Ok, so I'm totally doing this when I become a professor. Today I had my second PhD course, and it was a course about fundamental Issues in Christian Ethics, particularly in terms of faith and morality. This is the kind of stuff that I love, learning about feminist ethics, social justice ethics, and just how the hell (pun intended) can we use this faith that we have to make a difference and to create a more just and loving society. Anyways, my professor is an Ethicist, and he is probably the funniest prof I have ever had thusfar...but amidst the joking was such a strong message. So here is the activity that we did today about a dalmatian and the kingdom of God:
We were all given a piece of paper with black and white splotches all over it, and on the top of the paper it said "top" so we knew which way to hold it, and at the bottom it said "Find the Dalmatian". So, being the visually astute person that I am, I stared and stared and within a few minutes I raised my hand to say that I could see the dalmatian. There were only 2 other people who could "see" it, in a class of about 20. When I went outside in the hallway so the professor could verify that I could point it out, he just shook his head no and said that I still hadn't found it. The other 2 people tried to show me what they could see, but the stipulation was that they couldn't blatantly trace it out for me, they had to try to explain it. Phrases like "it's actually smaller than you think" and "it's not looking at you" made me more confused, and I was trying for the ENTIRE class to find the Dalmatian. To the point where I could barely listen to the professor because I was so upset that I couldn't see it, or that I had thought that I had seen it but really was totally wrong.
The way the prof linked this with faith and morality is that in a very real way, this is how Jesus must have felt when trying to explain the Kingdom of God to people. He KNEW that the dalmatian was right in front of them, but all that they could see were black and white splotches. He couldn't "trace" the image for them, he had to explain the kingdom in parables, hoping that they would finally see it for themselves. That "aha!" moment can only arise out of the person finding the dalmatian and then, all of a sudden once they have found it, they can see nothing else. How frustrated Jesus must have been when he tried to tell his disciples "it's right there in front of you!!" but couldn't force it upon them (perhaps because of free will, perhaps because every person has to come to belief by themselves??). The prof said that the people like me were very much like Peter....they wanted so badly to believe, wanted so badly to see....but they just couldn't. I just couldn't. I feel very much like a Peter in that I believed that the dalmatian was there, but I just couldn't see it myself. I actually thought that I saw it, but then was told that that was a "false" image. Some people are like Paul and they all of a sudden see it and then their lives are changed because now they can't see anything else in the picture.
I'm not really explaining the powerfulness of the activity very well for those of you who weren't there, but it really got me thinking about faith, and about the constant struggle to see what is right in front of you. Right now, I'm having trouble seeing. I'm having trouble believing that God knows the desires of my heart and is going to give them to me at the perfect time. I'm having trouble seeing how being in a whole new city, torn away from my dearest friends and family, will feel like home. I really really want to see, but I can't right now. And like Peter, I'm walking on the water terrified that I'm going to drown- oh me of little faith! What would it mean to finally see things clearly? How jealous I am of people who do see it clearly, with no trouble at all! It's kind of ironic that I was so sure I saw it and then was told "nope, that's not it"...how often I think that I know what's best for me and what truth is, when really it's just a distortion of my human and biased eyes.
In the end, I forced one of the girls that could see it to go in the hallway after class and literally highlight the dalmatian for me. I had no "aha" moment, just a relief that I solved that puzzle for the morning. So I kind of cheated. But deep down, I know that me finding the kingdom of God will be the greater struggle, and there's no cheating. So, like Peter, I'm just gonna keep trying.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Charity, Justice, and being convicted by love in El Salvador
This past June, I went with my home parish, St. Catherine of Siena, to El Salvador for 10 days to visit our sister community in a village called El Sitio. I hate to call it a mission trip, because we weren't really going to evangelize (most of the people were already Catholic), and it wasn't even necessarily a service trip...it was more of an immersion, a visiting of friends, who would soon become like family. I could write about how great it was to bring medicine to the village, to help them install water filters, to guide them in their village meetings, and to play with the kids- it was. But I think that the point of this trip was not really to "be one with the poor" or to give pieces of our wealth to people living below poverty level, however gratifying/selfless that may feel. I think that the point, though I may be corrected, is to understand how their life is like, to learn from them as fellow human beings and share our stories.
There was an article that we were told to read before we left called "The cost of short-term mission trips", and it talked a lot about how at times it is futile for North Americans to go on mission trips for such a short amount of time because they immerse themselves in a situation ridden with poverty, bring some of their first-world goods, play with the kids, and then comfortably go back to their relatively pampered lives. This often leaves the people who went on the trips feeling proud of themselves for "surviving the dump" and for "giving back" and the people on the receiving end depending on these kind of handouts and free gifts from the people who come.
When I was in El Sitio, I feel like I learned from them more than they could ever learn/receive from me. I learned how the power of forgiveness can overcome even the most brutal of wars. I learned how even when you don't have that much, you can still be so generous. I learned that education is perhaps the most important thing that a person can have, and it is a glimmer of hope in the midst of young teen pregnancy, the oppression of women, poverty, war, and governmental oppression. I learned that I feel more alive, more like myself, when I don't constantly have technology to distract me from my real problems, though technology certainly serves a great purpose. Sometimes I can have so much yet feel so alone, as I suspect many Americans feel at one point or another.
But on to the theme of this blogpost, which is my discovery of the fine line between charity and justice during my time in El Salvador. On one of the first nights there, I remember having a night-chat with my group leader Bryan about how guilty I felt about how dirty I thought the outhouses were, that even the "master bedroom" that they gave me left me feeling kind of repulsed and like I was "camping". What made me feel so bad is that I knew that I would only have to "put up" with living in the location for a week, when for the people of the village, this was life. What did I do to deserve a flush toilet, the luxury of stepping out of a pristine shower and feeling so clean, and enough money to always keep me fed, happy and with options in my life? I am so spoiled, and yet so underserving. Furthermore, what good can it do when we North Americans come down to El Salvador with money and gifts, when even if they work all day in the fields they still won't make enough to survive on their own and feed their families? Are we perpetuating the "handout" culture that short-term missionaries have created? Where is the justice and can things change?
I asked myself all of these questions and had a kind of word-vomit conversation with Bryan that night, and it left me constantly wondering what I, as a Catholic first-world citizen can do to help people in developing and third-world countries self-sustain, and have a good quality of life. I don't want to give a man a fish (I've only actually fished like 3 times in my life, haha), I want them to be able to fish themselves, get paid a just price for their fish, and not have to rely on the U.S. for handouts. Surely the Jesuits who stood up against injustice in El Salvador, and Oscar Romero, would agree that as Catholics we have a duty to stand up for justice and have a preferential option for the poor. What is theology if it doesn't spur people to practically apply the gospel in their everyday lives? And so, as I enter my PhD program, I want to focus on how my theological studies can contribute to liberation, to thriving and to a more just world.
There was an article that we were told to read before we left called "The cost of short-term mission trips", and it talked a lot about how at times it is futile for North Americans to go on mission trips for such a short amount of time because they immerse themselves in a situation ridden with poverty, bring some of their first-world goods, play with the kids, and then comfortably go back to their relatively pampered lives. This often leaves the people who went on the trips feeling proud of themselves for "surviving the dump" and for "giving back" and the people on the receiving end depending on these kind of handouts and free gifts from the people who come.
When I was in El Sitio, I feel like I learned from them more than they could ever learn/receive from me. I learned how the power of forgiveness can overcome even the most brutal of wars. I learned how even when you don't have that much, you can still be so generous. I learned that education is perhaps the most important thing that a person can have, and it is a glimmer of hope in the midst of young teen pregnancy, the oppression of women, poverty, war, and governmental oppression. I learned that I feel more alive, more like myself, when I don't constantly have technology to distract me from my real problems, though technology certainly serves a great purpose. Sometimes I can have so much yet feel so alone, as I suspect many Americans feel at one point or another.
But on to the theme of this blogpost, which is my discovery of the fine line between charity and justice during my time in El Salvador. On one of the first nights there, I remember having a night-chat with my group leader Bryan about how guilty I felt about how dirty I thought the outhouses were, that even the "master bedroom" that they gave me left me feeling kind of repulsed and like I was "camping". What made me feel so bad is that I knew that I would only have to "put up" with living in the location for a week, when for the people of the village, this was life. What did I do to deserve a flush toilet, the luxury of stepping out of a pristine shower and feeling so clean, and enough money to always keep me fed, happy and with options in my life? I am so spoiled, and yet so underserving. Furthermore, what good can it do when we North Americans come down to El Salvador with money and gifts, when even if they work all day in the fields they still won't make enough to survive on their own and feed their families? Are we perpetuating the "handout" culture that short-term missionaries have created? Where is the justice and can things change?
I asked myself all of these questions and had a kind of word-vomit conversation with Bryan that night, and it left me constantly wondering what I, as a Catholic first-world citizen can do to help people in developing and third-world countries self-sustain, and have a good quality of life. I don't want to give a man a fish (I've only actually fished like 3 times in my life, haha), I want them to be able to fish themselves, get paid a just price for their fish, and not have to rely on the U.S. for handouts. Surely the Jesuits who stood up against injustice in El Salvador, and Oscar Romero, would agree that as Catholics we have a duty to stand up for justice and have a preferential option for the poor. What is theology if it doesn't spur people to practically apply the gospel in their everyday lives? And so, as I enter my PhD program, I want to focus on how my theological studies can contribute to liberation, to thriving and to a more just world.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Gender Neutrality
Just wanted to quickly post this NPR article about gender- it asks great questions about what gender means in our society today!! http://www.npr.org/2011/06/24/137342682/the-end-of-gender?ft=1&f=1001
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Happy is the Heart
I haven't blogged in quite awhile, ever-consumed by my Master's thesis, which has now been successfully defended and approved by the Graduate School! In writing about female sexuality and the issues regarding a woman's vocation within the Catholic Church, I found myself finding questions that arose out of questions, and it seemed like I could never really hone in on one specific argument without finding myself caught up in many other arguments and discussions regarding a woman's natural and divine "role", sexuality in general, and Church teaching about reproduction. It is definitely something that I want to come back to, once I've taken some time away and cleared my head.
In an attempt to put my faith into action, and to stop thinking about myself all of the time, I decided to take part in a 10-day young adult delegation to El Sitio, El Salvador, with my parish from home. I'm really excited about this new spiritual adventure, and I really love the people that I am going with. To prepare for the trip, they recommended that we see the independent film "Voces Innocentes", a real-life story about a young boy growing up in El Salvador during the civil war in the 1980s. The film was really really good, and it got me thinking a lot about the loss of innocence, and how it is nearly impossible to get it back once it is taken away. The boy underwent experiences that I cannot even imagine having, having grown up in middle-class suburbia in a safe and wealthy country. The priest in the story lamented how the children of El Salvador, by witnessing violence, bloodshed and hatred had lost their childhood innocence which had been replaced by fear, pain and bitterness.
Although living in a war-torn country certainly does NOT compare to being brought up in a relatively safe, stable and just society such as the United States, I definitely started thinking about the parallel between the loss of innocence that the people of Latin America experience by physical and environmental effects and the loss of innocence experienced by many Americans as a result of emotional and domestic effects. Let me explain...
I cannot tell you how many young males I have talked to within the past few months who have specifically told me that something in their past has caused them to fear, avoid and sometimes disdain love. I have observed this in women as well, but definitely not to the same degree. They say that they don't want to get too close to someone because then they risk vulnerability, which ultimately will lead to devastating hurt. A lot of the young men I have heard this from have had parents who have gotten divorced, and on top of that have had heartbreaks of their own, or feelings of abandonment. They have admitted to me that they don't want to make the same mistake that their parents did, and that they don't want to feel that hurt again. So they distance, close up, and stick to the superficial. I am not blaming them, but I look upon this trend amongst young people growing up in the 21st century United States as something that is to be mourned...a loss of innocence to love.
Granted, My parents are not divorced and a lot of my friends never experienced this growing up either, but I have had my fair shake of heartache, even devastating heartache. A few people have told me that in order to protect myself, I need to guard myself from people in order not to hurt so much again. While there is indeed truth and wisdom in guarding your heart, I refuse to become another person closed off to love, keeping my heart in a prison and thinking that every person has the potential to hurt me. While many other people may cause me pain, I think it would be a disservice to myself to lock it up and not let people in for FEAR of what may happen. Fear is the enemy, not our helpmate in life. As Ingrid Michaelson sang, "Happy is the heart who still feels pain." At least I am still feeling something, good or bad, and have not lost the innocent hope that everything will turn out ok. Hey, I might even be blissfully happy someday...I'll take those odds ;-)
In an attempt to put my faith into action, and to stop thinking about myself all of the time, I decided to take part in a 10-day young adult delegation to El Sitio, El Salvador, with my parish from home. I'm really excited about this new spiritual adventure, and I really love the people that I am going with. To prepare for the trip, they recommended that we see the independent film "Voces Innocentes", a real-life story about a young boy growing up in El Salvador during the civil war in the 1980s. The film was really really good, and it got me thinking a lot about the loss of innocence, and how it is nearly impossible to get it back once it is taken away. The boy underwent experiences that I cannot even imagine having, having grown up in middle-class suburbia in a safe and wealthy country. The priest in the story lamented how the children of El Salvador, by witnessing violence, bloodshed and hatred had lost their childhood innocence which had been replaced by fear, pain and bitterness.
Although living in a war-torn country certainly does NOT compare to being brought up in a relatively safe, stable and just society such as the United States, I definitely started thinking about the parallel between the loss of innocence that the people of Latin America experience by physical and environmental effects and the loss of innocence experienced by many Americans as a result of emotional and domestic effects. Let me explain...
I cannot tell you how many young males I have talked to within the past few months who have specifically told me that something in their past has caused them to fear, avoid and sometimes disdain love. I have observed this in women as well, but definitely not to the same degree. They say that they don't want to get too close to someone because then they risk vulnerability, which ultimately will lead to devastating hurt. A lot of the young men I have heard this from have had parents who have gotten divorced, and on top of that have had heartbreaks of their own, or feelings of abandonment. They have admitted to me that they don't want to make the same mistake that their parents did, and that they don't want to feel that hurt again. So they distance, close up, and stick to the superficial. I am not blaming them, but I look upon this trend amongst young people growing up in the 21st century United States as something that is to be mourned...a loss of innocence to love.
Granted, My parents are not divorced and a lot of my friends never experienced this growing up either, but I have had my fair shake of heartache, even devastating heartache. A few people have told me that in order to protect myself, I need to guard myself from people in order not to hurt so much again. While there is indeed truth and wisdom in guarding your heart, I refuse to become another person closed off to love, keeping my heart in a prison and thinking that every person has the potential to hurt me. While many other people may cause me pain, I think it would be a disservice to myself to lock it up and not let people in for FEAR of what may happen. Fear is the enemy, not our helpmate in life. As Ingrid Michaelson sang, "Happy is the heart who still feels pain." At least I am still feeling something, good or bad, and have not lost the innocent hope that everything will turn out ok. Hey, I might even be blissfully happy someday...I'll take those odds ;-)
Saturday, December 25, 2010
The Story of the Pearls
My dear friend Jackie shared this really powerful story with me at a time that I really needed to hear it, and it has really made an impact on me as I am starting a new chapter, nay-a new book, in my life. Though sometimes life throws you curves that you might not understand in the least at the time, God knows the beginning and end of your story, and always wants to give you the most precious gifts that lead to true happiness. Or so I hope, as I am growing, learning and struggling.
The cheerful girl with bouncy golden curls was almost five. Waiting with her mother at the checkout stand, she saw them: a circle of glistening white pearls in a pink foil box.
"Oh please, Mommy. Can I have them? Please, Mommy, please!"
Quickly the mother checked the back of the little foil box and then looked back into the pleading blue eyes of her little girl's upturned face.
"A dollar ninety-five. That's almost $2.00. If you really want them, I'll think of some extra chores for you and in no time you can save enough money to buy them for yourself. Your birthday's only a week away and you might get another crisp dollar bill from Grandma."
As soon as Jenny got home, she emptied her penny bank and counted out 17 pennies. After dinner, she did more than her share of chores and she went to the neighbor and asked Mrs. McJames if she could pick dandelions for ten cents.
On her birthday, Grandma did give her another new dollar bill and at last she had enough money to buy the necklace.
Jenny loved her pearls. They made her feel dressed up and grown up. She wore them everywhere--Sunday school, kindergarten, even to bed. The only time she took them off was when she went swimming or had a bubble bath. Mother said if they got wet, they might turn her neck green.
Jenny had a very loving daddy and every night when she was ready for bed, he would stop whatever he was doing and come upstairs to read her a story. One night when he finished the story, he asked Jenny, "Do you love me?"
"Oh yes, Daddy. You know that I love you."
"Then give me your pearls."
"Oh, Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have Princess--the white horse from my collection. The one with the pink tail. Remember, Daddy? The one you gave me. She's my favorite."
"That's okay, Honey. Daddy loves you. Good night." And he brushed her cheek with a kiss.
About a week later, after the story time, Jenny's daddy asked again, "Do you love me?"
"Daddy, you know I love you."
"Then give me your pearls."
"Oh Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have my babydoll. The brand new one I got for my birthday. She is so beautiful and you can have the yellow blanket that matches her sleeper."
"That's okay. Sleep well. God bless you, little one. Daddy loves you." And as always, he brushed her cheek with a gentle kiss.
A few nights later when her daddy came in, Jenny was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed Indian-style. As he came close, he noticed her chin was trembling and one silent tear rolled down her cheek.
"What is it, Jenny? What's the matter?"
Jenny didn't say anything but lifted her little hand up to her daddy. And when she opened it, there was her little pearl necklace. With a little quiver,she finally said, "Here, Daddy. It's for you."
With tears gathering in his own eyes, Jenny's kind daddy reached out with one hand to take the dime-store necklace, and with the other hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet case with a strand of genuine pearls and gave them to Jenny.
He had them all the time. He was just waiting for her to give up the dime-store stuff so he could give her genuine treasure.
What are you hanging on to?
--- Author Unknown
The cheerful girl with bouncy golden curls was almost five. Waiting with her mother at the checkout stand, she saw them: a circle of glistening white pearls in a pink foil box.
"Oh please, Mommy. Can I have them? Please, Mommy, please!"
Quickly the mother checked the back of the little foil box and then looked back into the pleading blue eyes of her little girl's upturned face.
"A dollar ninety-five. That's almost $2.00. If you really want them, I'll think of some extra chores for you and in no time you can save enough money to buy them for yourself. Your birthday's only a week away and you might get another crisp dollar bill from Grandma."
As soon as Jenny got home, she emptied her penny bank and counted out 17 pennies. After dinner, she did more than her share of chores and she went to the neighbor and asked Mrs. McJames if she could pick dandelions for ten cents.
On her birthday, Grandma did give her another new dollar bill and at last she had enough money to buy the necklace.
Jenny loved her pearls. They made her feel dressed up and grown up. She wore them everywhere--Sunday school, kindergarten, even to bed. The only time she took them off was when she went swimming or had a bubble bath. Mother said if they got wet, they might turn her neck green.
Jenny had a very loving daddy and every night when she was ready for bed, he would stop whatever he was doing and come upstairs to read her a story. One night when he finished the story, he asked Jenny, "Do you love me?"
"Oh yes, Daddy. You know that I love you."
"Then give me your pearls."
"Oh, Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have Princess--the white horse from my collection. The one with the pink tail. Remember, Daddy? The one you gave me. She's my favorite."
"That's okay, Honey. Daddy loves you. Good night." And he brushed her cheek with a kiss.
About a week later, after the story time, Jenny's daddy asked again, "Do you love me?"
"Daddy, you know I love you."
"Then give me your pearls."
"Oh Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have my babydoll. The brand new one I got for my birthday. She is so beautiful and you can have the yellow blanket that matches her sleeper."
"That's okay. Sleep well. God bless you, little one. Daddy loves you." And as always, he brushed her cheek with a gentle kiss.
A few nights later when her daddy came in, Jenny was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed Indian-style. As he came close, he noticed her chin was trembling and one silent tear rolled down her cheek.
"What is it, Jenny? What's the matter?"
Jenny didn't say anything but lifted her little hand up to her daddy. And when she opened it, there was her little pearl necklace. With a little quiver,she finally said, "Here, Daddy. It's for you."
With tears gathering in his own eyes, Jenny's kind daddy reached out with one hand to take the dime-store necklace, and with the other hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet case with a strand of genuine pearls and gave them to Jenny.
He had them all the time. He was just waiting for her to give up the dime-store stuff so he could give her genuine treasure.
What are you hanging on to?
--- Author Unknown
Friday, October 1, 2010
My Reality
Although, I originally intended this blog to help me with ideas for my thesis, I think that a theology-based blog also should include some real-life experiences because what is faith or theology if not practical at it's core?
Sister Nicole, a Marianist sister that I know through my internship at the Marianist Family Retreat Center in New Jersey and through the Marianist world in general, posted a prayer on her blog post the other day that was really poignant for me at this time in my life. It's called the "Prayer for Openness" by Joyce Carol Rupp, and it speaks to the ebbs and flows of life and how when one season closes, another opens.
This is really relatable to me because for the past year or so, I have been in an international long-distance relationship. What this means is that my "reality" is that I am able to see my love for a few weeks (sometimes even over a month, like this past summer) and then have to say good-bye for a few months before I see him again. For me, everso good at change (sarcasm), it is really difficult for me to transition from being with him to being apart, though I have definitely gotten better with practice.
What I have learned from this experience is that there really is no "normal" when it comes to what being in a relationship is like. Sure, I wish that I could see him on weekends or call him in the same time zone, but my reality right now is that I have to count 6 hours ahead before I pick up the phone, and that the times that I do see him are precious because it takes time and money to reach each other. No matter what the circumstance, God has given me the strength to adapt to my new reality, and I thank him every day for that gift.
Prayer for Openness
Spirit of freedom,
open my mind and my heart.
Lift the barriers,
unbind the strong grasp of my demands
when I want everything to go my way.
God of spaciousness,
reach into my inner space,
sweep out all the old clutter,
enlarge my capacity to receive.
Bringer of truth,
empty me of whatever impedes
the growth of our relationship.
Help me recognize and accept
your sources for my growth.
Creator of the seasons of life,
soften my resistance to emptying.
May I welcome each inner season
as a catalyst for my transformation.
Faithful Friend,
deepen my trust in you.
Ease my doubts, fears, and discouragements.
When I am feeling vulnerable,
remind me that you are my safe haven.
Divine Mystery,
may I be ever more rooted in you.
Draw me into solitude.
Entice me into endless encounters
where I experience oneness with you.
Holy Whisper,
open the ears of my heart.
May I hear your voice within the silence
as well as within the noise of my life.
Re-awaken me
so that I can listen to you wholeheartedly.
Bringer of Good and Giver of Growth,
we yearn to be open and receptive
to your generosity.
May we trust your presence amidst the cycle
of emptying and filling.
Sister Nicole, a Marianist sister that I know through my internship at the Marianist Family Retreat Center in New Jersey and through the Marianist world in general, posted a prayer on her blog post the other day that was really poignant for me at this time in my life. It's called the "Prayer for Openness" by Joyce Carol Rupp, and it speaks to the ebbs and flows of life and how when one season closes, another opens.
This is really relatable to me because for the past year or so, I have been in an international long-distance relationship. What this means is that my "reality" is that I am able to see my love for a few weeks (sometimes even over a month, like this past summer) and then have to say good-bye for a few months before I see him again. For me, everso good at change (sarcasm), it is really difficult for me to transition from being with him to being apart, though I have definitely gotten better with practice.
What I have learned from this experience is that there really is no "normal" when it comes to what being in a relationship is like. Sure, I wish that I could see him on weekends or call him in the same time zone, but my reality right now is that I have to count 6 hours ahead before I pick up the phone, and that the times that I do see him are precious because it takes time and money to reach each other. No matter what the circumstance, God has given me the strength to adapt to my new reality, and I thank him every day for that gift.
Prayer for Openness
Spirit of freedom,
open my mind and my heart.
Lift the barriers,
unbind the strong grasp of my demands
when I want everything to go my way.
God of spaciousness,
reach into my inner space,
sweep out all the old clutter,
enlarge my capacity to receive.
Bringer of truth,
empty me of whatever impedes
the growth of our relationship.
Help me recognize and accept
your sources for my growth.
Creator of the seasons of life,
soften my resistance to emptying.
May I welcome each inner season
as a catalyst for my transformation.
Faithful Friend,
deepen my trust in you.
Ease my doubts, fears, and discouragements.
When I am feeling vulnerable,
remind me that you are my safe haven.
Divine Mystery,
may I be ever more rooted in you.
Draw me into solitude.
Entice me into endless encounters
where I experience oneness with you.
Holy Whisper,
open the ears of my heart.
May I hear your voice within the silence
as well as within the noise of my life.
Re-awaken me
so that I can listen to you wholeheartedly.
Bringer of Good and Giver of Growth,
we yearn to be open and receptive
to your generosity.
May we trust your presence amidst the cycle
of emptying and filling.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
God Will Take Care?
For me, all it takes is one good professor. I am the type of person who just "knows" when there is something that I want or like- I am proud of my keen sense of intuition and it has served me well throughout the years. I knew that I wanted to go to UD the minute I set foot on campus, and had the best four years of my life, no hesitations, no "pros and cons" list. I am like that with a lot of things, including the major that I chose. Ever since I was in 7th grade I knew that I wanted to be a youth minister and major in Theology. 12 years has past since I first felt that vocational call, and very rarely have I wavered from that knowledge that that is what I am meant to study, that is what I am meant to do- be a theologian. However, ever since I settled in to the "real world" with a "big person" job, I seem to be getting even more fearful about this chosen career path with each passing day.
I like to get paid a salary, and know that I can be financially independent from my parents (well, besides the cell phone bill but who's counting). I live alone, have my own car and have the benefit of treating myself to sushi and buying new outfits pretty much whenever I please. My other religious studies/theoligical studies counterparts are working in ministry fields or trying to find a job in academia, with little to no money to their name. As I see my fellow theologians struggle in this economy, in this job market, it makes me less and less willing to give up everything and keep pursuing theology...because with it comes inevitable money troubles. But if you do what you love and follow what you think to be your true vocation, God will take care...right??
Yesterday I started a new class called Ecclesiology (the study of the Church) with a world reknowned professor. Immediately, I felt the sense of peace in knowing that this is what I am meant to do, and that after all of these years I still LOVE it. That's all that it took for me- one great professor to remind me that financial security is nothing compared to doing what you love, especially when you are young and don't have to take care of a family. I can't let my fear of living in a box or being jobless for a while deter me from something that brings a spring to my step and gives me a purpose in life. Getting paid is nice, but I have to believe that God will help me if I try to do his will.
I don't know if I will ever get a job teaching Theology. Sometimes I wonder if I should have just done something practical like study business or engineering. But I can't live my life in fear, giving in to the secular view that there are only certain disciplines, certain careers that are "valuable". Security is merely an illusion, as Helen Keller sagely noted. I may be poor, but at least I will be happy and know that I took the risk of pursuing my dreams. Oh money.......
I like to get paid a salary, and know that I can be financially independent from my parents (well, besides the cell phone bill but who's counting). I live alone, have my own car and have the benefit of treating myself to sushi and buying new outfits pretty much whenever I please. My other religious studies/theoligical studies counterparts are working in ministry fields or trying to find a job in academia, with little to no money to their name. As I see my fellow theologians struggle in this economy, in this job market, it makes me less and less willing to give up everything and keep pursuing theology...because with it comes inevitable money troubles. But if you do what you love and follow what you think to be your true vocation, God will take care...right??
Yesterday I started a new class called Ecclesiology (the study of the Church) with a world reknowned professor. Immediately, I felt the sense of peace in knowing that this is what I am meant to do, and that after all of these years I still LOVE it. That's all that it took for me- one great professor to remind me that financial security is nothing compared to doing what you love, especially when you are young and don't have to take care of a family. I can't let my fear of living in a box or being jobless for a while deter me from something that brings a spring to my step and gives me a purpose in life. Getting paid is nice, but I have to believe that God will help me if I try to do his will.
I don't know if I will ever get a job teaching Theology. Sometimes I wonder if I should have just done something practical like study business or engineering. But I can't live my life in fear, giving in to the secular view that there are only certain disciplines, certain careers that are "valuable". Security is merely an illusion, as Helen Keller sagely noted. I may be poor, but at least I will be happy and know that I took the risk of pursuing my dreams. Oh money.......
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)