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One thing I can say about Union Theological Seminary is that it’s never boring. There are always speakers, special chapel services, rallies, and events, amplified these days by Occupy Wall Street and the Protest Chaplains group that sprung out of our student body. There are always tests and papers and books to read. People are eager, active, engaged. And you even catch occasional glimpses of people who are famous, whether they’re here filming a TV show (like Law & Order or Pan-Am), scouting locations for information (like Daniel Radcliffe did) or here to speak/attend a special event (such as Cornel West, whom I spotted speaking to the president of the seminary on Wednesday).

But every now and then, you witness something and know you really saw something special.

Tuesday morning at 10am, Dr. James Cone walked into the classroom with a huge pile of books, which he carefully arranged on the table behind him. He began his lecture on black liberation theology. Now for the uninitiated among my readers, Cone is considered the father of black liberation theology, which sees Jesus not just as redeemer but as liberator and comfort to the oppressed and suffering. It is a theology that is inextricably woven with socio-economic and political movements, as well as the lived culture – both sacred and secular.

Dr. Cone began telling his story – where he came from (Arkansas), how he found himself studying white European and American theologians and becoming disgruntled with their utter lack of contact with his daily life as a black man in the days of Jim Crow. He spoke of watching Malcolm and Martin speak their diametrically opposed yet somehow complimentary messages. He shared the pain of seeing his black brothers and sisters beaten and killed on the lynching tree, at riots. He told us how the 1967 riots woke him up and led him to begin writing a new theology:

It was the response of white churches and white theologians – they called black power activists all kinds of names. I decided then that like the prophets, I have to show some sign that I was not the same person. That event changed me. My first outburst was an article in  Is Anybody Listening to Black America? called “Christianity and Black Power” – I was the ONLY black systematic theologian. I was determined to say SOMETHING about what the gospel is because all I had learned had NOTHING to do with it. *

We learned of his progression from his first book, Black Theology and Black Power (1969), through his responses to his critics, through working with other black theologians (notably Gayraud Wilmore) to define what the theology really is and how it expressed. He showed us, book by book, what he wrote, why he wrote it, and who also contributed to this field of black liberation theology.

He ended tenderly, with a discussion of his most recent book, The Cross and the Lynching Tree:

This book is “my last word” – this is my heart. It brings together everything: who I am, what this journey has been.  This is my favorite book. It doesn’t speak as much to a specific moment but rather is a culmination. It took some time to tell ’em what I think and what the Christian faith truly means (it took me 10 years to write).*

He said he could die happy, knowing he had finished this book.

And we all got it. We all understood that we had just heard the whole story – witnessed this man’s telling of the entire arc of his life’s work. While decades’ worth of students have heard this man teach and preach, watching him work through this amazing theology, we were the first class to see the entire story described, first hand, by the man himself.

James Cone has a passion for what he does – and a passion for his faith – that is awe-inspiring. To witness his telling of his story, to know we are learning from a man who has reshaped theological thought for the next generations, well… it was really something.

I feel blessed and honored.

 

* I transcribed his words during class – typing as fast as I could to capture every word. Any errors or misquoting are my own.

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Every Monday thru Thursday at noon, Union Theological Seminary holds a chapel service – they vary wildly, with many different speakers, themes, styles, music. Thursdays always incorporate communion, however, although the flavor and presentation changes each week.

The first communion chapel I attended two weeks ago was uncomfortable for me. As I have talked about a bit here and with others, I’ve been thinking more deeply the role Jesus might play in my life and in my theology. I have grown to appreciate the model, lessons, and hope that Jesus offers… but am still quite far from calling myself a Christian, as there are some seemingly important tenets of the faith that I cannot reconcile (and which I won’t go into at this time). Suffice it to say, however, I have grown to deeply respect a true Christian faith as modeled by Carl, and many of the friends I have made on Twitter and at Union. Thus, I feel strongly about my participation in some of the sacraments – or, I should say, refusal to particpate – particularly when it comes to Communion. In my mind, it is a sacrament shared by people who believe in Jesus Christ as savior and son of God; it is precious, meaningful, an important and sacred act of the faithful. Because I do not believe those things, I don’t believe I should take part – I haven’t taken part in a Christian Communion in almost 30 years – and I respect the sacrament too much to denigrate it by my half-hearted, unbelieving participation.

So the communion chapel two weeks ago was uncomfortable, because it was clearly a sacrament for Christian believers. I understood the message – and it was not for me. It’s hard to separate being excluded from excluding myself, but it was clear that this was not a ritual for me. I decided that I would probably skip most Thursday chapels as a result.

Fast forward two weeks to this past Thursday. I went to chapel despite there being communion, because one of my professors, David Carr, was giving the message. I figured that when we got to that part of the service I’d slip out, so I sat near an aisle. Professor Carr’s message was centered around the story in Matthew about the vineyard owner who pays everyone the same wage, whether they worked 11 hours or just 1. His message was about abundance, particularly in response to the latest charges against President Obama about ‘class warfare’ when he suggests that the wealthy pay their fair share. Carr spoke of Jesus’s message in that parable, that a society is healthy when all have food, and clothing, and shelter, and even an hour’s worth of meaningful work.

A good message… a healing one… but it was in the prayer that followed that God spoke to me (I am sorry to say I don’t know who wrote it):

God of abounding, lavishing, unfair grace,

At times, your generosity challenges us, overwhelms us, and even offends us. We ask that in this moment, you would push us to love one another more deeply.  We also ask that you grant us grace for ourselves in those times that we fail to love one another well.  As we approach your table, where all are welcomed and none go hungry, we are reminded that there are still many situations – in our own community and in the world – in which your abundance does not seem so apparent.  We now pause to offer up prayers for people and places where more of your bountiful unfairness is needed.

God of abundance, teach us how to live with open hands and open hearts, that we may tear down the barriers that divide us and contribute to the healing of the world.  As we come to your table, we ask that you continue to challenge us with your unrestrained love and meet us in all of our needs.  In your name we pray. 

 Amen.

By the time the prayer ended, I was sobbing. After the prayer, we sang Daniel Schutte’s “Table of Plenty”:

Come to the feast of heaven and earth!
Come to the table of plenty!
God will provide for all that we need,
here is the table of plenty.

O come and sit at my table
where saints and sinners are friends
I wait to welcome the lost and lonely
to share the cup of my love.

Another of my professors, Paul Knitter, presided over the Communion, and while he used many of the familiar words of the sacrament, he repeated the sentiment that this was an invitation to share of God’s abundance, to sit at God’s table. All are worthy – whether they believe or not, whether they work all day or just an hour. All comers… all hearts welcome.

God opened up the table to me, who feels unworthy and unwelcome, excluded and apart from. Me. God invited me to sit at the table.

And I could not refuse.

Still sobbing, I made my way to receive the morsel of homemade bread dipped in wine and the blessing Professor Knitter offered.  I sobbed through the final song, “The Peace of the Earth Be with You”… I sobbed in the bathroom after the service ended.

It has taken me until today to begin understanding what happened – and I’m still not quite sure, but I DO know that for all my feeling “outside’ – especially in a most decidedly Christian seminary, and with a most decidedly Christian boyfriend – God said “you’re welcome too.” God doesn’t seem to care that I have doubts. God doesn’t seem to care that I’m still quite angry. God doesn’t seem to care that I feel unworthy. God has a place for me at the table. How can I refuse?

 

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Union has welcomed us, the 175th class to enter this seminary, with the theme of Stepping Stones. It is certainly fitting, as we’re all on a journey… wading into sometimes unfamiliar waters, not quite sure where we’re going to put our feet next. The Dean of Academic Affairs, Daisy Machado, talked to us about the story of Jesus walking on the water; Peter had faith enough to step out of the boat and was fine, until a storm came. Then he sank, but called out “Lord, save me.” Peter may have lost his step, but he didn’t lose his faith. He didn’t know where the next stepping stone was, but he was pretty sure there was one, and he reached out in faith in order to find it.

It’s that image that carries me, too, into seminary. In my piece on Getting to the Yes, I talked about Kierkegaard’s idea that we live life forward but understand it backward – and some of that is stepping out, seeking the next stone, not sure where it is or what it looks like. I have no idea where I’m going (woyaya!) but in faith (and with a lot of hard work) I’ll get there.

And so… all of this is but an introduction, to say that I’ll be using the category “Stepping Stones” to talk specifically about the seminary journey.

And what a journey it has been! A week in, and already my head is going to explode with all the richness and joy. Yes, I know, I’m still in those glory days… ten miles away from the muddy concert site as it were… classes don’t start until late next week. But we had an incredible week of orientation, everything crammed into fewer days because of the hurricane. Some highlights:

I met some of the most amazing people who will be on this journey with me – they are young and old, every race, every gender. Gay, straight. Christian, Jewish, other. They are still in school mode, or long out of college. They are already ministers or not sure they want to be minister. And their stories! Amazing stories of faith, hardship, struggle, and hope. Every one hearing a call to serve somehow, many – like me – unsure what form the call will take.

I met some of the most committed faculty and staff – from the facilities people to the president – all with a sense of calling, a sense of family, a sense that Union is someplace different. I know this place is special – it’s got a long history of being on the cutting edge of theological education, and situated as it is in a world class city, it’s got a special calling to be there.

I have already made some friends I feel will be with me for many years after our degrees are completed – people with whom I instantly clicked, who have a variety of experiences I can learn from. Some, like Tiara, are fellow Unitarian Universalists. Some, like Valerie, are close to my age. Some, like Clayton, are opposites in many ways but still feel like kindred spirits.

There was a delightful moment, speaking with Ruth Tonkiss Cameron, the Burke Library archivist: she shared the story of going through a professor’s papers and books – someone who taught in the first half of the last century. On the general list of contents was a note “book, Spanish”…when she got to it, she discovered it was one of the original accounts from the Spanish Inquisition. And yes, she too had that uniquely Monty Python moment: “No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!”

There was a moment that moved me to tears – when, during a dinner, Dean Yvette Wilson came up to me, hugged me, and said “I am SO glad you are here – I remember fondly our conversation last fall.” She remembered some salient details from it…that conversation that convinced me that Union was where I should go. That she remembered me and welcomed me personally…wow.

There is, admittedly, some growing sense of “what the hell have I gotten myself into”… the workload will be heavy, and I do carry some fears about my ability to get through it all. And yet, I am comforted by the fact that I was chosen out of hundreds of people who applied, that something about my application made them say ‘this woman will fit in here’. I’m sure most of my fellow classmates are wondering the same thing – what have we gotten into – and yet we will be there for each other.

There are so many more moments from last week that I can’t even remember right now. Much of the week was a blur, with so much information and sharing and feeling brought into the fold. And this coming week will be filled with so much more – advisement, meeting faculty, and the opening day of classes. But I feel blessed, and happy to be on this journey. Not sure where the next stepping stone will be, but I have faith that I’ll find it – or at least be able to call out for help if I can’t.