Hello from the corner of La Malbec,
Time continues to march on, and often seemingly more quickly than expected. Over the past few years, and even more recently, attempting to fathom what it means to be a faithful person has become increasingly difficult. Why? While there are a multitude of reasons, the shift in public piety and the language used by some about faithfulness has taken a significant turn from what I learned growing up. Then my educational journey in seminary or my work on Bonhoeffer seems so out of line with current practice. Perhaps it is more on my mind today because 37 years ago, I was ordained into public ministry in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.
Ordination was a profound day in my life. As I have noted in previous posts, it overwhelmed me. The reality of what is required of a pastor, expected of a pastor, understood about a pastor is not something any seminary class can teach you. In spite of the profoundly capable professors, most who were ordained and lived that reality, there was so much I needed to learn, and some of it, again, much of it was not something I managed nearly as well as I might have, comprehended as thoroughly as I could have. And most of it was not a theological issue, but more of an identity issue. I was speaking with a seminary classmate earlier today, someone for whom I have incredible appreciation and admiration, something who has, at times, taken me to task when I wandered, and someone at whose ordination I was asked to preach. I remember being petrified that I would be standing in front of a bishop and other leaders of the church in the burbs of Chicago.
While I did what I believe can be characterized as extremely well in all areas of my seminary education, including receiving lecture status at graduation to teach Greek or earning a scholarship to the Goethe Institute in Germany, having an incredibly robust CPE experience with Dr. Steve Pohlman, it was not until I was actually in the parish that I understood the significance of the connection between of the 3rd Article of the Apostles Creed and Holy Baptism. It was not until I had spent some months or years in the parish and even after I was back in graduate school working on a PhD that I realized how much I appreciated systematics, earlier believing that I had more affinity toward Biblical Studies or Church History. It is systematics that explains and grounds our daily faith and piety to our hermeneutical understanding of both scripture and sacraments. Looking back and pondering even today, as I write this I am still evolving in my understanding of what occurred when I had hands laid upon me, as I listened to the words of Father Fred, who began his words in my ordination sermon with “Mikey, you’ve come a long way.” He was correct, and while I am sure he knew, he was kind and didn’t follow with, “and you have so far yet to go.” That would have overwhelmed me more than I already was.
The Ordination service uses verbs like inspire (through word and sacrament) teach, serve, and reflect (theologically). Additionally, to serve and be empowered (by the Holy Spirit) so that I might be an active witness to the mystery of God’s love to all people. Maintaining an adherence to the reality of preaching the Word of God and implementing sacraments with integrity was not something I seemingly found difficult, but being a truthful witness to the love of God was not always something I found as easy to do. My human frailties got in the way as I found myself struggling to feel the constant presence of God’s love in my own life, to fathom the complexity of what Luther referred to as the first and second use of the law. To accept the infinite grace of God, something I could intellectually, was not something I could readily accept emotionally, personally. I remember my undergraduate advisor’s statement to me when I was first diagnosed with Crohn’s. I had returned to Dana, having lost substantial weight. He admonished me, both lovingly and sternly. After telling me I looked ill, he said slowly for emphasis, “Michael, your theology of grace works well for everyone, but yourself.” And he was correct. The incredible grace of God is freely given, but all too often we are incapable of accepting it. The difficulty is we believe it to be conditional, based on our worthiness. However, as noted so aptly by my brilliant confessions professor, the late Dr. Gerhard Fôrde, “Confessionally speaking, the answer to the question ‘what must I do to be saved?’ is nothing.” Nothing in my life prepared me for such a gift, and my intellectual understanding was not sufficient enough for me to emotionally manage it. So the vow of being able to witness to the mystery of God’s love could not adequately be fulfilled. More importantly, when I was in my 30s, the time I served as a parish pastor, I had little, or no, knowledge or realization of that lack. How could I inspire others to accept what I could not accept myself? What was it that created such incapacity in me?
Some almost four decades later, I believe there were two reasons. The first was my own overwhelming feeling of being not good enough, but as importantly, perhaps more so was the prison I had created for myself because of a lack of forgiveness. Not forgiveness received but rather given. And in my life those two things were intrinsically connected. It was about my mother. It was my feeling undesirable, invaluable, and the hurt and anger towards her for having those feelings. Again, how could I preach about or live a life bathed in the grace of God when my hurt and anger separated me from that grace. It would be some 2 1/2 decades later before I would write a blog that forgave my mother. The burden lifted from me is immeasurable. The weight of that hurt, of that separation from a more complete measure of God’s grace probably affected my ministry more than I will ever know. As I consider that day of ordination, as a much older man, I am still humbled by the call bestowed on me of a loving and compassionate God. I think much like Luther’s first celebration of Holy Communion, where stories say he was filled with fear and trembling, I can appreciate even more so now, almost 4 decades later, how God knows us better than we know ourselves. As I find myself traveling to participate in things I have done before, as I spoke with a couple of my clergy colleagues recently, I appreciate the depth and gravity of my ordination today more than ever; I understand it now more than ever too.
Thank you as always for reading.
Michael
thewritingprofessor55 