Sounding board

It’s amazing how so many of my new relationships with people now are totally one-sided.

Over the weekend, I went to a friend’s birthday party. I love going to parties at his place because my wife and I are usually the token Christians there. Once people discover that I’m in seminary, the questions come out. “Wait, you can get married?” “Do you have to dress funny all the time?” “When you finally get a job, are you going to actually live in a church?” The questions are great and I love being able to explain some of the nuances of the whackiness that is Christian culture since so many of them have only experience ministers through the tv show 7th Heaven. It also doesn’t hurt to have medical residents and fellows who, when they find out what I’m doing, are impressed. For example, a person training to work in the emergency room thinks that I’m the one who is entering an intense field. It’s a nice ego boost.

One other party goer, after learning that I’m in seminary, decided that they needed some pastoral care. They looked at me, exclaimed”I think you can handle this,” and began to speak. So, in the middle of a loud party, with Mamma Mia on the tv, and the drinks flowing, I sat on a couch with this person and began to listen to their story. It was neat because my wife, who was sitting next to me, got to actually watch me “do my thing.” It wasn’t my advice that was sought but rather merely my presence. I’m a stayer, so I stayed awhile (it was already past my Saturday night bed time – working on Sunday kinda kills my Saturday night) and, all in all, I think it went well.

As I was leaving the party, I debriefed myself and talked to my wife about what happened, what I could have done differently, and gave my frank opinion about the situation. She thought I did a great job at being an active listener and I made the comment that, if this had been a question posted on ask.metafilter.com, I would have been way more frank, opinionated, and maybe even a little harsh. Not that I think my advice would have been wrong but it wouldn’t have been pastoral.

And that got me thinking about how many of the skills I’m learning as a future member of the clergy club go against what would be good advice in the real world, specifically when it comes to relationships. In most relationships, there should be some give and take. You shouldn’t be friends with someone who cares little for your opinion, doesn’t listen to you, and who only focus on themselves. If I wrote a little online blurb about the overall framework for some of the pastoral care relationships that I have had, people would tell me that I need to end those relationships. They would appear non-healthy. Some might think I’m being used. Armchair psychologists would be outraged.

But so few of the relationships I’ve established in pastoral care settings have been mutual. Once I’m placed in the role as a “member of the clergy,” the rules change. It’s probably what therapists and bartenders learn to adapt to after awhile. Every once in awhile, when I think that some self-revelation might be helpful, I’m never surprised when the subject quickly changes back to themselves, ignores what I said, or their eyes start to glaze over while I’m telling my story. From a normal perspective, with people as supposed equals, that wouldn’t be kosher. In fact, that would tick me off. But, so far as a member of the budding clergy, this isn’t abnormal. In fact, this happens all the time. I am Marc and the Sounding Board and, to be honest, I don’t mind.

I’m starting to get why a bunch of the clergy I respect and study don’t reveal much at all. There really isn’t much need to. In fact, it can delay a conversation and not create the level of intimacy that, in other situations, it would. Just by labeling oneself as a budding clergy ends up creating that level of intimacy and trust, if the other person believes that. It’s one of the (freaky) superpowers that the label gives me – and I don’t even have to wear a collar for it to show up. I think, in terms of the game that is clergydom, I am not at level 2. BOOOOOPPPPPPPPP. *POWER-UP*

A seven sermon day

Now, before that title worries you, I didn’t give seven sermons today. Instead, I heard seven sermons (one was a repeat so only six “new to me” sermons) today. With today being the first Sunday of my seminary year, that means that today was also my first Sunday at my field education site. It was great to be back serving the congregation I was at last year. People missed me and were excited to see me. I only talked to a couple of the people I really wanted to but it was great to be back, to be wanted, and to catch up with folks. And I remembered most of their names! After my time at my field ed site, I came home and tried not to fall asleep while studying greek vocabulary words. That was a struggle.

After my study time, I went back to my field site to witness an inter-faith service consisting of roughly ten congregations from a variety of faith traditions. The speaker was an iman from the Upper East Side. The place was packed and I believe there were more yarmulkes in the room than Lutherans. After the imans message (which was short and good), I left early and ran to another service at Holy Trinity Lutheran Church on Central Park West. In a beautiful building, I sat with an audience that was 65% clergy. We listened to bishops, presidents, and former bishops, talking about the founding of Lutheran Disaster Response New York. ELCA Presiding Bishop Mark Hanson spoke as well as former bishop Stephen Bouman and the current Atlantic-Synod President of the LCMS. There was singing, contemporary interpretations of psalms, gospels readings, and four sermons. By the end of it, I was in lala land – I think I was sermoned out.

During those sermons, I found myself drifting. Rather than reflecting back on the events of 9/11 (and where I was), I found myself returning to a visit I had over CPE. I was comforting the family and friends of a man who was dying. The man had become a father figure to a large number of children who lost fathers in the WTC collapse. One of their mothers was in the room and, after some time, I heard the story of how many times they had exhumed and re-interred her husband’s body. Very few remains existed at first but more was found after the first burial. It happened so often that the graveyard director said that if there were any more reports of remains, they should just cremate them and keep them because they’re not going to open that coffin again. After telling me that story, the woman then – half-jokingly – asked me what happens with her husband once the bodily resurrection comes? Does he come back whole? Is he just walking around in pieces? There was a bit of black humor there but I could sense she was hoping for a slight answer and the opportunity to expand on what fears and concerns she had. Luckily I was interrupted by the dying man and I never had to answer her question. I didn’t have an answer for me. It was a question I never really thought about nor cared to ask. It’s possible that too many zombie movies have interfered with my ability to process that kind of resurrection.

Yet, as I sat in the pews tonight, I kept going back to that story. In a sense, it is one of my more recent overt interactions with the events of 9/11. I haven’t been down to the World Trade Center site in awhile. When I saw the structure while in the Village yesterday, I didn’t believe that it was as tall as it is (82 stories so far!). I don’t really think about 9/11 very much anymore. The outcomes of that event – the security shakedown in the US, in subways, the wars and deaths of thousands of people – all have, in away, become background noise to me. I was still in college when 9/11 happened. I’ve lived in a post-9/11 world ever since I moved to New York. 9/11 has always hovered in the air and, in away, is part of the fabric of the New York culture and story. The event happened and has woven itself into the culture of New York. New York has lived on because that is what it does with all new stories – it grows, evolves, changes, and absorbs all that happens to it and in it. In a sense, living in New York is living with 9/11 everyday. Even though I wasn’t in NYC at the time, it’s still in the very air that I breathe. Like the urine smells in the subway station, it’s just part of the New York I know and love.

In all honesty, it felt a tad lonely sitting in the pews during the service tonight and during the reception. I realized, while sitting there, that all the people in the room could imagine a different time because they had lived that different time. Most had suffered personal losses in the attacks. Many had served as chaplains to the first responders in the days following the towers’ collapse. Most of the pastors in that room still counseled people who are still trying to heal from the losses of that day. I felt like I was in the wrong generation for the service tonight (though it didn’t help that the LCMS required the service to be so stripped down and weird that it never felt like a solemn service to me). The people there knew a NYC without 9/11 and I don’t. I’m not sure if the speakers up there understood that (though I think my field education pastor does). But I’m at least glad that the food spread was pretty nice. We can at least join together while munching on spring rolls.

Seminary Round 2

And so, with today being the day after Labor Day, I have begun my second year of seminary. The bell, it tolls for me.

I don’t recall if I ever wrote that I am no longer attending the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. I transfered to the General Theological Seminary of the Episcopal Church (or General for short). There are a few reasons why I transfered and I’ll admit that the fact that it had a longer name than LTSP was one of its draws. But, in all seriousness, I was sick of the commute to Philly and I didn’t want to do it for another two years. My church, my cat, my dog, and (most importantly) my wife were in New York and I wanted to be there too. So to General I shall go.

Last week, I spent my time at orientation. I sat through the usual junk (financial aid, introductions, registrar, yadda yadda). It was less painful than LTSP’s orientation and I enjoyed that it actually seemed like the administration cared about each individual there. That doesn’t mean to say that they’re perfect or that I won’t come to dislike the administration apparatus tomorrow but I like what I saw and felt. And I love the fact that one of our orientation classes consisted of getting familiar with how worship was done at General. That didn’t happen at LTSP.

So I’ve been spending my time getting use to the lingo at General. It’s nice that most of the M.Div students have a title that goes with them (Lutherans don’t) and I’m finding it nice that the school tries to be Lutheran friendly. My advisor is a new professor who is rostered with the ELCA and I keep seeing references in some class syllabi to the ELW. But there are only three full time Lutherans on campus at the moment (which is two more than last year) so it isn’t hard to feel a tad lonely being there.

I’m also considered a commuter student since I’m not living on campus. That means that I don’t have to pay some fees but it also means that, since I’m not on the meal plan, that I’m not allowed to eat lunch in the Refectory with everyone else. And with worship being at 8 in the morning, that’s a pretty good reason why I won’t be at worship either. I find both of these things a tad annoying but, hey, LTSP and General keep their campus-mates much closer to the chest than commuter students and I knew that going in. The President at General kept telling us to be at the refectory and go to chapel to help “be in community” but they sure don’t make it that easy for commuter students who need their beauty sleep.

All in all, I’m finding General to be a nice place. I’m one of the younger folks in the group and I seem to be part of the married majority. The campus has a day care center and babies are all over the place. And if I had a dime for every dog I see on the one block campus, I’d be able to pay off my seminary loans. Babies, dogs, and spouses/partners: you can’t throw a hymnal without hitting all of them.

As much as I’m enjoying the place, I’m also not liking it at the same time. I find the course offerings at General to be a tad unexciting and I have a feeling that I will not be challenged like I was last year. None of the courses really excite me at all. I’m taking New Testament, Greek, and Introduction to Music, Preaching, and two practical pastoral care courses. I have no particular passion towards any of these courses (though, don’t get me wrong, the New Testament is awesome but I’m just not too thrilled with what little of the syllabus for that course I saw). When I realized what my course options were, I know that my first reaction was to feel deflated and I’ve basically been at that point for the entire week. I’m taking courses I need to fill graduation requirements but nothing that really excites me. And the one class I had today didn’t help things since we sat there and watched a movie for 75% of the class period. I could do that at home people.

I have a concern that my seminary year is gonna be very blah. I’m gonna need to not let that interfere with my field education work though. I’m getting a lot more responsibility and I’m excited about that. A great field education experience will more than make up for a blah academic year (I hope).

Hurricane A Go Go

For the last week or so, I was on vacation. I’ll be sharing pictures of my trip soon but I just wanted to write a quick comment about what’s coming up: Hurricane Irene. It seems I missed an earthquake (darn!) but I made it back in time for a hurricane. Hurray!

I actually am not terribly scared of hurricanes. Growing up in landlocked areas, hurricanes were never on my radar. Now, spending my adult life in New York City has made me more concerned with nor’easterns rather than hurricanes. But it seems like there’s a chance that the eye of the storm might head right over my apartment (though the tracking keeps changing – yesterday, it was heading west, now it’s heading east). At Chez Stynxno, we’re working on doing some minor preparations for the hurricane by visiting the grocery store, buying a flashlight, and making sure to get all our necessary internet time in before the storm hits. I don’t think the animals are really aware of what’s happening but I think they’ll be glad to be home when it hits. We’re making a big pot of chili and we’re opening up our home to any of our friends who are in the evacuation zone if the calls goes out to move out. Being in the heights means we’re on the high ground in Manhattan.

Since the storm is hitting on a Sunday, one thing that I’ve thought about is church services. There was some debate at my home congregation about whether to cancel services or not. The decision was to keep the services as scheduled. There are rumors that the MTA will shut down service (or the subway will be flooded) so there’s very little chance that I’ll be making it to church come Sunday but I’ve been thinking about the idea of having church with the knowledge that a storm is barreling down on you. Thanks to satellites, we have days of warning that a storm will hit. As much as I think it’s valuable to break bread with the Lord during the middle of a storm, I also wonder if it makes any sense to have services in the middle of a hurricane. If it is dangerous for the assembly to gather due to natural conditions (and the disruption will only be one day), should the assembly gather? I don’t think I have a theological answer for that at the moment (though I’ll probably come up with one) but I just hope that everyone in NYC takes this storm seriously and if it looks bad, stay inside. The church is an old building undergoing repair – there’s no need to dodge flying tree branches and trash to make it into a leaky building. Stay safe!

Update: My new seminary was scheduled to begin orientation this Sunday but just announced that Sunday programs have been canceled. They’re in an evacuation zone so that’s probably part of the reason. Let’s hope that the subway and the close aren’t too flooded come Monday morning.

CPE IS DONE. A FORK HAS BEEN STUCK.

Today was my graduation day at CPE. I AM FINISHED. My first unit of CPE is now OVER. Woohoo!

I began today like most days – hanging out in the PICU. I wanted to say goodbye to the few patients who seemed to live in the PICu with me. Most were alone as their parents were at work and I did what I usually do – I chatted with them, made some faces, and then said a short prayer. My goodbyes with some of the staff occurred during the week so this was just a few hours for patients. The sun was shinning bright, the medical rounds were already over, and there was a calmness through the whole place that gave me permission to walk around (and jokingly absolve a nurse by telling him to say half-a-dozen Hail Marys). But one thing I wanted to do was say goodbye to that child I met last Thursday.

I looked up her charts and saw that she was going to be discharged this morning. I entered her room and saw her mom and a friend talking to the little baby. The last time I saw the little one, she was waiting to be extubated. Today, she was resting comfortably. She was breathing easily, grabbing at hands like babies will do, and a pink blanket held her tight. She looked like every baby should. I chatted with the mom and she was less nervous than last week. She couldn’t wait to go home. She said thanks again for my being there on Thursday and for all I did for them. The visit was short but sweet and, with that, I found it to be a fitting ending to my first unit of CPE.

With that done, all the summer interns gathered in the chapel for our graduation ceremony. The staff of the department and the residents came to support us. We said words, we sung songs, we received our certificates, and then we finished with hugs and goodbyes. The certificates looked grand (except for the minor typo where they said we had completed Unit II rather than Unit I) and we then went, with our supervisor, out to lunch. It was bittersweet. We chatted and had a good time but I don’t think it has really sunk in that I won’t have to get up tomorrow and go to the hospital; that I won’t see my new friends tomorrow either. We really were a good and joyous group. I’m really gonna miss seeing some of them as often as I have. I’m gonna miss going onto the floors, writing verbatims, and all that. I’m honestly thinking I might do another unit of CPE before I graduate. I never would believe that before I started but I guess that’s how it works. I found out I’m actually good at this. Who would have thought.