In Memoriam

Ten years ago today, I was in the seventh grade. I came home from school on the bus, like any other day. I ran down the street excited to finally be out of school, like any other day. However, once I walked inside, there was an obvious feeling of sadness, of something not quite right. That is when I learned that my grandpa was in the hospital. This was very odd, considering he had been in pretty good health for as far back as I could remember. His appendix, which had apparently been perforated unbeknownst to him or anyone else, had ruptured. While the severity of this situation was explained to me, it wasn’t something I could really comprehend. I just knew the doctors would work their magic and Grandpa would be okay. Regardless, I wanted to see him. After begging my parents to take me to see him, we finally settled on a compromise—tomorrow after school.

The next school day seemed like it took an eternity, but I finally made it through and rode the bus back home, just like the day before. But this time, it was different. When I arrived at home, my sister and I were asked to have a seat on the couch, and before they could even begin talking, it was obvious what my parents were about to say. I’m not really sure what all was said in that conversation. All I remember was a lot of crying, a lot of tissues, and a lot of hugging. So many questions went through my head, many relating back to why—why this had to happen so quickly, why I never got a chance to say goodbye….why?

Ten years later, I still think about him almost daily. I still keep his picture on display in whatever room, dorm, apartment I occupy and I always think about the impact he had on me and my life. I think about the memories that we shared together—the card playing, Camp Vevay, holidays, etc. and how Grandpa was always enthusiastic about whatever activities we were sharing in at the moment. There is no doubt in my mind that my strong sense of family was impacted tremendously by him and Grandma.

On this second Sunday of Advent, I think about peace. With many children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, Grandma and Grandpa probably didn’t too often experience peace. However, knowing they are always with me brings me a little bit of peace this and every Christmas season.

Love you, miss you. 

Church

Wow. I’m writing this blog fresh still on my high from chapel today….and yes, I actually did go to chapel today. I’m probably about as surprised as you. Claudio Carvalhaes, who I have had the privilege of learning from this semester in Intro to Worship, was giving his last sermon at LPTS before he moves on after this year and I wanted to go and support him.

The service started out very…traditional: call and response, hymns, prayers, etc. However, as it progressed, it became everything but that, which is what made it so awesome. The essence of his message as I perceived it was this: be willing to try new things, accept new people and experience things outside of what you have always done…push the limits. As he was finished with it, he casually tossed each piece of paper from his sermon on the ground, over his shoulder, anywhere but where one would think it should go.

What happened afterwards was single-handedly the coolest experience I think I’ve ever been involved in. As the praise band started playing and Claudio started singing, the people started dancing! Starting out with clapping and a little body moving, people gradually felt more comfortable and started dancing not only in their pews but in the aisles and on the chancel. People were truly feeling the spirit and letting it move with them, complete with confetti and streamers. As the song ended, we all gathered on the chancel, around the table and shared in communion. We served each other and enjoyed each other’s company—we even said the Words of Institution together. The bread and cup, however, were not the only elements present on the table. It was filled with fruits, veggies, chips, dips—the whole nine yards. And after we finished sharing in the bread and cup, we held hands, prayed, and fellowshipped with one another, sharing in the feast that was on the table before us.  

This experience reminded me of why I came to seminary and what church should be like. It made me wonder, why do we do things the way we do them? Does it really hurt to try something new? To me, church should be exactly what it was today—a celebration of Jesus Christ and all the wonderful things He does for us. Sometimes, I think we get way too caught up in the politics of everything and lose sight of the work that we are really being called to do. I love church, and I love the way we do church. But church, like everything else, can use a little change. While the season of thanksgiving may be over in the eyes of society, I will attempt to continue practicing thanksgiving. So today, I am thankful for people who are not afraid to push the limits and move for change.

If you believe and I believe

And we together pray,

The Holy Spirit must come down

And set God’s people free.

-a hymn from Zimbabwe

The Season of Thanksgiving

A few weeks ago, as some of you know I got an ear infection. While it did cause me quite a bit of pain, it was cleared up in a matter of days. However, because I get ear infections more frequently than probably most infants, I decided it might be a good move to see a specialist. As many of you are probably aware, getting in to see a specialist takes a few weeks. In order to see my doctor back at home, I realized this would require me to miss either a day of class or a day of work.

Sitting in the doctor’s office today, I found myself thinking about the season and plans for next week. Naturally, I found myself finding things for which I am thankful. The stereotypical answers children normally give to this question popped into my head first—friends, family, food, etc. However, the more I thought about it the more I realized that the situation I was currently in was enough for me to be thankful for.

I am fortunate enough to not only be able to receive an education in which I will be able to do something I love, but I also have a job that I really enjoy and that pays higher than minimum wage. I am able to afford not only the things that I need, but also a few “wants” as well. Additionally, having the ability to see a specialist (let alone a regular doctor for basic health needs) is a greater blessing than I ever realized before. Since August, I have met new people and experienced new things that have made me realize how many people don’t have those same basic comforts that I have. After some quick searching on the internet, I found statistics that show that roughly 50.7 million (16.3%) of Americans don’t have health insurance and roughly 1 billion people worldwide cannot afford basic healthcare.

I think it is because of reasons such as this that I find the whole Occupy movement so intriguing. While I don’t consider myself to be very skilled or knowledgeable in the political arena, the poverty and hardships that many people face is absolutely unacceptable. With the gap between the rich and poor growing, I see that there is a sense of urgency in these matters and what I can do personally, I am still trying to figure out. However, I do know this—if you have access to food, clean water, family and friends who love you, basic healthcare, an education, etc. you have plenty to be thankful for this season.

"If living is the price to be free

Then I wish it was the same for everyone."

Elliott Yamin, "Find a Way"

An Eye-Opening Experience

The other day in my Intro to Worship class, we began the day just as any other--through relaxation, song and prayer. Class discussion began with a simple activity in which everyone participated, as normal. But then we were given some strange instructions. "African American students, please take a seat in the front row. White students, take a seat up in the balcony." Shocked by the professor's request, I followed orders. I felt a sense that I knew what the point of this activity would end up being. What I didn't know was how deeply it would affect me.

As we sat in the balcony listening to our professor lecture, I stopped really listening after he said something to the effect of: You all are up there because you are unclean. You aren't worthy of being this close to the spirit--to the word of God.

While those words were not his verbatim, I immediately felt shocked and uncomfortable, almost sick. Understanding the goal of this exercise, I started thinking about the ways in which humanity has been, and still is separated and segregated. And for just a second, I felt some connection with all of those who have been outcast and marginalized. Fortunately for me, I could escape it when the exercise was over and the class was dismissed. Unfortunately, however, I realized how real this whole scenario was for some of my classmates in their everyday lives. It may not be the 1960s anymore, but for some--too many--that hate, segregation and marginalization still lingers.

In our debriefing of this exercise in class, a classmate expressed her discomfort with being placed at the front of the chapel explaining as if she felt she was on display for all of those sitting in the back. She added that she wondered what the people in the back felt but at the same time realized that historically speaking, the people in the front of the church didn't really give much thought to those in the back. Personally, I found myself avoiding looking at the front row at all. This was not at all because I was trying to ignore what was happening, but rather because I felt shame. Shame for the way they have been treated, shame for the way their ancestors were treated and shame that their treatment could have been at the hand of my ancestors. While I realize that I am not personally responsible for all the injustice in the past, I am responsible for the justice of the future, which is what I believe I'm being called to do.

"Be kinder than necessary,

for everyone you meet is fighting

some kind of battle."
-T.H. Thompson and John Watson

Penn State Scandal

Over the past couple days while watching the news, I have been absolutely stunned with many things. Possibly the most disturbing story I have heard in a while was that of Jerry Sandusky who created a charity for at-risk children and used that as a hunting ground to find boys to prey on. However, what I found just as shocking was the reception of the story after the Penn State Board of Trustees revealed their decision to fire President Graham Spanier and head football coach Joe Paterno for their knowledge, and lack of action in regard to this case. Yes, I am aware that he (Joe Paterno) reportedly informed his superiors of the incidents that were taking place. However, I believe that we as humans have an obligation to look out for each other. Especially for those who are unable to look out for themselves. When you have knowledge of something of this magnitude and your superiors don't do anything about it, it is your obligation to take it to the authorities yourself. Maybe him ending a 51 year legacy on this note wasn't the best way to go out, but there are consequences for your actions (or inaction). For those of you who are upset, I say to you this: When athletics become more important than the safety of our children, someone needs to be fired. That is all.