Spring

Spring is in the air.

Of course, I write this in the middle of a whiteout snowstorm that is threatening to dump as much as a foot of snow on the beleaguered upstate NY region. My co-workers find my optimism cute and amusing. ‘I think the poor Californian vicar has finally lost it….’ But I stand by my pronouncement. Spring is in the air; you can feel it. There’s a difference in the air now. The bitter suffocating cold that blanketed the area for the past two months is loosening its grip. In the icy wind, there is a subtle hint of warmth. Once a week now, the temperatures even lean towards forty before quickly plummeting back to the teens.

The past couple weeks have been busy with planning for Lent. I’ve always loved Lent, and one of my favorite things about it is the contrasts it involves. As we march towards the cross, the texts become more optimistic. Nicodemus approaches Jesus at night; then Jesus meets the woman at the well in the middle of the day. Jesus brings sight to a blind man; Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead. We’re moving to the somberness of Good Friday, but the texts steadily remind us that there is life after the cross. The weather always seems to mirror the texts. In the depths of the darkness of this season, a brilliant spring day reminds me that the grave is not the end. The empty tomb follows the cross, spring follows winter, Easter follows Lent. There is a pattern to this world, and that pattern leans towards life.

Practical Theology

And then internship throws something at you that no amount of theology lectures can possibly prepare you for…

Sitting in church on Wednesday night as my supervisor leads the Eucharistic prayer. I have my normal horde of six-year-old boys around me. N is on one side, L and Z on the other. N, who appears to be making up a song on his bulletin-turned-horn is apparently paying more attention than I realized, as he suddenly turns to me, points at the chalice, and says, “is that blood in there?” His tone is surprisingly matter-of-fact for a six-year-old asking a question about a goblet full of blood. I don’t know how to answer.

“Um,” I stutter weakly, “yes, we believe that is Jesus’ blood…” Not sure how to explain this at six-year-old level and worried that I might frighten him, I follow up with, “and also grape juice.” A comment I instantly regret as one, it’s not grape juice at all, but wine, and two, not exactly the most theologically honest answer to the question. As I am struggling with where to go from here, my attention is drawn to my right, as Z has apparently stuck his finger in L’s ear. By the time I get that sorted out and turn back to N, the service has moved on and he is contentedly bellowing the Lord’s Prayer at the top of his lungs. Now is not the time to continue our conversation.

The service continues. We finish with communion and I am once again seated amongst the six-year-olds. N points to the now empty chalice.

“Was there blood in that cup?” he asks again. I turn to answer but once again, Z sticks his finger in L’s ear and the conversation is diverted. When I get back to N, the service has again moved on and he is now inventing his own tune for the closing hymn. Once again, I missed my chance.

I can wax poetic on Lutheran Eucharistic theology for a long time. I have written pages on the subject for various seminary courses. But how to condense all that knowledge to honor a six-year-old’s question in the middle of a worship service while simultaneously keeping his colleagues from sticking their fingers in one another’s ears is the true balancing act of ministry.

Trusting the Slide

This weekend I went to the movies in a snowstorm. By the time the movie ended there was four inches of new snow on the roof of my car so it was a pretty sizeable storm, but it didn’t change my decision to go out at all. In Syracuse if I waited for the weather to be good I’d never go anywhere.

I was thinking as I was driving how much my perception of weather has changed. In December I absolutely would not have gone out on a night like last Saturday. I would have sat alone in my living room watching the snow pile up and feeling trapped. Over the last two months I have grown increasingly confident as a snow driver. Mainly because I know now what it feels like to slide and to correct. The roads are slick, but I know what it feels like to lose control and I trust my car and myself enough to be able to regain control again.

I have developed a similar calm about internship. When I first came I was terrified I was going to make a mistake. I was just waiting for that trip or slip that would spell disaster. What I have come to learn is I will screw up sometimes. But what matters is not that I don’t make mistakes, but how I respond once I do. I have to trust myself, the relationships I’ve built, and the grace of this community, to embrace me through whatever slip-up I may cause. But I cannot let the fear of slipping prevent me from trying. Worse than making a mistake is not to do anything at all.