Graduation Recap

Yesterday at the end of graduation, I said to one of my professors that I didn't think I would have many more experiences that were that meaningful in my remaining years on the earth.  My professor started to protest, and then we looked at each other, and she said, "You're probably right."  A graduation ceremony in the national cathedral, a graduation where we were lifted up and affirmed before being sent out into the world to do the work we're called to do--no, it won't get much better than that.

I knew that my graduation would be livestreamed, and I hoped that it would be available as a recording too.  Hurrah--it is!  You can view it here, and be sure to watch the benediction at the end, at hour 1, minute 58.  It was the most passionate benediction that I've ever seen, and I felt so blessed--not in the "Have a blessed day" kind of blessed, but the "I am casting a spell of protection over you as I give you your marching orders" kind of blessed.

We got to the cathedral in plenty of time, and there were still parking places left in the parking garage.  I took leave of my family to go wait in the Joseph of Arimathea chapel.  We stood in alphabetical order and waited and waited for it to be time to walk to the back of the cathedral.  

It was great to have that downtime before graduation, a chance to chat with my fellow students.  I reconnected with a student who invited me to go to a Carolyn Forche reading with her in the spring of 2023 (I wrote this blog post about it).  We talked about how rewarding it had been to be in classes, instead of learning on our own.  Before I went to seminary, I wondered if I couldn't just accomplish a similar amount of learning if I bought a lot of books and read them.  Perhaps I could have come up with something similar, but I wouldn't have been able to replicate the insights that came from professors and fellow students.

At first my heart fell a bit when I saw the program; it shouldn't come as a surprise when a seminary graduation is more like a worship service.  I was happy that all of the presentations and acceptance speeches and the main speech were so compelling.  More than once I reflected on how grateful I am to have been part of a seminary that is so committed to social justice, to diversity, to acceptance, to being a faithful and powerful witness in the heart of the nation's capital.

Soon it was time to get our diplomas.  We went to wait our turn, and then, suddenly, there's my name being called, and I made my way across the platform.  We got our actual diplomas, and I was happy that my name was correct--no reason that it shouldn't be, but it's more common that some part of my name is misspelled than that various entities get it right.

We got our fiery benediction, and off we went, out into the cloudy afternoon.  I was grateful that the rain held off, grateful that I was able to find my family, and so, so grateful that I was in a space where I could be fully present.  I didn't have a boss who told me that I couldn't go or who said that I needed to check in.  All of my jobs have been at a stopping point, a serendipity that I couldn't have engineered any more perfectly.

We ate dinner at Millie's, which had a synchronicity that delighted me.  During my first walk as a seminary resident, I discovered Millie's and came back for an ice cream--that became my occasional treat.  My sister and I ate there a few times.  The first time I had the steak salad, it was amazing.  It hasn't been that wonderful since, but I was happy to have it one last time with my family:  salads and wine and a dessert that a fellow student had sent to us.  What an expansive generosity yesterday we experienced yesterday!

At the end of the day, my spouse gave me a gift that he picked out at the cathedral gift shop:  beautiful blue prayer beads on a bracelet, with a charm that contains a small bit of paper with a Bible verse that reminds me not to worry.  I think of how many worries I've had about seminary:  could I do the work, would I have enough internet bandwidth, could I maintain all the kinds of balance I want to maintain?

I am glad to have the answers to those questions.

I am happy to have this diploma, this degree completed.

Graduation Morning

It is graduation morning, a day which may have seemed improbable years ago, before Covid, before seminaries started experimenting with distance learning, before higher education began its long and then sudden decline, before, before, before.

I have earned an MDiv from Wesley Theological Seminary, and later today, I'll participate in the graduation ceremony that happens in the National Cathedral.  It starts at 2, and you could watch from a distance by way of this livestream link:  https://youtube.com/live/hAGLcoosBYo?feature=share

I am not sure what to expect, beyond the usual:  lots of folks in caps and gowns, walking across some sort of stage to get a diploma.  I have participated in many graduations, but rarely as the one getting the diploma.

I have sensible shoes, and I'll wear the olive skirt with the pockets, not the black but pocketless skirt that would blend with the gown better.  I am not nervous about the graduation ceremony.  I'm not speaking, after all.  My family will park the car, and I'm hoping we'll be early enough that they can get a space in the parking garage.

Because the Eucharist ceremony was on Thursday, we've spent several days here in the DC area, days with family members, precious time.  Some of us have been in a local hotel, sharing space with lots and lots of soccer players who are in town for various championship games.  This morning, I'm hearing sniffling and sneezing and hoping it's just allergies.  I have avoided airline flights for a variety of reasons, but belatedly, I'm thinking about the risks of crowded hotels.  We haven't lingered in common spaces or crowded spaces, so hopefully we'll be O.K.

I'm thinking about the last time I stayed in this hotel, back in October for the onground intensive week.  At that time, it seemed more populated by business travelers.  I remember feeling so exhausted, not just from the intensive work, but also from the cumulative fatigue that comes from having a natural disaster fall on one's head.

It's good to remember that it hasn't all been easy. I still feel a bit weird, like people are making too much fuss over me.  After all, I've enjoyed my classes and most of the work felt like it came naturally to me.  But as I think about this 4 year journey, I am reminded of all the ways it has taken perseverance.  It's good to celebrate these milestones.

The Perfect French Meal

If you came here hoping for a Mother's Day post, I wrote a somewhat untraditional post for my theology blog--and of course, I've written many a post in the past.  In my younger years, I thought about gender and nurturing more; these days I'm thinking about being a wise female elder.  Am I one already?  If not, what should I be doing to prepare?

This year, I'm thinking about gender and getting older and career shifts or maybe not a shift as much as additions.  I'm having these thoughts because I'm graduating from Wesley Theological Seminary with an MDiv.  And yet, even though I'm graduating, I'm not moving directly to ordination.  Because I went to a Methodist seminary, I have some Lutheran course work to do, along with other requirements.

Still, this graduation feels like a big step to me.  And we've had an extended celebration time.  Unlike most seminaries that have a worship service one day and graduation the next, Wesley has a Eucharist service on Thursday, and then graduation on Monday.

When I realized we'd have so much extra time, we (meaning me, my sister, my spouse, my mom) thought about what might be fun.  We had planned to go to the Museum of African-American History, but that trip was rained out.  Yesterday we went to my mom's favorite French restaurant for lunch--happily, we didn't have to miss that appointment.  We spent a delightful afternoon at L'Auberge Chez Francoise.

I've only been there once before, to celebrate a parental anniversary.  It was great to return.  Yesterday they had one lunch seating, so we didn't feel rushed at all.  We did the 4 course prix fixe meal, which at first seemed expensive, but then I started thinking about how much I often pay for a meal out, and it felt more reasonable.  

We had a noon reservation, and we left at 3--delightful!  I decided to go with the beef tenderloin, a dish that I'm least likely to make at home, a dish that would be similarly expensive if I made it myself.  Before that dish, we had an amuse bouche of split pea soup, the best split pea soup I've ever had.  We had an assortment of appetizers.  

While I enjoyed my coquille of seafood, my spouse's tiny pot of wagu beef cheeks in a mushroom sherry gravy was amazing--like pot roast elevated to gastronomical perfection.  

There were plates of bread and beautiful salads.  I often don't like the ubiquitous mesclun mix, but yesterday's salad was yummy.  Later we found out that they grew the greens on site, which probably explains their yumminess.

Everyone's main course looked fabulous; I'm sure I could have been happy with any of it.  I didn't take as many pictures of later courses--it was great to live in the moment without trying to document it all.  We finished with dessert--also a place where everyone's choice looked delicious.  I have no regrets about yesterday's meal, which is not usual for me with a restaurant meal.

Many people will be eating out today as they celebrate mothers.  I'm glad we chose to go yesterday instead.  Today the restaurant will have 4 seatings instead of 2; something essential will be lost, although the diners probably won't notice.

I am so glad to have had yesterday's experience:  glad to have been able to find a time when we could all go, glad to have been able to afford it, glad that the restaurant survived the various challenges of the past decade.

Prayers of Blessing at a Seminary Eucharist Service

Yesterday was an even more interesting juxtaposition of events than I thought that we would have when I first wrote a blog post in the morning.  In the morning, I learned of the death of Martha Silano.  In a way, it wasn't a surprise.  I knew of her ALS diagnosis, and her latest poems showed how quickly the disease was progressing.  Here is her May 3 Facebook post:  “If I could eat just one sliver of Genoa salami … and maybe a bite of crispy bagel …. I’d give back every poem I’ve ever written.”

Those words have haunted/inspired me in the days since, the idea that we never know when the things we enjoy might become unavailable to us, because of disease or the forces of history or the lack of time or tariffs or any other reason we want to plug in.  I think of all the times when I've been worried about something (weight gain or would I have enough money to pay the bills or would a teaching schedule come through or why did someone wrinkle their face a weird way which might mean that they are annoyed with me) when I should have been cherishing the moment in a different way, a savoring the richness way.

I thought of Martha Silano at lunch.  My mom, dad, spouse, and I had gone up to Fredericksburg, MD, and we ate at The Wine Kitchen.  It was the perfect day to enjoy their patio seating that overlooked the Carroll Creek, which had a vibe that was both commercial and natural; the weather was perfect with a light breeze, and it was shady.  They had a lunch special that included a glass of wine.  I had the glass of wine for many reasons:  because it went so well with the mushroom strudel, because it was a good deal, because it was part of a perfect lunch.  In my head, I made a toast to Martha Silano and all the wise ones who have reminded me that we need to enjoy life as we can, in all the ways that we can.

During the afternoon, we found out that we have a new pope.  There was some time in the afternoon between lunch and leaving for seminary for the Eucharist service, and I did some reading.  Pope Leo seems like an interesting choice (a Chicago native who spent so many years in Peru that he became a naturalized citizen of Peru).

And then we headed down to D.C.  We left early, because one can never be sure about rush hour traffic.  We got there a bit early, but that was good, because I could get the tickets my family will need to get into the graduation ceremony.  There was a moment when the person in charge of tickets looked at the list, and I felt this fear that maybe I wasn't on the list, that maybe there was some requirement I had forgotten.  Happily, that fear was ungrounded.  I got the tickets, and we went to the chapel.

It was wonderful to sit in the chapel, being surrounded by classmates and family members.  I was touched by how many people remembered me from my brief time living on campus; a few people could still call me by name.  The Eucharist service included a blessing of graduates-to-be by individual faculty members.  We waited in a line, and as each person was free, we processed to them.  I felt lucky to be blessed and prayed over by a faculty member whom I liked:  I took both her Ethics class and her Stories of Power class.  Some of the faculty members I didn't know, and I wondered how that prayer would have been--much more generic, I imagine.

My prayer/blessing included mention of me as a Literature professor, as someone who inspires good in the world, as someone who is both confident but with humility.  I found myself wishing I could have recorded it in some way.

But then I thought about how much I have recorded, which often means I'm not truly in the moment.  I tried to concentrate on staying present and tried not to think about how much concentration it takes to stay present with the moment.

There was a reception afterwards, with heavy appetizers, which made our evening meal.  We ended with a glass of wine each back at the hotel, a wonderful end to a wonderful day.

We live in a time where everyone uses the word "blessed" so much that it seems stripped of meaning:  "How are you today?"  "Blessed"--or "Have a blessed day."  But I really do feel blessed, along with the guilt that comes along with that.  Why do I get to enjoy a day like yesterday when a talented poet like Martha Silano does not get a longer time on the earth?  Even theological thinkers have some trouble with that question.

In the end, let me just remember that if we're lucky, we have good days, and the good days aren't a sure thing.  Let me remember to live with intention, to seek out the good days, to arrange my life so that good days are more likely.

Contemplating Julian of Norwich During Graduation Week

Today is the feast day of Julian of Norwich, at least for Lutherans, Episcopalians, and Anglicans; Catholics will celebrate on May 13. Tonight I will go back to my seminary campus for the Eucharist service for students who are graduating with their Masters degrees, and there's a dinner and reception afterward.  How wonderful to be celebrated this way!

And how different from how Julian of Norwich has been celebrated, or ignored, through the centuries.  She was alive from roughly 1343 to 1416, a tumultuous time with the Black Death making its first appearance in England and a revolt of peasants that spread across the country.  She lived in Norwich, which was a center of commerce and a center of religion.  

I've been interested in Julian of Norwich for a long time.  When I first started teaching the British Literature survey class in 1992, the Norton Anthology had just added her to the text used in so many survey classes.  Why had I not heard of her before?  After all, she was the first woman writing in English, at least the first one whose writing we still have.

My students and I found her writing strange, and I found her ideas compelling.  She had a series of visions, which she wrote down, and spent her life elaborating upon. She wrote about Christ as a mother--what a bold move! After all, Christ is the only one of the Trinity with a definite gender. She also stressed God is both mother and father. Here in the 21st century, we're still arguing about gender and Julian of Norwich explodes the gender binary and gives us a vision of God the Mother, God the Wife--and it's not the Virgin Mary, whom she also sees in her visions.

Her visions showed her that God is love and compassion, an important message during the time of the Black Death.  She is probably most famous for this quote, "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well," which she claimed that God said to her. It certainly sounds like the God that I know too.

Although she was a medieval mystic, her work seems fresh and current, even these many centuries later. How many writers can make such a claim?

A few years ago, I read her complete works, which I didn't enjoy as much as I thought I would.  The writing seemed circular, coming back to many ideas again and again, with lots of emphasis on the crucified, bleeding Jesus, lots of focus on suffering and sin. The excerpts that most of us read, if we read her at all, are plenty good enough.  I was both disappointed to discover that, and yet happy.

Not for the first time, I wonder what's been lost to history in terms of writing. If she was thinking about some of these explosive ideas, might others have been even more radical? What happened to them?

I'm grateful that we have her work--at least there's something that gives us a window into the medieval mind, which was more expansive than we usually give credit for.  And I'm grateful that so many people have discovered her in the decades since the Norton Anthology first included her.

I'll keep her in mind today, as I participate in ancient rituals, like Communion, that she, too, celebrated.  I'll keep her in mind as I discern next steps on the path.  My path would seem as strange to her as hers does to me--although I will confess that the cell of an anchoress/anchorite is appealing on some days.  I love the idea of ancient church rites and rituals that connect us across centuries--may they continue!

Getting Ready for Graduation

Part of what I will do during this brief May break is going to various doctors.  Nothing is wrong, but I am at that time of life where preventative maintenance takes more time.  Specifically, I have my first colonoscopy two weeks from now.

Yesterday I went to an ENT.  I've had various doctors look at my left ear, and the audiologist referred me to the ENT because she wasn't comfortable with the amount of hard wax that was in my left ear.  I made the appointment and then got very intentional about using the earwax softening drops every night.  Happily, it worked.  The ENT was able to get the impacted wax out with injections of warm water, which was unpleasant but not as painful as scraping would be.

Still, it all left me a bit sore and unsettled, which was not a surprise, which was why I postponed this appointment until the week when I didn't have teaching or seminary classes to take.  I spent much of yesterday afternoon sitting and sewing and waiting for the aspirin to take effect.  In the evening, I packed a bit for the upcoming graduation festivities.

I feel a bit strange, doing all the graduation festivities.  But I've always done them.  It feels important to mark the time that way.  It feels a bit self-indulgent, although I remind myself that no one has to come see me.  And it's not like I have to take time off work to do all the graduation festivities.  

Life reminds me over and over again that I may think I have lots of chances to travel, to be with loved ones, to do out of the ordinary activities--but that's getting less and less true, as I get older.  

Plus, this graduation is in the National Cathedral--this graduation will likely be the only one I've ever had in the National Cathedral. 

Sewing at Semester's End

I spent a good chunk of yesterday morning grading and checking and checking again and then turning in final grades.  And then, I went for a walk in the beautiful, sunny, chilly morning.  I spent the afternoon watching old episodes of Top Chef and working on the log cabin quilt squares that I started last week-end.

There are five log cabin patches/squares on the top of the chair; I did most of the sewing of them over the past two days.  Nine days ago, I had nothing assembled at all.  I mention this, just to note how much I can accomplish if I just sit and sew while watching TV.

The strips that I am using come from strips that would have otherwise gone into the garbage at Quilt Camp a few weeks ago.  I collected bag after bag of scraps that would have otherwise gone into the garbage, enough to fill the hatchback of my little Toyota Prius.  We used some of it at the Create in Me retreat, and I sent most of it back with a retreatant from Knoxville who will take it to a resource center where people can come in and get all sorts of supplies for free or for cheap.

I am creating these log cabin patches/squares to enlarge the quilt in progress; I need at least 7 more, maybe 14.  The picture above is the top that I put together over the past two Quilt Camps, with patches/squares that I made mostly during the spring of 2023.  Here's a picture from January of 2023, in the early stage of the process.

I used these squares in my Queer Theology class, which I wrote about in a blog post.  I am so grateful to have gone to a seminary where my professors encouraged interesting approaches.

I've gotten some of my seminary grades, and I should get the rest today--graduate grades are due tomorrow.  The grades are good and the comments make me happy.  Every time I turn in an assignment, there's still that fear that I've done it wrong.  For the two classes that I took this semester, I'd taken other classes with each professor, so I wasn't as worried, but the worry is always there.

Today I should restore some order to the house.  I need to pay some bills, return some library books, all the things that could be postponed until now.  But I will probably also sew some more.  I really enjoy putting the strips together, seeing how the whole becomes so much more than the individual strips.