No such thing as a perfect fit

He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
    And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
    and to walk humbly with your God.
Micah 6:8

You’ve probably heard it said that medical students spend most of their time in school convinced they’ve contracted whatever heinous malady they’re studying in any given week.  Hives, gangrene, low-T, ectopic pregnancy, decapitation, you name it, every medical student has had it.  I experienced the seminary equivalent of this phenomenon last week.

It all started with a morning spent reading the systematic theology of John Calvin.  By lunchtime, I felt like I had a pretty good handle on “The Five Pillars of Calvinism.”  Now, for those of you who are rusty on your Reformed theology, allow me to present:

The Beginner’s Calvinist Alphabet

T is for Total Depravity.  This is why humans lie, steal, and kill.

Goya. “Y Son Fieres.”

U is for Unconditional Election.   Wherever you land, I’m sure it’s God’s will.

Bouguereau. “A Soul Brought to Heaven.”

L is for Limited Atonement.  Some folks are “in,” which is semi-good news.

Weigel. “Sheep and Goats.”

I is for Irresistible Grace.  When grace is offered, you cannot refuse.

Blake. “The Conversion of Saul.”

P is for Perseverance of Saints.  Once you get saved, you can’t get “un-got.”

“Excellent!”

All this spells TULIP.  Which Presbyterians buy into…and Methodists do not.

THE END

So then, I read Jacob Armininus’ take on the Five Pillars.  He and his fans (including John Wesley) basically pooh-poohed TULIP.*  With mounting horror, I began to sense a game changer surging toward my mid-life career move.

Oh, my God, I thought, staring at TULIP and feeling the ground disintegrate under me.  I’m a Methodist.

Tearfully, I shared this appalling revelation with my spouse, who mildly pointed out that I’d talked about converting to Lutheranism three weeks earlier.

“And two months ago,” he recalled, “you said you wanted to be a mendicant friar.  I can’t wait until you decide to make the Hajj.”  (A reference, no doubt, to the Islam class I’m taking this quarter.)

I’ve heard some preachers say that if you can make it through seminary without becoming an atheist, you’re lucky.  I suspect these people entered seminary believing that the Bible descended fully formed from heaven in modern English, and the discovery that Moses probably didn’t write the entire Pentateuch (including the part about his own death) completely freaked them out.

It’s been a long time since I believed the Bible was the inerrant and unchanging word of God,** so I figured I would be immune to the dismantling of faith that comes with the seminary experience.  Then I discovered comparative theology and realized that Presbyterianism may never be a well-tailored theological fit for me.

Even so, though Methodism’s theological framework seems to fit me better, they’re still battling over whether or not language inclusive of gay men and lesbians has any place in their book of discipline.  Forget questions of ordination or marriage – by some accounts, they’re fifty years away from those conversations.  Which makes me very relieved to have landed, quite by chance (or Design), in the PCUSA, which has been on the cutting edge of Christ-like inclusiveness for decades.***

Okay, so, PCUSA is Calvinist.  And there’s that whole issue of limited atonement and unconditional election.  Frankly, for the time being, I’m content to live with some theological mysteries about the afterlife in order to stick with a denomination that is clear on the value of each human being in this life.

* Actually, in fairness, the Arminians pooh-poohed ULIP.  They were fine with the Total Depravity thing.

** This is not to say that I don’t believe the Bible is the inspired and living word of God.  I do, with all my heart.  That said, I’ve also been known to believe that about “South Park.”

*** Of course, the PCUSA is in a state of profound schism over this very issue, to the point that yet another Presbyterian denomination, ECO, has arisen in protest of the PCUSA’s ordination of gay men and women.  It’s a great tradition, Protestantism.  Ever since Martin Luther pounded his 95 Theses to the Wittenberg door, Protestants have been gleefully telling each other to “take this church and shove it.”

© Marian the Seminarian, 2012

Big week, little blog

I feel like I won the Israelite lotto!  Except instead of scoring an eternal covenant with Yahweh, the land of Canaan, and a truckload of dietary restrictions, I’ve been a) admitted to seminary,¹ b) taken “under care” by the Presbytery,² and c) granted some sweet financial aid to stave off destitution for at least another six months. ³

So, now that my anxiety is temporarily assuaged, I have found it impossible to come up with an insightful or even mildly interesting blog post this week.  I’ve got a great idea for Thanksgiving and a couple more for Advent, but nothing for this week, which strikes me as positively pitiful considering what a great week it’s been.  I did give momentary consideration to discussing the spiritual significance of the Occupy movement, but decided that comingling religion and politics in this blog is too treacherous, even for me. 

Then I remembered the ancient wisdom spoken by Ten Bears in that classic documentary, Dances with Wolves:

“When one can think of nothing to say, it is a time to be silent.”

The most beautiful justification ever spoken by man for sitting calmly atop the writer’s block.

So, I’m copping out at less than 400 words and no particular message today, except to say thanks. 

¹ Obviously, no one on the admissions committee knows about this blog.  Or, significantly less likely, everyone on the admissions committee knows about this blog and finds it theologically astute, intellectually stimulating, morally thought-provoking, and milk-spewing-out-your-nose hilarious. 

² This is basically the PCUSA’s way of saying, “We’ll not only support your bid to become a minister when you grow up, but we’ll do everything in our power to ensure that you succeed,” but “under care” is a WAY funnier way of saying it.  More on being “under care” in subsequent blogs.

³ A big shout out of enormous thanks for Sem1’s generous financial aid, a delightful token of welcome from the Presbytery, and a scholarship from one of the local Presbyterian churches.  Everyone will be getting REALLY nice thank you cards from me asap.  (My mom reads this blog, so I want to assure her that my social niceties ARE intact.)

© Marian the Seminarian, 2011

Still waiting…

The anticipation is killing me.

For the last three weeks, I’ve essentially done nothing.  Because painting the bedroom yellow and making five cross-stitch bookmarks definitely don’t garner productivity points.

The reason I’ve done nothing for the last three weeks is because any minute now, something is going to happen that will set in motion, at the very least, several months’ worth of effort.  What we’re waiting for here is word from Seminary #1 about my admissions status.

Awash in overconfidence, I only applied to one seminary this year.  If Seminary #1 rejects me, I have to hit the pavement to find a job to tide me over until next fall – assuming one of the “also ran” seminaries will have me.  If Seminary #1 accepts me, I have to haul ass to get the painting in our house done before graduate school eats up every last ounce of motivation for the next three years.

So…waiting.  I decided to take this as an opportunity for spiritual maturation.  And what “spiritual maturation” means, apparently, is eating a lot of leftover Halloween candy and not getting out of my pajamas for days on end. 

This morning, I decided to take the high road.  I took a shower before 4:30 in the afternoon.  I wore real clothes.  I ate real food for breakfast.  And I sat in my little sacred space on the landing in our living room and considered the comfort and provisions of God.

Okay, a spiritually mature set of considerations – just for argument’s sake – would look something like this:

• Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.  And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.  (Matthew 10:29-31)
• In a desert land he found him, in a barren and howling waste.  He shielded him and cared for him; he guarded him as the apple of his eye, like an eagle that stirs up its nest and hovers over its young, that spreads its wings to catch them and carries them aloft.  (Deuteronomy 32:10-11)
• Never again will they hunger; never again will they thirst.  The sun will not beat down on them, nor any scorching heat.  For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd; he will lead them to springs of living water.  And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes. (Revelation 7:16-17)
• Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil for thou art with me.  (Psalm 23:4)

Yes, well.   MY considerations were significantly less God-focused and way more moi-focused.  Case in point.  This morning, I began with comforting rationalizations.  Of COURSE, they’ll pick me.  I have a 4.0 GPA from three different universities.  My resume is brilliant and my references are sterling.  I’ve already written TWO books, for cripes sake!  Of COURSE, they’ll pick me.  Confident in the groundwork I’ve laid, I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.

Except I did keep worrying.  So I opted for a little backup planning.  Ditched the sacred space and got online where I began looking into other seminaries.  Ah!  There’s one that looks promising.  Local, ecumenical, and I’d only have to live out of state for a YEAR.  Great, okay, so, Plan B’s in place and there’s nothing to worry about.

It’s just that…that didn’t make me feel better.  Alright then, how about some hard bargaining?  I’ll go anywhere, God, I’ll do anything, just PLEASE let me get into Seminary #1!  There, now I’ve shown God that I can be reasonable and there’s nothing to worry about.

About this time, I descended into idolatry and hit the Halloween candy face first.

Later today, I noticed the moon coming up in the east.  A lovely waxing gibbous, about three days away from full I’d say.  Well, my ex-pagan alter ego chimed in cheerfully, “THAT’S why you don’t have an answer yet.  You’ve sown in the Maiden moon and you’ll reap in the Mother.  Ah!  The timing of the Wheel – THAT explains it!  Now there’s nothing to worry about.”

The thing is, there actually MAY be nothing to worry about.  And, after all, Jesus said that worrying about anything won’t add a cubit to my span, whatever the hell that means.  So why am I sweating this so much?

I think it’s because it’s so damned easy to turn to my idols for comfort – achievement, plans, good intentions, and worldly knowledge.  But these idols are cold comfort.  What are past achievements when the future’s what you’re afraid of?  What good are plans if you don’t know what you’re planning for?  The road to hell has always been paved with good intentions and the wisdom of the world is foolishness to God. 

On the high road to ministry and I’m defaulting to Butterfinger and Snickers.  Ooh, look.  There’s a Tootsie Roll.  There’s nothing to worry about.

© Marian the Seminarian, 2011