Author: MASadmin

One of the big differences between Lutherans and Episcopalians is the whole collar thing. In the Episcopal church, there are rules when someone can wear a collar. For Lutherans, there’s a sense of when a collar is appropriate but, really, if you’re in seminary and on an ordination track, you could wear one. I tend to wear one when I preach or when I visit someone in an official role. For Episcopalians, to wear a collar before you are ordained is just not done. It’s not like wearing white after Labor Day; it would be seen as assuming a role that the church has not given you yet. To do so is improper, ridiculous, threatening, and could get you in trouble.

But once a seminarian is ordained as a deacon (which, I think, is like a priest but with mojo), the rules are off. For some seniors, they are ordained a deacon a few months before they graduate. The idea is that they’ll be ordained a priest six months, or so, down the line. Seniors who are Deacons serve in the chapel in an official capacity (they get to assist at the table). It is not rare for me to see a bunch of seniors wearing their collars all around campus. They’re proud of where they are and I can’t hate on them for wearing it. But it seems that there is still a sense that some wear their collar a tad too much. There is a term on campus for when a seminarian seems to be stuck in their collar. They called it “pastor-bating.”

Yes, it’s crude, but I laughed the first time I heard it. And I usually chuckle when I hear it now. But it took me a day or two to realize that there are two insults buried in this one phrase. I think it’s obvious to get the masturbation reference but the other one is a tad hidden, even for Lutherans. The thing is, these folks aren’t being crudely identified only for their embracement of their status symbols. They’re also be degraded by being called a pastor. For a Lutheran, being a pastor is what we are; to call us otherwise would be weird. But a true Episcopalian M.Div. at GTS isn’t a pastor, they are on their way to be a priest. The word isn’t “priest-bating!” The individual is being degraded by being called a pastor first!

It’s a subtle twist and it shows the power of language. Unless I had thought about it, I would never have picked out the degrading reference to pastor in “pastor-bating. But it’s there and a sign of one of the inherent tensions between Lutherans and Episcopalians in the very language that we use to define ourselves. And even when we do call ourselves by the same term (i.e. Bishop), we still are talking about two different things. Even after the Call to Common Mission, the reality is that our relationship together is a strange one when you look at the nitty gritty. And even in our internal insults, it isn’t hard to see how the other is degraded when we degrade our colleagues. Whether that language will ever change, I don’t know. As long as we’re on this side of the eschaton, we’re going to be jerks to each other. But this has least strengthened my own recognition of the power of language even within the hierarchy of the church. How to fix it..well…I’m not sure yet. But if I figure it out, I’ll make sure to let you know.

Yesterday was the feast day of St. Mark. I hope you all threw a party! If you didn’t, that is okay, but I would send St. Mark at least a belated feast day card, just so he knows you were thinking about him.

At GTS, there is a tendency to move feast days around to either Friday or Tuesday. I’m not sure what the reasons are behind these decisions but I think it has to do with the fact that Tuesday and Friday are our big eucharist days (and when seniors preach). So, this week, we switched St. Mark’s feast day from Wednesday to Tuesday. But right before the evening eucharist, the chapel celebrated evening prayer and, lo and behold, yours truly was the reader scheduled for that day. And it just so happened that the epistle reading for evening prayer, designed to set the stage for St. Mark’s feast day [and the Lutheran reading for St. Mark’s feast day!], was 2 Timothy 4:1-11.

Now, how often do I actually read 2 Timothy? Rarely, to be honest. I tend to stick to the genuine Pauline letters (at the moment) and leave 2 Timothy off by the wayside. But, on Tuesday, I got to stand up and read 2 Timothy. And I’ll admit, I got a kick reading to the five people gathered there, 2 Timothy 4:11 “Get Mar[c] and bring him with you, for he is useful in my ministry.”

Hell yeah I am! With just two weeks to go in this semester, with countless essays to finish (or start), this was a good thing to read. Me and you Paul? We’re tight. We’re tight.

Wherever two or three Lutherans are gathered in my Name, someone will make a bad joke about them.
– A textual variant of Matthew 18:20.

One of the more “interesting” things about being a known Lutheran at an Episcopalian seminary is that whenever I chat with my fellow Lutheran student or professor, someone feels the need to make a comment. The comment is always in jest and it’s always the same. “You’re like a Lutheran Cabal!” they’ll say and we’ll respond “that’s right! We’re plotting and taking over!” Everyone will give a half-chuckle and we’ll move on with our lives. And this happens all the time. Students, faculty, visitors – everyone says it. If anyone wanted to know what the story of my time at General has been, this joke might sum 95% of it up.

The joke usually doesn’t bother me, and I know that it comes from a loving place, but on some days (like today), my eyes can’t roll hard enough when I hear it. It’s not that I want to be left alone (I don’t) or I’m trying to not stand out (I like the attention). No, none of that bothers me. I think what bothers me the most is that it’s a sign of otherness and distance between me and entire community. Part of that is expected and true: I’m not Episcopalian and I have no desire to become one. But I also sometimes wonder if, beneath the joke, that there is an undercurrent of anguish on behalf of some who say it. For most of my classmates, they are not cradle Episcopalians. The majority of them grew up in other traditions. They came to the Episcopal church, and seminary, because the church they were called to gave them life. They love their church! They love their new traditions! They love being part of it all! They want to propel that love into the world and they really do want everyone to have that same feeling of connection, love, and completeness that the Episcopal church (or at least a congregation in it) gave them. And I totally buy that.

But I don’t think everyone realizes that what they feel about being Episcopalian is the exact same thing that I feel about being Lutheran. I sometimes wonder if they feel sorry for me for not being Episcopalian. I don’t blame them for this; I think the same way about them sometimes (because, come on, Lutheran Christianity is awesome). But I wonder if they see my friend and I chatting, imagine we’re talking in some kind of Lutheran code, and they joke with us because they just really don’t get how we can be who we are.

I don’t imagine, in many ways, that this is that much different from the experience that plagues interfaith and ecumenical dialogues all over the world. For those of us that are really into our particular flavor of faith, we should feel that our flavor is the bee’s knees. But that can actually build walls and barriers unintentionally. I think it’s completely normal for that to happen and that it is fine if it does. But I think we should at least understand that it’s happening. If not, then we’re going to keep making the same old jokes, to the same old people, over and over again, and ignore the fact that their eyes have rolled so far, they’re now on the floor and heading out the door.