Category: Seminary

Two saints, risen from the Grave; Meetin’ Jesus and opening a Mcdonalds’

For my New Testament class, I was asked to do a “creative” exegetical paper. I’m not really a fan of “creative” assignments but I gave it a shot. During the rest of this week, I will be posting parts of my project to this blog: a web-comic description of Matthew 25:31-46. I’ll leave the twenty pages of annotations as an exercise for the reader. also, click the images to make them bigger.




Part Two tomorrow.

Sermon Update

Well, that was fun.

The text I received was from 2 Corinthians about Christ, the new creation, and the ministry of reconciliation. My preparation consisted of me reading the text while walking, making sure not to fall down some stairs, and making sure I was well hydrated. I spent twenty minutes scribbling notes on a 5×8 note card that I actually ended up not really using. And, right before I walked across campus to the Chapel, I made sure to visit the little seminarians’ room. My brain, however, wouldn’t stop processing it so, while sitting in the chapel, I kept scribbling, crossing things out, and making my card unreadable. Yet, a few ideas kept popping up in my head that I couldn’t flesh out. My brain kept telling me to a) mention Advent and b) mention the liturgy. The only thing is, while standing up there, I didn’t a) only mention Advent and b) mentioned different parts of the liturgy than I planned. Sometimes, planning is for the birds.

I was the sixth out of seven to preach. We all had different texts but I was worried that I might be “tainted” by watching and taking notes on my fellow students. Luckily that didn’t happen. When I stood up in front of the chapel with my back to the altar, staring straight ahead into the camera and at my fellow classmates, it all just started coming out. I began talking about online communities, the “Brand New Day” meme, moving on to the Advent “revolution” that I keep hearing about (aka spend less, don’t be so consumerist, be more pious), quickly pointed out how that can easily become an excuse to withdraw/attack the wider world (which is exactly the opposite of the incarnation), and tied it all up at the end with some name dropping of JC and the Cross. As the only Lutheran in the class, I’m well aware that I tend to be the only one who says “The Cross” or “Crucified” so I was a little nervous I waited too long to do it. Overall, I think I did okay though I felt like I needed to move my legs more. I used my arms, made eye contacts, and all that. But I found my legs stuck to the ground. It reminded me of when I was a little kid and was afraid to dance. I could get my arms to move but my legs stayed frozen. My legs gotta find the rhythm of the Lord, yo.

Preach with abandon!

A few hours ago, I arrived at GTS. I went to the front desk and picked up an envelope that was left for me. The envelope is your standard Christmas card size. It is teal with a glitter sheen that shines under the incandescent lights of the library. On the back is a gold seal that possibly came from Hallmark. On the front of the envelope, my name is written in black sharpie. Underneath my name is a piece of paper, taped on. The title for that paper is “Instructions for Practice Extemporaneous Homilies.”

In between my Biblical Greek class and my Preaching Small Group, I will have 30 minutes to read a biblical text and compose a 3-5 minute homily. On the paper, there is a list of steps to take, things to do, and I’ll be allowed one 5×8 note card when I walk onto the floor of the Chapel of the Good Shepherd. Step five is possibly my favorite step in the bunch: “Have fun. Go for broke. Preach with abandon!”

If there ever was a time to preach in tear away pants, today would be it.

I’ll let you all know how it goes.

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*