Content warning: this blog post discusses the ongoing epidemic of gun violence in America.
Hosanna… I grew up in Eastern Pennsylvania and have been around guns my entire life. When I was younger I knew where the rifles were in my great-grandparents’ house, in my grandparents’ house and then when my step-dad moved in with us, in my own house…It was not out of the ordinary for me to see a gun daily. I own a gun. I’m a decent shot. Even though I’m right handed, I am left eye dominant making it hard for me to fire a rifle on my right side. If I went to visit my family right now and someone suggested we go to the outdoor range, I would probably go with them. I say all of this to give some background that I am not unfamiliar with firearms or unknowledgeable about them. But, Lord, have I come to hate them. I hate the power they possess, both in their ability to take a life and in the hold they have over so many elected officials. I am also the granddaughter, daughter, and spouse of public school teachers. My grandfather has been retired for some time and recently my mom took a job that moved her from a classroom to the district’s administration building. The relief I feel daily that she is no longer in the classroom is palpable. My spouse, Vinny, however, is still in his classroom every day of the week. Every afternoon that he gets home I’m thankful. His school has had lock-downs and threats, and thankfully they have not materialized, but that doesn’t mean they won’t at some point. Vinny is a Band Director and his classroom is on the ground floor, right next to an outside door; this door could be a way to safety or an entrance for someone with malicious intent. He has storage closets in his room big enough to hopefully hold his classes of 40+ students…but would that be enough? Recently when I visited his school I noticed a wooden covering for the window on his door. I thought he was just being introverted during his lunch breaks, before he solemnly explained to me that each classroom had one in case someone came into the school with a gun. This country has given into the idolatry of firearms at the cost of our citizens of all ages. I vividly remember seeing an image of a woman after the Parkland, Florida shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High in 2018, who had an ashen cross on her forehead. It was Ash Wednesday when the gunman opened fire in the high school, killing 17 people and injuring another 17. The sign of remembering your mortality etched on the face of someone who had just been affected by a school shooting…it feels almost too ironic, too miserable, too devastating. Similarly, last week in Nashville, a person opened fire on an elementary school. A private Christian school, that I’m sure was preparing for Palm Sunday, Holy Week, and Easter. This tragedy in the shadow of Palm Sunday strikes me as equally ironic, miserable, and devastating. Somehow the word “hosanna” has lost its meaning. I grew up in the church and yet it wasn’t until I was in seminary in my early thirties that I learned the translation of hosanna in Hebrew is “save us, please.” All my life I thought that this was an exultation “blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” When in reality it was a plea. “Save us, Son of David!” The people of Jerusalem who are shouting hosanna at Jesus, are not merely rejoicing in his presence, but they are asking for help. They are protesting the powers that be, the Roman Empire, with a plea for help. A plea for salvation. A plea for change. Hosanna! Save us! Two weeks ago we heard the story about Jesus weeping over his friend Lazarus. I can’t help but imagine Jesus weeping over slaughtered children; children who should be safe and carefree and curious and silly. But when is the last time children could truly feel that way in school? Decades? How could they feel that way when they are practicing what to do during an active shooting? How could they feel that way when it is becoming increasingly harder to say “if” rather than “when” another school shooting will occur? Hosanna! We are now in the thick of Holy Week, the shouts of Hosanna are about to give way to the shouts of crucify him! This week where hope seems hard and even though we know what the end will look like - lilies, empty tombs, women’s proclamations, victory over death - we are still in the midst of this anger, grief, confusion. Theologian Frederick Buechner, when writing about Good Friday said “the worst thing is not the last thing…” I must cling to the idea that something will change, something will give, because we cannot keep living in a world, in a country, where schools, movie theaters, gas stations, synagogues, churches, mosques, street fairs, homes, concerts, hospitals are not safe because of guns. I must cling to the sure and certain hope of the resurrection. These things that seem like the absolute worst - images of slain children, images of children walking hand-in-hand surrounded by people in kevlar, images of weeping parents, images of the brokenness of the world cannot be the last thing. Hosanna, Lord, save us. Please. Hosanna, Lord, empower us. Empower us to speak truth to power. Empower us to demand action. Empower us to know that this is not normal. Empower us to believe in your love so much that we lay down our arms, and melt our weapons into gardening tools. Hosanna. __________________________________________________________________________ Resources for Action:
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I am in a liminal space.
Liminal space…that time between what was and what is to come…that time when things feel suspended, clinging to what we know while simultaneously being ready and impatient for what waits for us. As I sit and type this, likely rambling mess of a life update, I have submitted all of my seminary work (the papers, presentations, translations, etc.) and only have one more class to attend. Tomorrow evening my spouse, Vinny, and I will be on a plane enroute for the Midwest to celebrate a weekend of graduation festivities at Wartburg Theological Seminary. On Sunday, I become a seminary graduate and on Monday the journey continues…In June the beloved saints of King of Kings will hold a congregational call vote for me to become their Deacon of Congregational Ministries. And the journey continues… Whenever I find myself in a liminal space, I can’t help but become introspective. I think about all the things that have happened to bring me to the place that I am. It still doesn’t feel real to me that I’m at the end of this beautiful seminary journey. It was tough, it was exhausting, it was holy, and it was so, so good. I find myself thinking about where I was in the May of 2019. I knew that I would be starting seminary in the fall, but I was still working my corporate job. I didn’t know how I would be able to balance everything. I didn’t know how I would be able to complete my summer clinical pastoral education (CPE) in the coming years. I didn’t know how I would be able to work (because an income is important) and complete an internship. I just didn’t know how I would get it all done, but I knew that if I didn’t at least try I would regret it. My call to Diaconal Ministry was, and is, that strong. In June of 2019 I was able to start seeing things more clearly with the conversations that led to an eventual job offer from the beloved saints at King of Kings. By July of 2019 I had quit my corporate job and things became clearer and clearer. I don’t say this to make it sound easy because it wasn’t. It was really hard and there were plenty of times when I had to question what I was doing. I’m sure there are still those that question it. But I say this to encourage those of you who are reading this that things are going to feel hard, things are going to feel down-right miserable and there are days when it feels like it will never be sunny again. Beloved, the sun rises. Morning by morning there are new mercies waiting for us. God, who adores us, is with us in these struggles. Jesus, who died for us, knows the fullness of human emotions. The Holy Spirit, who advocates for us, goes with us. During my time in seminary, I have been blessed with some of the best people to surround me. From my professors to my colleagues who have become some of my best friends, to my supervisor and mentor, Pastor Lynn, to my best thing, Vinny, and all my family and friends. The support I’ve had, helped me get to this point; I couldn’t be more appreciative, and I don’t know how to fully express what it means to me. I want to remember this feeling and savor it. I know that this weekend will go by entirely too quickly and before I know it this will all be part of my journey. I know that the reality of this will hit me, probably in September when I’m not flying to Dubuque to start a new semester…but until then, I pray that spend time each day soaking in this gratitude and using it to be the best I can be. Be safe & well, beloveds; may the Lord’s face shine upon you & be gracious to you! My mom told me I haven't updated my blog in a while...so here's an update for y'all...
How's internship going? Good! I'm already working on my mid-term evaluations as August will be my half-way point! I can't believe how quickly it's going but I am so thankful to be on this journey. Since April I've been working on the programming for the next year at King of Kings for youth, family, and some adult ministries. We've had a successful Confirmation Retreat, Vacation Bible School where we partnered with the fabulous Caroline Furnace Lutheran Camp and Retreat Center, LYO service days and lots of campfires. We are still figuring out what it looks like to be able to safely gathering together with the support of our ever-flexible and adaptable members. Coming up we will be having a book study on One Coin Found by Rev. Emmy Kegler as we begin our discernment towards becoming a Reconciling in Christ congregation. We are also starting to look forward to the National Youth Gathering in Minneapolis in July 2022. Lots of exciting things are happening in the next year! How's Seminary going? Well, I'm currently on summer break and only have my internship to focus on, so all things considered everything's good! I'm excited and ready to start my final year at Wartburg in September. I'll be in Iowa the week of Labor Day to kick-off the semester. My internship will officially end in December, I'll sit for my approval interview with my Synod Candidacy Committee in March, and, good Lord willing and the creek don't rise, will graduate in May. My hope and prayer is that a call will be extended at King of Kings to be able to continue my ministries there! But for now, one step at a time and I'll be enjoying my last month of summer break. What are you doing in your free time? Watching the Olympics 24/7...no really. I absolutely adore the Olympics and look forward to them every four (or five - thanks, COVID) years. Did you see the amazing sports(wo)manship after South Africa's Tatjana Schoenmaker broke the world record and won gold in the 200 breaststroke?! So inspiring! I've also rekindled my love of exercise over the last 6 months! This month I started lifting weights again and throwing discus... I lettered in track and field all four years of High School competing, primarily, in shot put and discus. It's been a great stress reliever for me and I'm hoping to start competing again once I train a bit more. How are you doing in general? I'm not going to lie, beloveds, July was a tough month for me; there was a lot of stresses and anxieties that crept up. However, I am thankful for medication, therapists, and above all access to both of those things that continually help me take care of myself. I have grown so much in the past two years, almost to the point of having to rebuild my mental health (perhaps, that's a blog post for another day), that I am in such a better place to take better care of myself. What that looks like differs from day-to-day; sometimes that means speaking up for myself or knowing what coping mechanisms to use and what triggers to avoid. My family continually grounds me and their unwavering support means the world to me. Surround yourself with good people, y'all. Other thoughts:
Be safe & well, beloveds; may the Lord's face shine upon you & be gracious to you! Until next time... The graphics in the 'Getting to Know...' were created by me to help King of Kings learn more about me, my journey, and Deacons in the ELCA! This is a great way to gain a sense of what my personal theology of proclamation is! I originally handed this in as a final paper for my homiletics (fancy seminary word for preaching) class this past spring semester. The parameters of the assignment were only one page, so if it seems like this is short - it is. But also, if it seems like this is long - it is. I’ve been struggling to write this, because it seems so obvious to me that it’s been difficult to articulate. But I’ll try. The first thing to know is that I never intended to be in a position where I would be preaching the Gospel from a pulpit, and honestly, I’m not sure how often that will happen as a Deacon, but I guess that leads to my first belief that proclamation does not just occur on Sunday mornings dressed in an alb and standing in a pulpit.
I have always had a strong belief that the Gospel can be preached through actions, and while I still believe that, I have come to enjoy the moments where I am blessed to share Jesus’ message through my words. Luther’s understanding of law and gospel, sinner and saint, both-and mentality really speaks to me as someone who is cynical and hopeful all in the same moment. This idea that humans are beautifully made in God’s image and yet we screw up so much is something that resonates within me and I want more people to know about. To know that it’s okay to not be perfect but still know we are beloved. I want my proclamations to be the exact opposite of the harmful messages I’ve heard that espouse bad theology. My theology of proclamation comes from the intersection of the Theology of the Cross and Black Liberation Theology. As Lutheran Theologians we are able to call something what it is: racism, sexism, homophobia, classism, etc. The understanding of Black Liberation Theology that Jesus is fundamentally for the oppressed people because God entered humanity as an oppressed person means that I am required to call things out that hurt our siblings in Christ, while speaking about an all-inclusive God. This is not always what people want to hear, but I believe it’s what they need to hear. I hope that through the work of the Holy Spirit the injustices of the communities I serve might be alleviated – if only slightly – by the systemic evils of the world. |