Christianity as vocation
reflections as I inch closer to becoming ordained in the Episcopal Church
Good morning from Chicago!
I’m at a great little coffee shop downtown, Goddess and the Baker. I couldn’t resist ordering the Turkish Delight latte. WHAT A TREAT. The shakshuka croissant has convinced me to add shakshuka to our weekly meal rotation. Does anyone have a recipe they love?
I traveled here last Sunday via Amtrak to take my general ordination exams from the library that Bexley Seabury shares with Garrett Evangelical Theological Seminary in Evanston. The exams are “open resource,” meaning we can use any books, internet sources, and/or articles to help us answer the questions. I figured why take them at home when I could get out of town for a few days and take them in a beautiful environment with all the resources I could need? It’s always delightful when a plan works out the way you hope it will. The final exam was yesterday afternoon, and I went to this week’s taping of NPR’s Wait Wait, Don’t Tell Me as a congratulatory gift to myself. That was a whale of a time, and now I’m exploring Chicago a little bit this morning before taking my train back home this afternoon.
A few times this week, my Lyft drivers, restaurant servers, or baristas would start conversation and realize I’m not a local. They’d ask what brought me to Chicago, and perhaps many of my clergy colleagues would’ve simply said, “a work trip,” but my excitement for this milestone inspired me to say some version of, “I’m here taking ordination exams. I am studying to become a priest.”
I was pleasantly surprised how people responded. There are plenty of people out there who are ambivalent about priests at best, suspicious and rude at worst. But the people I encountered this week reminded me how much people are searching for meaning by whatever name.
I suppose I am lucky this disclosure didn’t go sideways, granting me a rant from a stranger. Instead, I was met with curiosity and support in those momentary conversations. The young barista passing me my coffee said, “I am catching the vision. You have good priest vibes.”
Coffee with a side of vocational validation? Yes, please.
Last night, I had a long ride with a Lyft driver. We chatted on and off, and I eventually shared my reason for being in Chicago. He was curious about how I could become a priest as a woman, and I told him some of the ways the Episcopal Church differs from the Catholic Church. He said he believes in God, but not in organized religion because it’s too harmful. I validated that perspective, saying I too had felt and witnessed the church’s harm. He said, “God is supposed to be for everyone.” He told me about his transgender sibling who was desperate to find a place to practice their religious beliefs and finally found one after a long time of being turned away. I told him about how Barbara Brown Taylor talks about religious expression as a language. God is language itself. None of us would say “I speak language,” but we would say “I speak English” or “I speak Spanish.” Likewise, Christianity is but one language used to speak of the divine.1 He was quite a moment before saying, “That’s beautiful.” Thanks, BBT.
Today I dropped off my bags at the hotel before going out. I said something to the bellman about not wanting to lug my book-laden suitcase to the station after walking around all morning, and he asked me if I was an athlete. (One has to wonder… was he even looking at me???) After a loud laugh, I said, “No, no… I just have been away from home all week and can’t be bothered anymore.” He said, “Do you mind if I ask you what you do, then?” I said, “Well, actually, I’m studying to become a priest.”
His eyes grew wide and he said, “You’re called to preach!” It wasn’t a question. It was recognition. I said “Yeah. …I am!” He continued with his observations. “You’ve known for a long time,” and again, “You preach. You tell people about God.”
We talked awhile about the nature of God, and he told me what he believes about God’s presence in our lives. Then his voice softened as he asked, “Do you ever feel God?”
I said, “Yeah, sometimes I do. Often when I’m in nature.”
He said, “Yeah. Me too. I feel God.” And again, with excitement, “You’re a preacher!”
I thanked him and made my way to the door, hearing him continue to talk to himself about the Holy Spirit as the distance grew between us.
Maybe with time and as I grow into the role, I will be less forthcoming about being a priest. I suspect I will be careful on family vacations and solo retreats not to put myself in a position where I’ll get stuck in a conversation that I don’t want to have. I’ve learned to not tell my seat mate on an airplane that I’m a chaplain because that almost always leads to a long flight listening to them talk about the significant events in their life.
And yet, this calling is more than a job. It’s called a vocation for a reason; I’ve come to feel confident naming the fact that inhabiting the role of a pastor is something intrinsic to who I am as a person. I imagine there will be times I just can’t help it. I think of Father Jud in the new Knives Out mystery, Wake Up Dead Man. Fr. Jud is trying to go about his work when the woman he’s talking to recognizes him for who he is: someone to trust, offer comfort, and see her in the midst of her need.
That is the kind of priest I hope to be.
The juxtaposition of my ordination exams, these conversations with strangers, and Renee Good’s murder in Minneapolis have me feeling the weight and privilege of this calling. What is my work to do in times like these? I believe my primary responsibility is to the local community in my care; that is where I preach, teach, and offer comfort most of the time. But I wonder, too, how I will operate as a priest in the wider world and online? How do I bear witness to the hope of the Gospel, that all shall be well, when the world is on fire?
It likely has a lot to do with putting one foot in front of the other, one day at a time. I am grateful for encouraging colleagues and peers, for how we walk alongside each other in a shared commitment to bear witness to God’s presence and action in the world.
My bellman was tickled that I am called to preach, and his joy became my joy this morning. But he also shared his conviction that all Christians are called by God to do good in the world. I said, “Yes! That is our baptismal covenant!” which is the real sign I’ve been deep in the weeds of Episcopal ordination exams. One does not usually just say “baptismal covenant” in the wild to non-Episcopalians. (But maybe we should!)
He seemed to catch my drift, though. In baptism, we all share this identity and calling to be God’s good news.
In the years since my faith has evolved to be a more progressive counterpart to the church I grew up in, I have noticed a reluctance in myself to be a Christian in public. Not out of shame, but out of fear that I have to explain which kind of Christian I am. It has become such a loaded term, and people do not immediately have good feelings about others who identify themselves as religious. The suspicion is well founded.
However, the closer I get to my ordination, the more I’ve set this fear aside. A few years ago, I said that my goal for my 30s was to make teenage Janette proud. I meant that for how I dress, what hobbies I enjoy, and how I spend time with my friends. Little did I know that before ending this decade, it would involve how I proclaim my faith too. This time, however, I won’t use “true love waits” bumper stickers and Jesus Saves t-shirts to make my faith visible. But it is true that, more and more, I am loudly living my faith as I did then. And rather than try to qualify with words what sort of Christian I am, I hope my life itself is a witness to the inclusive, loving, just, and merciful God I believe is revealed to us in Jesus Christ.
I give thanks for a vocation that allows me the privilege of walking alongside others endeavoring to do the same.
Peace to you all on such a heavy week. Sadly, it’s hard to imagine the year will get any lighter from here. Take heart knowing God draws near to the brokenhearted and offers comfort. May we be tangible signs of that comfort for one another.
With love and care,
Janette
Holy Envy, Barbara Brown Taylor
“I have noticed a reluctance in myself to be a Christian in public. Not out of shame, but out of fear that I have to explain which kind of Christian I am.” Yes to this — and to trusting that the lives we live share the gospel with our actions. Thanks for sharing your journey and your heart.
Thanks for sharing about your validating interactions! By the time I got to the bellman, I was crying happy tears.