A Week Ago, Getting Ready for TEEM

A week ago, I was thinking about how I might be feeling in one week, when I was back from travel, back from my first time at a TEEM intensive.  I am feeling the way I hoped I would be feeling.  I am feeling relieved and hopeful--and not too exhausted.

A week ago, I was getting ready to pack.  One of the benefits of driving is that I can overpack.  I ended up with three extra tops and sweaters/overshirts, which was fine with me.  I decided not to bring long pants or skirts; I assumed we'd be in a casual mode, and happily, I was right.  The tops I brought were dressier, so if I had gambled wrong in either direction, I wouldn't have felt too out of place.  Including me, we had 6 females, and none of us wore dresses or skirts; only 3 of us wore shorts, and I was the only one who wore long shorts each day.

Why do these sartorial choices still seem so important?  Because they are, in so many ways.  Why did I spend so much time planning?  Because I was going to be far away from home, and I have the type of body where I can't just go to Target and find clothes that will fit me.

I felt comfortable in my own skin, and that doesn't always happen for me, even at this relatively late age of almost 61 years old.  We were a wide variety of people from a wide variety of backgrounds--that also helped.  It was so different from some of my seminary classes, especially the in person classes that happened during the day, where I was the oldest student and often the only one who had already had a career.

I was the only one with a PhD, but I'm O.K. with that--it's always been my situation in many different phases and parts of my life.  I did try to be conscious of how much I was talking--I wanted to give everyone a chance.  I think I was successful.  Late in the day, one of my fellow students said, "I'm really glad you were part of this week.  You've added a lot to the class discussion."

I was especially grateful for that comment, because earlier in the day, after a discussion of procreative sex (the only kind of male-female sex valued by the ancient world) and the texts that have been read as anti-gay, I said, "Paul thought that we'd all be better off celibate.  I'm not taking relationship advice from any of these people."

It was a good week, and I'm glad I went.  It puts me that much closer to ordination.  But it also gave me new experiences and new friends and some new information about Paul (see this blog post).  As I age, I want to keep doing things that move me out of my comfort zone--nothing crazy, like sky diving, but experiences that keep my brain working in new ways.

Harrowing Drive Home

I feel lucky to be here, writing at the desk that came to me from my grandparents, safe in my mountain home.  It was a harrowing drive home yesterday.

At first it was lovely.  I put gas in the car and was on the road by 7 a.m., which was 45 minutes later than I wanted, but finding a luggage cart and checking out of the hotel took more time than I anticipated.  Still, it's summer, plenty of daylight, so I wasn't too worried (I try to avoid driving in the mountains in the darkest part of the night).  I thought I might even stop along the way, maybe have lunch in Berea, Kentucky, see if I could discover some places where I might support local artisans.

I was in that part of Kentucky by lunch time, but I was in the beginnings of the torrential rain that would leave much of Kentucky flooded.  My phone sounded an emergency alert:  flash flood warning until 1 p.m., do not drive, seek shelter.  The last time my phone alerted me about a flash flood warning, I was driving home from Spartanburg the evening before Hurricane Helene.  I said to myself,  "Flood?  I'm in the mountains!  I'm on an interstate!"  Twenty-four hours later, that part of the interstate was indeed under water.

Yesterday I decided that the safest option was to keep driving.  Mind you, it didn't feel safe:  so much water both on the interstate and falling from the sky, such reduced visibility.  But I knew that if I left the interstate, I might drive to some place less safe.  So I kept going at 45 mph on I 75, thankful that everyone else was driving slowly too.  And I did drive out of the weather.  At my next gas/rest stop, I checked the radar to make sure there weren't additional weather surprises ahead.

Even though I checked, I knew I was traveling through a very unstable weather pattern so I kept going.  As I got close to the Virginia/Tennessee line, the phone wanted to take me on US 70, so I pulled over, just to check before I proceeded.  I wanted to make sure the phone wasn't taking me back to I 40, which I wanted to avoid, if the weather turned bad.  I knew that US 70 would be twisty, but I decided it would get me home faster than other routes.

It was indeed twisty.  A storm had already been through; at one point, I had to stop, wait for oncoming traffic to clear, and then drive around a downed tree.

I pulled into the driveway just before 4, almost weeping in gratitude.  We were expecting heavy weather in Arden, so we unloaded the car, watched a bit of TV, and collapsed into bed.  I made this Facebook post late in the day, and it seems as good a way to end as any other:

"I am safe at home in Arden, having taken many scenic routes on my way back from Indianapolis. Whenever I feel fretful about the state of the nation or our place in the world (either me individually or some collective we), I should take a drive through some part of the Appalachian mountain range to get some perspective."

Kristin in Indianapolis, Paul in Spain

In another hour or so, I'll put the last of my stuff in the car and head back to the mountains of North Carolina.  I've been in Indianapolis, taking a class on Paul, another task done on the path to ordination in the Lutheran church (ELCA, the more progressive expression of Lutheranism in North America).  

It has been a great class, full of deep dives into Greek words and church history and Paul's theology, which can be summarized as Proclaim Christ Crucified.  We even had a fun digression into what we would proclaim--I find it problematic to proclaim Christ Crucified.  Christ incarnate, yes.  Christ risen from the dead, yes.  But crucified?  That's the most important thing?

The cross means something very different for Paul than it does for me.  The cross as a symbol/shortcut does something very different for Paul.  I get that. 

We talked about not knowing how Paul died, not for sure.  Church custom/tradition posits that it's likely that he died in Rome, executed by Emperor Nero.  But it's also possible that he left Rome and continued onward to Spain.

A random thought floated through my brain on Thursday:  that would make a good poem, Paul in Spain, late in life.  By yesterday morning, I decided to jot down some lines, and voila!  A poem emerged, mostly formed.

Here's how it begins:

Paul slices citrus for sangria, 

oranges and lemons plucked

from trees in the lingering light

of a late October evening.

Who would have dreamed or demanded

such a soft landing?

This morning I thought, oh dead, when does citrus ripen in Spain?  I chose "late October evening" because Paul is in the late autumn of his life.  Happily, a quick search this morning shows the detail can work--and even had I discovered that it didn't, I'd have probably kept it.

The poem ends this way:

Safe for now, he pours the sangria

and waits for the sun to set.

I do worry that the poem is cliched, and I also worry that it won't be interesting to non-Christian readers.  But we all age, and this poem looks at aging.  By using Paul as the vehicle, maybe it does say something new.

I'll put it away and look at it again later this week.  But I am happy to have created a poem the way I once did:  an idea comes and within 24 hours, I'm attempting a poem and seeing it to completion.  Hurrah!

Rethinking Paul

Yesterday was our first TEEM class on Paul.  It was riveting.  I'm still not much interested in preaching using Paul's letters, but because Paul has been so influential and so misused, it's good to find out what's really there.

The most interesting way of thinking about Paul that was new to me is to see him as a Jew framed by apocalyptic thinking, the apocalypse being when God comes to earth to judge the living and the dead, an event which will begin with the dead rising up from their graves as they come back to life to be judged.

So when Paul meets Jesus on the Damascus Road, a man who has been dead brought back to life and speaking to him, he assumes that judgment day is under way.  Being a good Pharisee, he would assume that Jews will be O.K. on Judgment Day--as people of the Covenant, God has chosen them.  But Gentiles are in danger.  Thus, off he goes to tell them how to be saved.

I asked the question that some of you might be asking.  Did Paul see a human Jesus on the Damascus Road?  I have always thought of that event as the heavens splitting open and the voice of Jesus speaking to him, not as an encounter with Jesus in his human body.  My professor talked about the different depictions of that event, including recountings of that event that we find in Acts and the letters of Paul.  In some of them, the encounter does sound disembodied, the voice from the heavens.  In others, we could interpret it as an encounter between Paul and a human-appearing Jesus. 

I still maintain my long-standing approach to Paul.  He wrote letters to specific churches/communities with specific problems.  Taking those letters and applying them to twenty-first century life makes very little sense--unless we're experiencing similar problems.  We had an interesting session looking at 1 Corinthians, the passage where Paul excoriates the Church for eating the good food before the whole community arrives and connecting this behavior with Communion.  How do our own Communion practices exclude or include in similar ways?

I still can't see myself preaching on Paul or even having the kind of Bible study that would interest most people.  But I'm very glad to have had this educational opportunity.

A Short TEEM Report

This morning has less blogging time, but I have finished my movie review, the first assignment for my TEEM class on Pauline letters.  I have done the practice quizzes one more time--I've been doing them over and over in the hopes that I'll do well on the quiz that will begin today's class.  

We have another quiz tomorrow, and I haven't done any practice for that one.  So tomorrow may be a light blogging day too, as I practice and practice.  I have not taken a quiz for course credit since undergraduate school.  Of course, I've taken quiz after quiz as part of HR training--those quizzes that you can take over and over again so that you can continue to be employed.

Each quiz counts for 10% of the course grade.  My inner good girl wants to make an A.  My pragmatic older self knows that whatever grade I make will be fine.  I'm not even sure if TEEM classes show up on a transcript.

And then, part of me wonders why I care about my official record.  Am I going to do more graduate work?  Maybe--and that's why I care.

Yesterday's TEEM training was a workshop on stewardship.  When I first heard about the workshop, I felt a bit of despair.  I've already had so much stewardship training.  But it was a great workshop.  We talked about a much broader vision of stewardship:  what do we value?  How do we protect what we value?  It's far more than money, budgets, and a finance team. 

I've been part of small churches, with attendance below 50 members, so these are not concepts that are new to me.  In a very small church, one can't assume that others will pick up the slack, unlike in a church that has over 100 members in the pews on Sunday.

Our workshop leader, Tim Brown, was both compelling and entertaining.  We had worship in the middle of the day, followed by Indian food.  It was good to have that long break.

Let me bring this writing to a close so that I can get some breakfast before the day begins.  Onward!

TEEM Work in Indianapolis

For a woman with a reduced summer schedule, my blogging gets off schedule more than I would have expected--I did not plan not to write for the past 2 days.  On Monday, I did some intense grading and got grades turned in for the online class that ended this week.  Yesterday, I wrote the rough draft of a paper for the class on Paul's letters that I'm taking this week.

Then I hit the road, heading out to Indianapolis.  I am doing part of a week-long intensive as part of the TEEM program that meets there 3 times a year, staying in the Drury hotel and doing classes at the office of the Indiana-Kentucky Synod.  It's part of my ongoing journey to be ordained in the ELCA.  So far, the pre-intensive materials are inspiring, and I have hopes as I shift to a different approach towards ordination.  A side benefit will be learning more about how the TEEM program works.

The trip to Indianapolis takes longer than it did before Hurricane Helene:  part of I 40 is still 2 lanes, one in each direction, for about 20 miles.  There's also a long stretch of I 74 which is under construction and 2 lanes.  Happily traffic kept moving.

Most of the roads I traveled yesterday were surprisingly empty, and in the morning, that made the construction zone across the mountain into Tennessee easier.  I've never liked that stretch of I 40, even before part of it slid down the mountain in the storm.  Shortly after that passage, my phone directed me to take an older highway up to Kentucky, a route which took me through the Cumberland Gap.  The mountains were gorgeous and the roads not too winding or steep.  Even the Cumberland Gap tunnel wasn't as claustrophobic as I feared it might be.

The weather was overcast when I started, and happily, the worst of the rain had moved east.  I still drove through a bit of rain here and there.  I had a front seat with food, baby carrots and 2 kinds of homemade bread, so I didn't need to stop for food.  It does feel weird to be so close to family and old friends who moved and not feel like I have time to stop.

I left my phone on for the whole trip so that it could dictate directions to me; I didn't plug it into my phone's USB port until halfway through the trip.  My car's USB port doesn't charge very well, but it kept the phone from losing charge quite as quickly.  Still, by the end of the trip, I was worried that my phone would die before I got to the hotel, and unlike other trips, I had no idea where I was going, in terms of what exits to take and which roads I needed to find.  Happily I was able to find my way before the phone died.

I got checked into the hotel with no problems, and unloaded the car easily.  I mention the ease of it all because I don't travel light, so I'm always grateful for available luggage carts, especially in a hotel with 9 floors.  My 7th floor room is spacious, bright, and clean, and so far, it's been quiet--all qualities which make me profoundly grateful.

I've met some of my TEEM cohort last night.  The hotel offers a 5:30 Kickback each night, with 3 drinks per adult and a light dinner buffet.  Last night, the buffet included hot dogs, nacho chips and fixings, flour tortillas and fixings (including "fajita chicken"), and a small salad bar, with lettuce, grated cheese, and cherry tomatoes.  The soup was roasted red pepper tomato--delicious.  To think, I had been expecting some cheese and crackers and some Chex mix.

I brought my book on Paul with me to dinner.  I figured if I didn't find the TEEM group, I'd have something to read.  But I did find the director, whom I had met on a Zoom call last week, so I knew what he looked like.  I had dinner with the cohort members who were there, and as I expected, we have a lot in common:  we're serving churches in a variety of contexts, but there's so much more to us than that.  

They've had 2 days together, but they were warm and welcoming, and we lingered over dinner.  Delightful!  I was not awake much later, since it had been a long day.

We have some long days ahead, so let me bring this writing to a close.  Today we have a workshop on stewardship, which is great because I can use another day to catch up on my reading.  I joined the class late, just last week, so I am a bit behind.

Father's Day and the Summer Solstice

Today we have a variety of holidays to celebrate. People who have good relationships with their fathers, or people who have children, may be celebrating Father's Day. Others may be observing the Summer Solstice, in any variety of ways. Some of us will go to church, as we normally do.

I will be preaching, but at this moment, my sermon doesn't mention Father's Day.  The Gospel for today is  Matthew 10: 24-39, the text about Jesus coming to bring not peace, but a sword, to divide families.  So I'm taking a long view of all the summer liberation holidays:  from June 6 to Juneteenth to July 4.  Once I've finished the revisions, I'll give a link to the sermon which I always post on my theology blog.

Because it's Father's Day, my social media feeds will be full of people talking about their fathers.  I do feel lucky to have gotten the father that I did.  The older I get, the more impressed I am with how well he did as a father.  My dad was born in 1937, so again, I'm lucky that my father learned to adapt to the world his daughters were born into, a world with more opportunity for women, while at the same time, not fully liberated.

I think about my own generation, so full of absent fathers and abusive fathers. So many of us experienced divorce done badly, oh so badly, in the 1970's. I was lucky that my own father was different.

In fact, my father seemed more like the fathers we see these days. He could pack our lunches and brush our hair into acceptable ponytails and teach us how to be long-distance runners. He helped us with science fair projects and took the family on camping trips and in general, he was very involved in our lives. I haven't met many other people of my generation who were as lucky.

I'm glad that we've become a society of people, at least some of us have, who can be our best parents to children, whether we're fathers, mothers, or part of the village raising the children. We still have a long way to go before our culture is where I'd like us to be in terms of work/family balance. But that's a topic for a different blog post.

Today is also the summer solstice, the official start of summer.  Many of us live in places where summer weather comes early and never leaves.  But even in those places, like South Florida, the light does change.  In the northern hemisphere, we have the most amount of daylight today.  We won't really notice a difference tomorrow.  But by late August, we'll have darkness earlier.  Last night I got up briefly at 9:30 p.m. (after falling asleep at 8 p.m. with the sun yet to fully set) and noticed that we still had that not-dark, bluish twilight.  We won't have that for much longer.

We're at the midpoint of the year and in many ways, the midpoint of summer.  This might be a day when we want to think about our trajectory--are we on track for the year?  Or maybe we want to celebrate nurturing of all sorts.  Maybe it's a good day for self-care.

For me, it's time to turn my attention back to sermon revising.  One of the treats of summer is that I can also get a walk in before it's time to head across the mountain to preach and preside at Faith Lutheran in Bristol, Tennessee.