Friday, April 27, 2012

First Deconstruct, then Reconstruct


Every semester here seems to get harder as it goes on.  There’s the workload, of course, but I have come to think it’s also due to something else.  

For most courses I’ve taken at United, earlier on in the semester students are asked to read books and understand what other people have said.  For many classes, as the semester progresses, we are eventually asked to read less and write more.  I’ve come to realize that – at least for me – writing takes more oomph than reading does.  It takes more effort to get myself to sit down and focus.  I’m not being asked to consume but to create or at least to synthesize. 
 
But then there are different kinds of papers.  Right now, I am working on two.  One you might call a research paper – that’s not quite the right word but it’s close enough.  From the books I have read this semester, I have set myself the task (it’s an independent study course) of closely stating what Karl Barth, Rudolph Bultmann, and Reinhold Niebuhr each have to say – and why each cares  – about the freedom of humanity and then to state my own reaction.  Not so bad.  The only catch is that in order to do that I have to read them a bit more closely than I would John Steinbeck or John Sanford!   

Early on in my seminary career, I came to feel that the other kind paper was much easier.  Here we call it a reflection paper.  I don’t have to state my understanding of the function of the word “house” in Nathan’s prophecy to David or articulate the polity and ethos of the United Church of Christ with meticulous footnotes for everything.  I just organize my thoughts. “How did your faith journey lead you to seminary” might be an example.

In the paper I am writing right now for another class we are being asked to state – essentially – “knowing what you know now, how would you formulate your theology and the church’s role in fulfilling it?”  My task is to construct something coherent that will pull together the years of reading I have done and the many components of my view of religious life.  That would include, among other things, how I make sense of God and evil, the role of the church, scripture, and the sacraments, the creation and the Second Coming.  You could say I am being asked to articulate my beliefs, make sure they all fit together, and express them all in a way that is inspiring for someone else.  Maybe it’s just me but papers seem more difficult than they used to!  

But in a way, it’s a chance to do what I have always dreamed of but never taken the time to do.  I’m being asked to sit down and make sense of life – okay, not all of life, just the eternal aspects!  Yes, it’s huge but, if I can come up with something that satisfies me, it will be worth it.  Will I come up with something to give Paul Tillich a run for his money?  Most likely not.  I may just come out knowing myself and my God a bit better.

Monday, April 16, 2012

Stick a Fork in Me…I’m Done

I’ve been a student in one way shape of form for four decades. I don’t just mean, I’m an avid reader, or I’m a student of humanity. I mean, I’ve gone through the public education system, graduated, and have shelled out many thousands of dollars and collected any number of degrees, certificates, licenses and certifications.  To be sure, I love to learn, but the other thing is that I couldn’t quite figure out what I wanted to do with my life and kept trying on new careers and skills, hoping something would stick. 


With just a few weeks left to go of my clinical pastoral education (CPE) unit in a large teaching hospital, I can finally say, I think I’ve figured it out. I think some sort of chaplaincy work is in my future. Here’s the kicker—I have a lot of schooling to finish up before I can even begin doing a year-long residency to get me closer what I believe may be my future vocation.  A lot of schooling. 


Even a year ago, it didn’t bother me greatly that I was on the slow road to a Master of Divinity. I mean, it’s not like it’s my first master’s degree. The diploma would simply join the collection on my living room wall. Now, I’m finding myself growing ever-more impatient as I consider my future, which currently looks like this: Continue working full-time in my office job while cobbling together my classes, graduate in a couple of years, cool my heels until the next time a residency program opens up (typically in the fall), do a year of residency and finally be ready to search for a chaplaincy gig. We’re talking 2015 or thereabouts.


Good things may come to those who wait, but I think I may have reached a point where I’d like to see the good things happen sooner. I’m seriously considering cutting my hours at work to take on more classes and try to wrap things up (except one straggler of a requirement) in about a year. Cutting work hours would do nothing for my already impressive sleep deficit; it does, however act as a way to rob Peter to pay Paul – I’m trying to tip the scales enough in work hours to up my course load. 


No, we can’t afford this “solution” from a monetary stand point, but I’m not sure my soul can afford to keep going like I have in the last year. My family and I have made so many sacrifices to get me this far in my United experience. While I feel like a zombie—albeit a well-learned zombie—some of the most fulfilling experiences in my educational and personal life have happened this year.


There’s no way United could describe the intensity of what some of its students will go through on their way to completing their program. I’ve been told mothers often forget the agony of childbirth almost immediately after cradling their children in their arms, and that if they didn’t, the world would be devoid of humanity. 

I sometimes wonder if there’s a kernel of truth in the childbirth analogy for those seeking a Master of Divinity—if we were to remember the harshest hours of writing papers, walking with patients or congregants in their darkest hours during our internships, trying to keep our heads above a tsunami of books that never seem to stop flowing—if we were to remember these things, would any of us ever graduate and live out our ministry in the world? I don’t know. 


What I do know is that the semester is winding down, my lease is almost up, there is still a pile of unread books, papers and final projects to complete, a handful of clinical hours to finish up, and there’s no time to really process. But then, maybe like a newborn, keeping busy keeps us from dwelling too long.  By the time we look back, the pains have subsided and all we’re left with are snapshots of moments where we can see our hard work from the perspective of the new life in our midst. That’s all flowery talk for now. If you asked me today how I feel about school, I’d have to say, “Stick a fork in me. I’m done.”
- Jayne Helgevold, MDiv student

Monday, April 9, 2012

Caution: Deconstruction in Process

We were warned.  Last fall during the new student orientation, we were told that during seminary we will be going through a process called deconstruction.  This is how I understand it: It is a process where our theology and faith will be stretched, poked, torn apart and thrown against the wall, broken into pieces and left on the ground. (ok, maybe I’m being a bit dramatic)  After this happens, then reconstruction takes its place.  This, I have heard, is where we, the students, will slowly walk out to where our pieces have been scattered, pick them up one by one and then attempt to put them back together resulting in a cohesive theology.  Hard to believe, you say? Nah, all in the lifecycle of a seminarian.

It is now the middle of my second semester and the deconstruction process is well underway. I feel like I’ve been poked, pulled, and torn apart and this is just the beginning.  I have been learning things that have shaken my identity as a Christian, struggling with concepts that affect the very foundation of my faith, and engaging in discussions that often times gracefully nurture and deeply challenge my spirit simultaneously.  However, I am having the time of my life, seriously.  Even though the process sounds utterly devastating. . .and it is, it is happening in a community where the process is coupled with an outpouring of support coming from professors and students alike.  As I journey through this semester, I know I am in good company and rely on the interaction I receive when I am on campus.

To update you, the courses I am taking are, New Testament Texts in Context, American Religious Histories, and the second of the integrative theology courses that consists of volunteering in a community setting as well as class hours commonly known as “IS 152.”  Needless to say, I am a busy bee this spring.  I still have the challenge of balancing my family life with UTS and know that it is ongoing and sometimes takes more patience than I expect.  Pulling myself together after an intense day of classes is not always a smooth transition.  The contrast from the seminary classroom to being the mom of two growing boys sometimes requires more patience than I think I have.   

All in all, I am struck with all the different points of view that I am exposed to at UTS and grateful for this unique experience.  For now, I am content with being deconstructed and not yet ready to begin reconstructing anytime soon.

Peace be with you.

- Sarah Kronkvist, MARL student