded the Religious Experience Research Unit at Manchester College, Oxford when he retired in 1963 and gave the Gifford Lectures in 1963-1965. His research unit is now called The Alister Hardy Religious Experience Research Centre, and is located at the University of Wales, Lampeter. The experience is there and is part of our evolution. The question is how to integrate Christian language with this experience without distorting or destroying it.

In my own growing up I remember vividly the significance of knowing that there is “something there.” The exact details are sometimes revised over time as with all autobiography, but the God of Power was felt in the numinous and fearful darkness and in the glorious exuberance within and around me in nature, including people. I talked to this God and cried out to the expanding, creative energy embodied in the God of Power about my own life’s limitations. When I was dressed up and introduced to the Church God I learned to be nice and polite in a church-sort-of-way. Gradually, however, I began to speak a kind of Christian language that joined the language of the Church God and the fearful reality of the God of Power to discover that this language was profoundly useful for coping with my existential limits. I was lucky. Most children today have to try to make do with science, rock stars, and video games to cope with their existential limits.

An example might be useful. One Easter Sunday, when I was about five or six, I stood with aunts, uncles, and cousins in the large family garden out behind the barn after church. I had only vaguely listened during church. Now in the garden with family around me, the church across the street, the spring sun warming the brown earth and bits of green pushing up out of the ground into the blue sky --- I realized in a half-verbal way that these two experiences, the God of Power and the Church God, were connected. Without saying this out loud to anyone around me or even to myself I knew what the word “Easter” meant. It was no longer a word defined by a place or other words. “Easter” was a word that drew into itself and yet pointed beyond itself to the power of life’s rebirth.

Gratitude for experiences like this is why I have spent my professional life working on something called Godly Play. It is a way to help children use Christian language to cope with their existential limits while they are learning the art of how to speak it. This learning grasps the language with the body, as in the Montessori tradition of education, so meaning can be grasped with the mind and spirit. Knowing this powerful language is not an end in itself. It is the means to know and be informed by God’s presence beyond, beside, and within.

In the early 1980s I carried on a wonderful correspondence with Edward Robinson, who was then the director of the Religious Experience Research Unit at Manchester College, Oxford. We talked about “speaking Christian.” In those days I was working primarily at The Institute of Religion in the Texas Medical Center in Houston, teaching medical ethics and developing Godly Play as pastoral care in hospitals and Christian education in various parish settings.

We discussed whether Christian language had died or was only sleeping. Edward was discouraged about the death of Christian language, while I was excited about waking it up, because I was working directly with children and had experienced their wonder and curiosity about how the experience of the God of Power fit together with the depths of classical Christian language.

The theory resulting from this clinical work was finally published as Godly Play in 1991. Then came an early version of the method in 1995, followed by the curriculum in the seven volumes of The Complete Guide to Godly Play . In 2009 the method was more adequately described in Teaching Godly Play: How to Mentor the Spiritual Development of Children and the history of theology’s view of children with an evaluation of our present situation was explored in Children and the Theologians.

After working for about fifty years to help children become native speakers of Christian, as a second language, I am still curious why the importance of this isn’t obvious to everyone. This, however, is a long-term approach and we tend to focus on the latest crisis, as Tom suggested. Perhaps, this time the crisis will not be able to suppress the need to help children become native speakers of the Christian language and “playful orthodoxy” will become normal, rather than a mildly interesting oxymoron.

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Jerome W. Berryman is the founder of Godly Play and has wide experience working with children ages 2-18. he has written numerous articles and books an presents lectures and workshops throughout the world. Jerome is Senior Fellow of the Center for the Theology of Childhood. HIs latest book is Children and the Theologians: Clearing the Way for Grace . For more information, go to www.godlyplayfoundation.org.

Photo (cc) via Flickr user jrmyst

Finding Purpose in the Field by Rev. Romal Tune

2011-09-02T13:04:10+00:00

Matthew 13:44 "The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.

Around the age of ten years old I remember adults beginning to ask me an odd question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” As a child living in poverty, to me the answer was a no brainer. “I want to be rich” was always my answer; most of time it was received with laughter. Sadly I think too many young people start out life thinking about what they want to become in life based on what they want have in life. Rarely do we say that we want a life and a career that will allow us to have joy, peace, fulfillment, and balance. We typically think about a career that will allow us to buy things that we hope will give us joy, peace, and fulfillment, and then we later learn these items can't be purchased.

Over the years I’ve learned that there are many adults living the kind of life I once lived. One that follows an educational and career path that, if lucky, will yield the social and monetary results that will buy you the things we define as making up “the good life.” A life driven by the pursuit of things and the public perception of success. And like me, many of these, even with all of their success, still feeling like something is missing, feeling like there is something more they should be doing. For a fleeting moment they may even get a glimpse of what that thing is, the thing I call true purpose, but when they catch a glimpse of it other emotions kick in: fear, doubt, concerns about whether they can really do it. As a result of not having all the answers many suppress the desire to pursue this sense of purpose and continue the life they have been living, because it’s safe.

“We typically think about a career that will allow us to buy things that we hope will give us joy, peace, and fulfillment”

Fifteen years ago I gave up the pursuit of the good life I thought I would find if I became a doctor and chose instead to accept a call to ministry. After I preached my first sermon, the pastor quoted Matthew 13:44 "The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.” He said, Romal, your assignment is to find that field. I had no idea what he was talking about at the time but about a year ago it hit me like a ton of bricks.

For years I spent my life searching for the treasure, using my gift and talents in the pursuit of success. Those things that I thought would lead to the good life but with every accomplished and every goal achieved along the way there was still a since of frustration and feeling unfulfilled. I never thought about finding the field; I was focused on the treasure. It was always there inside of me, waiting to be realized but it was buried beneath selfish ambition and concern about public opinion.

All that changed in September 2010 when I attended the Vocation Care: A Deeper Look event. The reflections, group discussions, questions raised and spending time with people courageous enough to help each other pursue deeper meaning and purpose, changed my life. It gave me the courage to try. To look fear and doubt in the face and refuse to let it keep me from finding and cultivating the field that possessed my treasure.

When I left that conference, I had found my field and decided to start cultivating it until the treasure revealed itself. With the help of friends I started writing the plan for a new organization that would seek to connect churches across the country to implement strategies that will improve the academic performance of under-performing students living in poverty and attending high needs schools. With the help of friends courageous enough to try something new, we created Faith for Change. Faith for Change launched seven months ago and already we are working with churches, children and schools in eight cities.

The Fund for Theological Education is preparing for the Calling Congregations Conference under the theme of Awakening the Courage to C.A.R.E. I'm deeply indebted to FTE for what that VocationCARE event inspired in me.

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Photo (cc) via Flickr user 1D110

If the Gospel Gathers… by Darnell Fennell

2011-08-23T15:33:50+00:00

FTE Fellows attending the FTE and AOP Preaching Camp in August 2011

It has been almost two weeks since I along with 9 other young preachers participated in the FTE and The Academy of Preachers produced preaching camp, yet I still feel the residue of this experience upon me. We stayed up all night writing and sharing sermon ideas, I will never forget the time dedicated to helping shape our preaching skills, from the suggestions of peers and that of our mentors. I enjoyed all the many times of assisting and encouraging us in the art and presentation of preaching.

“If the Gospel gathers, why then is Christianity so divided?”

In the midst of all the tips and lessons on strengthening our preaching, I learned a powerful lesson about the Gospel in which we preach. It was in community with 9 other fellow preachers from various faith traditions, socioeconomic status, race, gender, sexuality, and not to mention theological viewpoints, yet we gathered in love without any strife and we proclaimed the Gospel. I must admit as one who considers himself quite liberal, I often find myself avoiding conservatives because of our differences, but it was at this preaching camp that I saw just how the gospel GATHERS! I am deeply saddened how in today’s society where it is often difficult if not impossible to gather clergy together, unless they share the same denominational affiliations or theological viewpoints. Dr. Dwight Moody is doing a new thing, in the vision of the Academy of Preachers. I am excited to be a part of this much needed new thing, for to allow a diverse make up of preachers to gather and share the unifying Gospel.

As I preacher I find myself in awe by the power of the Gospel that I preach; it has the power to gather us all in our many differences. In a time which Christianity seems to be distinctly divided between the left and the right, I was glad to witness at preaching camp, how the Good News has the drawing power to pull both sides together. I left Atlanta in awe and assured that there is Hope for the future of the Church, for the Gospel we preach has a way of pulling us from our secluded corners to a unified space. We as individuals may separate ourselves from one another but the Gospel has the ability to gather us in a bond of love, when choose not just preach the Gospel but when we embody the Gospel.

The question I raise to myself as a Christian, if the Gospel gathers, why then is Christianity so divided?

Beyond Religious Illiteracy by Tom Beaudoin

2011-08-16T17:54:31+00:00

In pastoral research, we are firmly in the age of the rage for literacy.

The consensus is striking, the baton relayed from one domain of ecclesial expertise to another: from pastoral workers, to seminary and graduate theological school faculty, to some of the most influential sociologists of religion and practical theologians, and finally to young adults and teenagers themselves, the urge to describe and denounce religious illiteracy has become both diatribe and truism in almost any discussion of the practice of faith today in Christian circles.

A whole vocabulary of spiritual insouciance is marshaled to frame common practice and to symbolize the tendency of the larger secularizing American society: teenagers and young adults are said to be “uncatechized,” “poorly discipled,” they constitute a “domestic mission field,” they suffer from any number of deformations of faith-imagination.

In all, they are characterized as “religiously illiterate” and they represent the worst of what Western culture does to faith: make it superficial, relativistic, pragmatic. Lacking seriousness.

“But how might we begin to pay a different kind of theological attention to younger generations?.”

The approaches of popular books that study the faith of teenagers and young adults reinforce each other in this rhetoric, whatever their other confessional or scholarly differences. Studies from theology and social science in Catholic, Protestant, and unaffiliated contexts, as well as various educational initiatives, like (in my Catholic milieu) the recently-approved framework for teaching faith put forward by the US Catholic Bishops for high school teachers, and the recent issuance of the first US Catholic Catechism in over a century – these all agree that there is a crisis of religious illiteracy, and thus we who care about the integrity of pastoral practice are led by this consensus to believe that the crisis really exists.

But it is important to distinguish between a genuine crisis, on the one hand, and an incitement to see things in crisis-mode, on the other. The latter is a kind of “crisis-discourse” that is readily found across the diverse ecclesial and academic conversations mentioned above. This crisis-discourse almost uniformly recommends one specific remedy: that younger generations and their mentors (parents, pastoral workers) learn to “take faith more seriously.” This approach signals a reluctance, and even a refusal, to rethink what Christianity might mean for young people specifically and for future generations more broadly. This pastoral strategy, which too often amounts to a recourse to what we already think we know to be true about the faith, is more or less guaranteed to continue being met with a range of disappointing responses, from mild embrace to the more common response of everyday indifference. (The important exception here will continue to be recent Christian immigrants, although there is little evidence that the “Americanization” of immigrants over a few generations does much to mitigate affiliation-slippage among mainline Christians.)

Why is it that so very little of this crisis-discourse in the United States takes younger generations to be theologically interesting, much less exciting? One searches nearly in vain in this crisis-discourse for the voice of a modern-day Saint Benedict of Nursia, who included in his Rule the famous dictum that “The Lord often reveals what is better to the younger.”

But how might we begin to pay a different kind of theological attention to younger generations? Here are some axioms for a counter-narrative:

What we call “religious” traditions are historical phenomena; they have birth dates and expiration dates. They change, often deeply, over time
The “secular” lives of younger generations are the grounds out of which any theology about their lives ought to be done: relationships, media, sexuality, and more.
The faith of younger generations should never be treated in a way that we would not allow our own faith to be spoken of by others.
The religion(s) of younger generations not only are possibly new “Christianities,” but new syncretisms of Christianity with other traditions and cultures. Christianity has never not been “Christianities,” and pastorally sensitive theologians have a duty to search out and critically welcome such new formations.

The striking generality of the crisis-discourse seems to testify to something new being born that the crisis-discourse wants to suppress. Hopefully funding organizations and theological guilds will see their way to an alternative theological paradigm, and in this way finally make the church and theology have something relevant to say to the larger culture once again.

Tom Beaudoin, New York City

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Tom Beaudoin is Associate Professor in the Graduate School of Religion at Fordham University, New York City. He is the author of Witness to Dispossession: The Vocation of a Postmodern Theologian and Virtual Faith: The Irreverent Spiritual Quest of Generation X. Tom also blogs for America Magazine and for his own blog, ROCK AND THEOLOGY.

Photo (cc) via Flickr user elfonse

We are Not Walking Alone by David Telfort

2011-08-12T12:49:09+00:00

As we made our way from the small chapel where we gathered that morning for worship we all were still in shock. We laughed, snapped photographs, and walked slowly towards Brooks Lodge but in the air was both excitement and uncertainty. The morning had been replete with powerful, convicting preaching; something we had all experienced all week but this time was different. This time we were leaving Simpsonwood’s grounds, boarding planes, driving back home and leaving the FTE preaching camp. We hugged each other with clasps that meant more than see you later. These embraces signaled to each of us how much it meant to have met each other. They demonstrated that with each story told, each sermon preached, and every laugh that emanated from our souls; we were encouraging each other in our calls to ministry.

One of the very first lessons I learned working with churches is how lonely a road ministry can be. Being set apart by God to serve His people is an inspiring but scary responsibility. To meet young people who understand that, share those sentiments and agree to join you in the growing process has been invaluable. Dr. Dwight Moody and Wyndee Holbrook of the Academy of Young Preachers,, and the FTE staff did a great job of creating a space where learning and development could take place both as preachers and as the people who have been called to preach. Coaches Mark Jefferson, Martha Simmons, and Mandy Sloan Flemming guided us through preparation for four sermons and helped us dissect and learn from watching ourselves preach on film; something many of us had never done before. Hearing each other’s path to the ministry, our preaching passions, and opening up about our fears and hopes allowed us to see the men and women behind the pulpit.

Now, the shock is gone. The late nights and early mornings have passed as we now head back to our colleges, seminaries, grad programs, jobs, and churches. As one of the preachers D. Darnell Fennell preached, our job is now to move “Beyond an 8 Minute Sermon”. To take such an amazing experience and build on it. Stay friends, preaching partners, and young people committed to serving Christ and His Church. What we have been given is a gift from God. A gift that will help us through the storms of uncertainty and doubt that will surely come. This gift will serve as a reminder that we are not alone in our walks, a reminder that as hard as this path may be it’s the only way.

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Photo (cc) via Flickr user Nick / KC7CBF

The Tension of God’s Dance Floor by Kristina Heise

2011-08-03T19:39:16+00:00

This week, thanks to the unimaginable generosity of the Fund for Theological Education, I am in Atlanta, GA, at a preaching camp hosted by the Academy of Preachers.

I am two days into a five-day camp, and my mind has been kneaded and sculpted so much in these short hours that I feel my brain must resemble a beloved can of Play-dough. The kneading is a result of love and affection, and it is with the endless possibility of my new intellectual “toys” that I have begun to discover something I can hardly believe I didn’t notice before.

There is no escaping tension.

Entering a group of ecumenical preachers for the second time in a few short months, I thought for sure that I would be struck by the boundaries that separate one Christian denomination from another. While the differences and traditions are ranging far beyond anything I could have imagined, I find that the humbling yet exhilarating truth of Christ far outweighs any doctrinal styles that we may have.

I am further encouraged to know that the stumbling blocks of my ministry also translate across denominational lines. Tonight I had the great privilege of hearing my camp coach preach. Rev. Mark Jefferson shared that despite having a Master of Divinity and working on a doctoral degree in Homeltics, he struggles with understanding the full magnitude of his call. He further grapples with how to explain the professional components of his call to the world.

“There is no escaping tension.”

Rev. Jefferson’s words truly resonated with me. He mentioned that in today’s world of doctors, lawyers, and business professionals, there is a social sense of weakness when trying to articulate the mystical, inexplicable components of being called to preach.

I was reminded of when I first began my discernment and I realized what it truly would mean to “carry the cross of Christ.” I had a friend for several years who appeared to have a rather one-centered upbringing in her family in regards to building relationships with the church. I knew that her experience had been extremely negative, and for the first few years of our relationship, we danced around each other when topics of faith arose. She knew I was a person of faith, but since my beliefs lived solely in my heart and not a church, there was no need for us to focus our conversations on it. As my work life transitioned from libraries to churches and as my calling became such a bright force that I had to share it, I noticed that our conversations became increasingly more disjointed.

Soon we not only danced around the issues of faith, but appeared to be on completely different dance floors. One night, I mentioned that I missed her, and was greeted with the response, “If you want to see me, you need to bring down the church talk.” The tone of that sentence created such a tension in my heart that I soon walked away. This friend, angered that I had crossed the difference and addressed our separation, wrote me a letter in which she closed, “it as if you looked at the successful careers of your friends and settled on the first thing that wouldn’t tell you no.”

Those words carry the key of my strength today. While they cause a part of my soul to ache, I will not throw that letter away. That tension, that horrible realization of what it means to truly carry the cross of Christ, is something that I return to. I especially return when I worry about my ability to be a good minister, to connect to people through my preaching, and fear losing my humility in the prospect of personal goals.

I am intentional about remembering those painful words and the grief of that relationship because they ground me in knowing that I did not settle by choosing a life of ministry, but rather have been lifted up in spirit and given the gift of seeing my true self. In truth, it was a struggle to find my life’s place. Before recognizing God’s recognition of me, I was lost and haunted. I was less than my true self, less than my God-centered self. Once I finally found my place, I became a transformed being. But that change was not an easy cop-out, an escape from the expectation of hard work or challenging intellect.

Rev. Jefferson gave me a gift tonight for affirming that the cross we carry in ministry can be a hard one to bear. That gift of his message continued to grow, as preacher after preacher shared similar stories of discovery and past lives. We are all filled with the tension of trying to explain to the world why we know the inexplicable is the purpose of our careers. Like our denominations, the variations were plentiful, but gospel which reigned true speaks of a righteous tension that is beautifully exhilarating.

This week continues to show me that this is God’s tension. It is the energy of bravery and self discovery, preaching to us in the sanctity of our souls, strengthening us to preach loud enough to reach others dancing on another floor.

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Photo (cc) via Flickr user dixie_law
Check out Kristina's blog: Alive in Grace, where this entry was orginally posted.

Women Clergy Need Girlfriends by Rev. Amanda Riley

2011-07-18T13:32:48+00:00

After completing the Lilly Residency Program at the First Presbyterian Church in Ann Arbor, MI I took a call as an Associate Pastor in a small city in Michigan. Knowing that the adjustment would not be an easy one, and reflecting on what I had learned from my time in the Lily program, I decided that the first thing I needed was colleagues who could also be friends. So, I went in search of colleagues in the hopes of also finding friends. Knowing I would have a colleague in my Head of Staff, in other clergy in town, and in my governing body, I wanted to seek out colleagues who were in a similar place in ministry—so I sought out young women clergy. In my first few months in my new call I compiled a list of the young women clergy in my denomination in my area, there were about a dozen of us in our first call within a 2 hour drive of each other. At our first meeting we gathered for lunch at a one woman’s home, eight of us arrived. From there we began meeting monthly, while women came and went from our group over that first year, we ended up with a core group of four. Thanks to the Vocational Friendship Grant provided by Lilly we were able to fully fund our lunch meetings for the year, and we even had enough left over to take a retreat.

On our retreat at a cabin in Northern MI, we spent time in prayer, and study, we walked along Lake Michigan, and hiked on the sand dunes. One night following our evening worship, one of my colleagues said, “You know this group has been a life line for me. I don’t know if I would still be in ministry if it weren’t for the friendships we have formed and the collegial support I have from each of you.” As our conversation went on, one of our members suggested that our experiences were not just valuable to our group, but life lessons that could and should be shared. “Let’s write a book,” one member exclaimed; the others smiled and nodded in approval. I was the lone reluctant voice, “I don’t know, a book is a lot of work and we all lead busy and full lives; is this realistic?” After more conversation, and realizing that I was out voted, we covenanted to give it a try—to write a book from the perspective of young clergy women. A book by young clergy women for young clergy women.

Thanks to the Holy Spirit’s movement in a living room in Northern Michigan in the fall of 2008, and despite my uncertainty—our little group of four clergy women turned girlfriends has written a book. And thanks to the Alban Institute our book titled The Girlfriend’s Clergy Companion: Navigating Life in the Parish with Style and Grace is due out this August. While the title of this book includes the word “girlfriends” (as does the title of this article) and our initial goal of producing a work that is “by young clergy for young clergy” we believe that our stories provide guidance, and insight for clergy of all ages, and men and women alike.

Sitting around that living room in Northern Michigan that fall evening nearly three years ago, we thought of young women in ministry in the Biblical narrative, the first who came to mind was of course, Mary. We mused that Mary after having received and answered a call from God to perform a very difficult task—to become pregnant out of wedlock and to deliver and raise a son who would be the savior of her people—went to Elizabeth. Mary’s first move upon accepting the awesome responsibility of a call from God was to go to her cousin, another woman who too was fulfilling God’s will as an expectant mother, who would birth the prophet who would prepare the way for Mary’s son. Mary sought out a woman who was a little further along the journey than her, and from their time together she gained strength for her path. Mary needed strength, hope and wisdom from someone walking a similar road, why would we assume we have to do this alone? In writing this book and sharing our experiences, we offer to be your Elizabeths. Come and visit with us.