"Rush Week"
I’ve officially made it through what felt like my first rush week—the ministerial one that is: Holy Week. I now understand why Easter Monday for pastors is often called bedside Monday. Even though I got to play the student card for the very last time and get out of the 3 hour round trip to my church for the Maundy Thursday service, I did spend Friday through Sunday afternoon in Goldsboro, NC and participated in three worship services, preaching twice and helped with the Easter children’s festivities on Saturday afternoon. While I was glad to have a place to be this Easter season, to say that it was exhausting would be an understatement! I want to relay some of the highlights…
Friday night, especially, was an out of body, strange experience. Six other ministers beside me were charged with the task of speaking about one of the seven last words of Jesus in a community service. (To relive all the joy of the “Wounded Healer” Retreat I helped to lead this fall, I did the words directed to the Beloved Disciple: “Woman, here is your son.”) All the other ministers were Methodists from area churches. Surprisingly I was not the only woman in the program (yet I was the only person under the age of 45).
When the others found out that I was a student, I received the typical exchange I endure in UMC circles: “What Methodist conference are you from?” and when I answered the two dreadful words into such a crowd: “I’m Baptist.” The entire tone of the group changed. Some gasped. Then, the District Superintendent began giving me the “You’re never going to find a pulpit as a Baptist” speech. I brushed him off and began talking to the other women in the room. They were very nice, but neither of them had gone to seminary. Within the Methodist system, if you reach a certain age, you can apply to be a local pastor and attend a local seminary as you have time to earn what is called your “Course of Study.” While I deeply admire the courage of these women (and the men in the room who were also on this track), it put me in a weird place to think that all of these people have what I desperately want: the regular opportunity to preach and are ordained and haven’t even been to seminary. Life is not fair, but I’ve already learned that lesson time and time again.
The hilarious part about the Good Friday service was the fact that I felt like a member of the Supreme Court as I processed in with all the other pastors all wearing black robes. As a child who did not grow up in a high church tradition, it was a strange moment not only to be wearing a robe myself but be sitting on a pew with six other pastors. There was so much holiness in the TWO hours that I stayed on that pew.( I’m sure I was “glowing” by time the service was over.) But, seriously, the experience was affirming in itself, knowing that I could hold my own just fine among preachers almost all twice my age.
The other special moment of the weekend was the reactions I got after I preached the community Easter Sunrise service. Based on the lectionary text from Mark 16 about the resurrection, I talked about the unexpected good news that was found at the tomb that morning. Unique to this gospel account, the only individuals to get the word about the resurrection were three women. So what did I talk about? The women and how unexpected it was for God to use the lowliest of the lowly to bring such great news to the world. But, little did I know that sticking to the gospel text would cause me to be accused of being a feminist by an individual in the crowd. I really think the older men had a hard time with me being a position of authority because of a group of them later misconstrued an illustration I gave about the women at the tomb saying that I called all women “gossipers” when I said that a group of women are usually “planners.” It was a total stretch trying to make their gender look better. When really the whole point was not about women at all…
Anyway, all in all it was an eventful weekend. I think that if there was any doubt that I was in the ministerial club Holy Week showed me I made it despite the fact that I’m a female and not 40 yet. Oh, the joys of weekends filled with church… only Easter could bring one with as much excitement.
My roommates just proofread this blog for me and said "You wrote a whole blog about Holy Week and said nothing about resurrection and instead wrote about your bitterness as a woman." I hadn't thought about it like that, but if you too read this blog that way know that you are present a moment of my venting. . . By the way, I think the resurrection is really cool.
Friday night, especially, was an out of body, strange experience. Six other ministers beside me were charged with the task of speaking about one of the seven last words of Jesus in a community service. (To relive all the joy of the “Wounded Healer” Retreat I helped to lead this fall, I did the words directed to the Beloved Disciple: “Woman, here is your son.”) All the other ministers were Methodists from area churches. Surprisingly I was not the only woman in the program (yet I was the only person under the age of 45).
When the others found out that I was a student, I received the typical exchange I endure in UMC circles: “What Methodist conference are you from?” and when I answered the two dreadful words into such a crowd: “I’m Baptist.” The entire tone of the group changed. Some gasped. Then, the District Superintendent began giving me the “You’re never going to find a pulpit as a Baptist” speech. I brushed him off and began talking to the other women in the room. They were very nice, but neither of them had gone to seminary. Within the Methodist system, if you reach a certain age, you can apply to be a local pastor and attend a local seminary as you have time to earn what is called your “Course of Study.” While I deeply admire the courage of these women (and the men in the room who were also on this track), it put me in a weird place to think that all of these people have what I desperately want: the regular opportunity to preach and are ordained and haven’t even been to seminary. Life is not fair, but I’ve already learned that lesson time and time again.
The hilarious part about the Good Friday service was the fact that I felt like a member of the Supreme Court as I processed in with all the other pastors all wearing black robes. As a child who did not grow up in a high church tradition, it was a strange moment not only to be wearing a robe myself but be sitting on a pew with six other pastors. There was so much holiness in the TWO hours that I stayed on that pew.( I’m sure I was “glowing” by time the service was over.) But, seriously, the experience was affirming in itself, knowing that I could hold my own just fine among preachers almost all twice my age.
The other special moment of the weekend was the reactions I got after I preached the community Easter Sunrise service. Based on the lectionary text from Mark 16 about the resurrection, I talked about the unexpected good news that was found at the tomb that morning. Unique to this gospel account, the only individuals to get the word about the resurrection were three women. So what did I talk about? The women and how unexpected it was for God to use the lowliest of the lowly to bring such great news to the world. But, little did I know that sticking to the gospel text would cause me to be accused of being a feminist by an individual in the crowd. I really think the older men had a hard time with me being a position of authority because of a group of them later misconstrued an illustration I gave about the women at the tomb saying that I called all women “gossipers” when I said that a group of women are usually “planners.” It was a total stretch trying to make their gender look better. When really the whole point was not about women at all…
Anyway, all in all it was an eventful weekend. I think that if there was any doubt that I was in the ministerial club Holy Week showed me I made it despite the fact that I’m a female and not 40 yet. Oh, the joys of weekends filled with church… only Easter could bring one with as much excitement.
My roommates just proofread this blog for me and said "You wrote a whole blog about Holy Week and said nothing about resurrection and instead wrote about your bitterness as a woman." I hadn't thought about it like that, but if you too read this blog that way know that you are present a moment of my venting. . . By the way, I think the resurrection is really cool.
posted by Musings @ 7:25 PM
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