It now seems eons away...but now is the first chance I've had to post something meaningful to my blog.
How do you even begin to describe it?
Let's begin with a word of immense gratitude for Future Bishop. I truly don’t know what I would have done without him.
He trained the
crucifer, acolytes, and bearers; he relayed messages between pastors; he ran interference so I could have 10 minutes alone in the chapel before the ordination.
Man, I miss working with him, laughing with him, and talking with him…it was great to see him and to have him (and his wife, a wonderful person and great photographer) be a part of the event.
The entire service went fairly smoothly, and it was a serene, melodic, flowing event.
A sturdy, quiet, assured passion flowed beneath like an undercurrent with its subtle but sure ways.
Along its more obvious current, there were waves of laughter and moments of truth telling, smooth waters of assurance of the grace of God, slowing streams as cues were missed or as technology slowed the movement, and a glowing, brilliant, unending sunshine sharing its rays upon us through the lovely
stained glass images along the sanctuary windows.
The lyrical muse sung her majestic tunes as the Spirit was summoned and as prayers were intoned.
The ground upon which I stood was holy as springs of quiet, calm assurance bubbled up in my soul.
Up at the front, as I was making my promises, I have to admit that I
wasn’t really listening.
It was a touch surreal.
I tried to listen.
I really did.
I also just tried to be present in the moment and dwell upon the holy ground of the occasion.
I knew from previous seminary courses what I was promising to do.
I guess it’s a good thing they go through those words during seminary classes – the professors have been there, standing before God, a group of pastors, and a congregation. They know it’s hard to listen while the words are being uttered.
Best be prepared by knowing cognitively what will be said and to ponder it during the long journey toward ordination in case your ears freeze up and tune out during the actual ceremony.
Yet another example of seminary training making sense once all is said and done.
Rab’s
gramma marvelled at how well I knew my one line…I repeated three or four times:
I will and I ask God to help and guide me. That’s the great thing about Grandmas:
they marvel at your every moment.
It’s nice to have someone marvel over you from time to time, and I'm so grateful she was able to be there and be present on behalf of all my grandparents.
During the actual ordination and laying on of hands, the memory of the warm, almost hot, sensation of
one pastor's hand lingers along the middle of my upper back even still.
As the gentle, collegial presence of clergy hands were placed upon my head, back and shoulders, the Bishop grasped my head with both hands.
After considering the amount of hairspray I had used, I re-entered the moment, feeling cradled in grace, affirmation, and
confimation.
There encircling me were those who each have trod along parts of the path with me – all at different times and in different stages.
Each of them thrilled to be there, eagerly embracing the reality of the event, each celebrating alongside me.
It was humbling.
I was filled with gratefulness for all the moments – remembered and forgotten – that they each played a role in the path that came to a point of fruition at that altar.
I was in awe of the ways each of them has formed me and played a role in how I will pastor, how I will ponder, even how I will enter a room or introduce myself on the phone.
I have been truly blessed by such an enormous cloud of witnesses.
It is really stunning to consider the slow, steady, plodding, somewhat goal-oriented work of God.
Communion Communion had its own memories and moments. I gave each of the boys a wooden symbol as a memento from the ordination. Minky received a fish and Sony, a cross. I bought the necklaces in Germany last year. Minky told me he loved me even more after he put his on. It was too cute. The boys reluctantly wanted to participate, so I asked them to bring up the elements for communion. My sister-in-law, who attends a non-liturgical church, understandably missed the cue to send the kids up, so Rab ended up darting down the side aisle to move them along. Sony processed up with the bread, but, fittingly, Minky was in the bathroom (his favorite hideout when his anxiety strikes). A few minutes later, though, Minky was precious as he strayed in with the wine after the words of institution. I’m glad whomever made the call sent him up nonetheless – it was so Minky, so appropriate, and so endearing.
Serving communion provided so many special scenes. Future Bishop and I shared one side of the altar, while the Bishop and my Mentor shared the other. One of my nephews wore his Oregon State Beavers shirt just to mess with me – when I served him communion, I leaned down and said, “The body of the Lord, even for Beaver fans.” I was also blessed to serve my niece (who is also my goddaughter) and nephew their first communion. Prior to that, my family of origin: brother, sister, mother, father, all communed together beside one another. There was something mindblowingly holy about that. When I served the Bishop communion, I said the phrase for wine both times. Luckily, he’s very human and has a wonderful sense of humor.
Low High Church
I coined a new phrase for the event: low high church. This entailed: no robes on the kids who served as crucifer, Bible bearer, stole bearer and acolytes; communion elements coming to the altar in stages; room for the participation of many children; all worship leaders sitting in the front pews with nobody up top in the holier-than-thou seating; and a setting where the crucifer was encouraged to wear her favorite jeans and looked beautiful as-is.
Grinning with a fellow student from the Seminary Down South afterward as a snapshot was taken, I said “Former Advisor (aka Liturgy Nazi) would have hated this service.” Should Be a Professor responded, “Yes, he would have.” Unpastorally, I added, “That’s part of why I loved it so much.”
Dependence, letting go, and trust
There was an element of letting go inherent in being ordained. I could not be the one rushing around when things went awry, I could not be in the narthex worrying about Minky’s mood or Sony’s indifference regarding his participation in the event, I could not admonish myself (although I suppose I am fairly good at it some days…), could not ordain myself, preach, chant, read, sing, usher, record, accompany, prepare communion elements, hang banners, arrange microphones, train acolytes, lay on hands, present the ordinand … Surprisingly, it actually was not difficult to let all these tasks fall to others. I trusted all those involved. I relied upon them without reservation, without panic. When plans changed and people fell ill, which happened up to the last minutes, substitutes were readily available and participated beautifully in their unplanned, unexpected roles. The experience was a team effort in which each person gave me (and God) the gift of themselves. Each hand raised from the pews during the laying on of hands, each assigned role, each stand-in opportunity was a chance for another to have an active part in the Church’s ordaining of a new pastor. It was an experience of the whole church, a time for me to lay back, be in the moment, flow with the current, and breathe. It was a beautiful gift – both the service in all its parts and my God-given (and long strived-for) ability to rest in the flow of reality in all its flawed and precious beauty. To simply be, to follow my brother’s advice, to simply live the moment fully…what grace.
What I recall most clearly
Now, days afterward, what stands out most clearly are the hugs, hugs and more hugs from beginning to end; the resounding joy of each person present; and the grace upon grace experience of hearing the clear, distinct, unambiguous, reverberating, unquestionable stand that each of us are beloved children of God, knit together and created uniquely yet each in God’s image, called to fully live into our own God-given identities. The message echoed from the rafters and hung in the air as it permeated each soul.
So there you have it in a nutshell...the abbreviated story of another pastor joining a long line of faithful and not-so-faithful servants, hoping to serve on the faithful team as best she can.
The topic of Word and Sacrament ministry and what it means has come up directly and indirectly during my time at my new congregation (which I have decided to term Elijah in Egypt). My predecessor was particularly skilled at empowering the laity and at delegating responsibilities for the ministries of the congregation. While this has created a cadre of talented and responsible leaders, it has also caused me (and Elijah!) to reckon with the questions about the pastor's role.
