(no subject)
sept. 11, 2009
Today marks the 8th anniversary of the attacks on 9/11. During our worship this morning the rain was pouring down and we heard the sound of planes flying overhead, an uncommon occurrence and especially eerie considering the day. Afterward, in small group, we shared our experiences on that day 8 years ago. I'd heard stories of people in NYC, but living near D.C. now and hearing stories of people who were in the thick of it here was really moving (I'm getting goose bumps just thinking about it). One person said that they were working in the city (D.C.) and everything shut down completely. Public transportation had halted, so they walked to Arlington to meet their father, and as they walked across a bridge, they saw the Pentagon on fire and 2 or 3 jets flying low over the water. The city they knew and loved was not the same--I imagine it appeared almost to be a war zone. One of my friends said that even though they lived out of the country, they were still very much affected by what had happened. The whole world mourned that day.
To be perfectly honest, before today I had thought that maybe we were going a bit overboard in all the remembrances, but after participating in them this morning I realized that a) the Pentagon is about 8-10 minutes from here, so it is very close to home for people here and b) though I didn't really know anyone personally who was directly affected, I realized that even I was still grieving, a process that I think will continue.
After sharing our experiences our advisor asked us what we thought about why bad things happen. This has always been an intensely difficult question, one that I'm still trying to figure out. One of the people in our group said that they believed that God let bad things happen because God tests us. This rubbed me the wrong way--I cannot believe in a God that would allow people to die just to teach us a lesson. What kind of loving God would let Katrina happen, let people starve or be killed in genocide, just to wake us up and remind us of our mortality? I believe that God suffers with us, that God hurts every time one of us is hurt or killed or lonely or abused. And I don't think that I will ever know the answer to this question, at least not in this life. Our advisor asked us what we would tell parishioners if they asked us, and someone said that maybe what we should do is be present and live in that question with them. Very wise, I think.
On a different note, last night I was at an ecumenical gathering of seminarians from Catholic, Episcopal, Lutheran, and Baptist schools (all part of the consortium). After a combined service we broke up into small groups to eat dinner at different schools in the area. I was privileged enough to go to the Pauline community, a Catholic order that focuses on evangelism, ecumenism, and interfaith dialogue. I spoke with two members about their ordination process (7 years) and shared the process in the Episcopal Church. After dinner our small group shared stories of our call to ordained ministry, and what struck me the most (other than that I wasn’t the only one who’d played priest as a kid) was how many people said that their experiences from ages 18-25 were what led them into church and the ministry. Whether it was during or right after college, or if it was revisiting the feelings they had had at that moment in their lives after pursuing other careers, it was incredible to see how important that time period was to so many of us.
What does this say about where the church needs to focus? I don’t mean to imply that everyone should become priests-because there are many different forms of ministry-but if we can open our doors and welcome people especially in this crucial time of formation, how many more people will come to know and share in the love of Jesus Christ?!
Today marks the 8th anniversary of the attacks on 9/11. During our worship this morning the rain was pouring down and we heard the sound of planes flying overhead, an uncommon occurrence and especially eerie considering the day. Afterward, in small group, we shared our experiences on that day 8 years ago. I'd heard stories of people in NYC, but living near D.C. now and hearing stories of people who were in the thick of it here was really moving (I'm getting goose bumps just thinking about it). One person said that they were working in the city (D.C.) and everything shut down completely. Public transportation had halted, so they walked to Arlington to meet their father, and as they walked across a bridge, they saw the Pentagon on fire and 2 or 3 jets flying low over the water. The city they knew and loved was not the same--I imagine it appeared almost to be a war zone. One of my friends said that even though they lived out of the country, they were still very much affected by what had happened. The whole world mourned that day.
To be perfectly honest, before today I had thought that maybe we were going a bit overboard in all the remembrances, but after participating in them this morning I realized that a) the Pentagon is about 8-10 minutes from here, so it is very close to home for people here and b) though I didn't really know anyone personally who was directly affected, I realized that even I was still grieving, a process that I think will continue.
After sharing our experiences our advisor asked us what we thought about why bad things happen. This has always been an intensely difficult question, one that I'm still trying to figure out. One of the people in our group said that they believed that God let bad things happen because God tests us. This rubbed me the wrong way--I cannot believe in a God that would allow people to die just to teach us a lesson. What kind of loving God would let Katrina happen, let people starve or be killed in genocide, just to wake us up and remind us of our mortality? I believe that God suffers with us, that God hurts every time one of us is hurt or killed or lonely or abused. And I don't think that I will ever know the answer to this question, at least not in this life. Our advisor asked us what we would tell parishioners if they asked us, and someone said that maybe what we should do is be present and live in that question with them. Very wise, I think.
On a different note, last night I was at an ecumenical gathering of seminarians from Catholic, Episcopal, Lutheran, and Baptist schools (all part of the consortium). After a combined service we broke up into small groups to eat dinner at different schools in the area. I was privileged enough to go to the Pauline community, a Catholic order that focuses on evangelism, ecumenism, and interfaith dialogue. I spoke with two members about their ordination process (7 years) and shared the process in the Episcopal Church. After dinner our small group shared stories of our call to ordained ministry, and what struck me the most (other than that I wasn’t the only one who’d played priest as a kid) was how many people said that their experiences from ages 18-25 were what led them into church and the ministry. Whether it was during or right after college, or if it was revisiting the feelings they had had at that moment in their lives after pursuing other careers, it was incredible to see how important that time period was to so many of us.
What does this say about where the church needs to focus? I don’t mean to imply that everyone should become priests-because there are many different forms of ministry-but if we can open our doors and welcome people especially in this crucial time of formation, how many more people will come to know and share in the love of Jesus Christ?!