My Wonderings

In my last post I introduced my experience of feeling disconnected to the church. I have received many responses from others who have had similar struggles. Many of these comments came from lay persons. What I am hearing in these comments is that the feeling of alienation from Mother Church is not a condition unique to the ordained. I hope those of you, lay or ordained, church or unchurched, who have a story of disconnection or alienation will share it with me and others on this blog. I welcome you as a guest writer. Please send me an email letting me know of your interest. If you would like be published anonymously, that is fine with me. Sometimes, especially in the church, it is wise to be discreet. I only hope one would make anonymity an exception rather than the rule. After all, ‘we’re only as sick as our secrets.’ As for me, I am going to continue to share my personal experiences of alienation from my own perspective; one that I have found some understanding of it through the “setting apart” that occurs with ordination.

As I stated in “Houston, We Have A Problem,” I believe that the status quo of traditional communication does not enable deep or consistent connections. The irony, of course, is that the extraordinary way that the Episcopal Church, with her liturgies and sacraments, had sustained my connection to God, was one of the main reasons I accepted the call to ordained ministry. When my family and I left home for seminary, we became enveloped in a new but temporary community — that of the student body. But forces were in play that would inevitably alter my connectedness to a local community of faith.

Seminarians typically feel alienated from their home parishes and dioceses because they are geographically estranged for the three years they are attending divinity school. They often experience theological estrangement because they are being exposed to a level of critical thinking that shatters previously held worldviews. Most have had to sever the financial security of former careers. And as anyone who has left behind a former professional role to return to school as a student knows, all too well, one easily loses a sense of one’s own competence and “sense of adulthood.”

My diocese recognized parts of this pattern and attempted to alleviate the problem by developing programs and policies to stay connected and supportive to their “ordinands.” None of them worked. For example, we were assigned to one of the three bishops so we could have a point of contact with a “chief pastor” of the diocese. Even though I was lucky enough to be assigned to the warmest, friendliest bishop I have ever known, the late Leo Alard, I only saw him on an informal, personal basis a few times. At some point, the Commission on Ministry (a group of people who charged to evaluate and then recommend to the bishop whether a person should continue to the next stage of the ordination process) decided they needed to stay more closely connected to the candidates. So the commission assigned one of its members to be a “special buddy” to every student. There were lots of reasons this connection was ineffective. One, most didn’t take the time to develop authentic trusting relationships with their ‘protege.’ Second, the foundation of the relationship was based on evaluation and, ultimately, judgment. It was a power relationship that did not endear the seminarian to be forth-coming with much.

At another point, the Standing Committee (a totally separate group of people from the Commission on Ministry, but also charged with evaluating and making judgment on ordination) decided that they too needed to be more connected to each individual “in their care.” I was told of my new “friend” via a form letter. Needless to say, this didn’t alleviate any sense of disconnection from my standpoint as a seminarian. In fact, by this point, I started to wonder if it was better for me to feel disconnected to ‘Mother‘ and stay as far away from her dangerously clueless ways. So I became determined to stick out this time of free-falling alone, under the radar of base camp.

Finally, graduation arrived and soon to follow, the day of ordination. I was looking forward to reconnecting with my faith family of origin. I imagined a return to the hearth, reuniting to the mutuality of former relations, to the community where I could trust the connections to be strong, safe and supportive. Little did I know, that the evaluation process was not over by any stretch of the imagination. Thus the power differential with representatives of the diocese would continue to create uneasy connections. And my connections with my former faith family — well there’s no such thing as going home.

I’ve become a social media evangelist. Like any good evangelist, I’m passionate about the message. I testify every where I go — to everyone I meet — about the life changing power of new media. Many don’t take my message very seriously. They don’t understand that it will change the way we communicate. Some do ‘get it’ but are invested in keeping the status quo of old media methods. Some don’t understand why we need to change the way we communicate. They don’t see anything broken. They don’t see any problem that needs to be fixed.

So I’m going to explain my own problem with the status quo. “Old” media doesn’t enable easy, strong connections. Ever since I became “officially” connected to the diocese of Texas via my ordination (and prior to that, the process leading up to it,) I have experienced a profoundly alienated condition of being disconnected to “the Church.” In a way that is difficult for me to fully understand, much less to articulate, once I became a ‘professional religious’ person, the locus of “the Church” shifted from the parish level to the diocesan and national levels. As a clergy of the parish I had become an ‘other’ of my local faith community; it wasn’t a location where I could let my hair down, put my feet on the coffee table, share my most difficult struggles and receive support and encouragement from peers.

In this context  I am defining “peers” as those people who have no psychological need to project their faith struggles on me because I am not fulfilling the role of the priest for them (little transference). I am in no way implying different levels of faith development. This is strictly defined in relation to my ‘role’ as a priest. So, peers are those who connect to me primarily as “Sarah,” the person behind the collar. These are the people who don’t hesitate telling an irreverent story in my presence because they don’t “see” a priest. These are the people who don’t delight in telling an irreverent story in my presence just to see the reaction of a priest.

Peers in my faith community are able to listen to my doubts about prayer or the resurrection or the presence of God and hear the voice of a fellow believer and not lose confidence in a spiritual authority. Peers in my faith community are able to listen to my difficulty to like, much less love, certain people in my parish, and hear the voice of a fellow human and not feel betrayed by a pastoral authority. The compelling need for clergy to find a peer faith community has led to the popularity of clergy support groups.

Paradoxically, those who are sufficiently detached from one’s role as a priest that they are capable of providing this supportive connection, are often people with whom it is very difficult to connect. Most clergy don’t live or work in close proximity to one another. And working in the church breeds an institutionalism that becomes all-consuming and challenging for clergy to turn outward, outside the parish where one would have the greatest opportunity to find the connection of their peers. In other words, as important as clergy support is to the spiritual health of the minister, developing and maintaining those relationships is difficult. It takes a lot of effort — of a lot of communication.

Once-a-month clericus gatherings (clergy within a region of the diocese) are not enough. For many, these gatherings are so “forced” and “unnatural” that they feel dread, not comfort at attending. The establishment of mutual trust and bonding that is required for effectively supportive groupings are beyond the current system’s ability. Bi-annual clergy conferences are not enough. There are too many competing agendas during these meetings anyway to set aside time for quality fellowship.

I’ve experienced several powerful support groups where there was mutual trust and bonding. One of the first was as a pilgrim on Cursillo, a unique and intense spiritual 3-day retreat. Other experiences include staffing Cursillo, Happening and Kairos. These weekends are carefully designed to create these bonds. I’ve known this level of community in Clinical Pastoral Education groups as an intern and as a resident and through leading youth mission trips to the Appalachia with Mountain T.O.P. One of strongest experiences I had with support groups was during my 30-day stint at Hazeldon Treatment Center. The common denominator among all these experiences is an environment that deliberately (manipulatively?) forces such stress and pressure on the participants that they are forced to drop their natural defenses and cling to one another regardless of unnatural groupings. It’s a cheater’s method of group dynamics. This is NOT the kind of environment I am desiring. For one thing, I am advocating for connections that take the edge off stress, not add to it. Secondly, these easy-bake groups don’t live long outside the environment. Unless, there is a natural affinity that coincides in the group assignment.

To summarize so far:

• The problem with the status quo of the way we communicate is that it doesn’t enable easy, strong connections.
• I am one clergy person who feels disconnected from the Church.
• Church “work” makes it difficult to connect outside the parish life.
• Half-hearted attempts to enable support groups have been lame and ineffective.
• Manipulating stress environment produces quick but short-term bonds that do not last.

The advent of social media technology provides an opportunity to enable these connections. Groups are now able to form easily, along affinity lines. The Church at the diocesan and national level should facilitate these connections because that is part of the job. Just as the parish priest has a pastoral responsibility to create a community that supports a parishioner’s spiritual growth, so does the bishop and presiding bishop have a pastoral responsibility toward the clergy.

As easy as group-forming has become, I believe that the process should be initiated at the diocesan and national level because so many leaders in the church are unaware of the possibilities that now exist. These applications are so new that there is a learning curve  for non-techies that without a resource might thwart the motivation to adopt new methods.  And finally, the very institutional processes that make maintaining the status quo so sticky require strong leadership to become ‘unstuck.’

My seminary professor, Charlie Cook, always told us that the real Vestry Meeting took place afterward in the parking lot. It didn’t take me long to realize, once again, the truth and wisdom of another Charlie-ism. After the meeting is adjourned, people gather and say what they really think about the agenda. Thoughts are shared that were not expressed earlier because of any number of reasons. Maybe they didn’t want to be the only one to appear contrary. Or maybe they were confused and didn’t want to appear clueless. Sometimes, it might be because the person didn’t feel that their opinion would be heard in the meeting anyway or that they could influence the discussion with the previously gathered group.

Whatever the motivation or motivations behind this dynamic, the point is that many times the most critical conversations take place beyond the “official” setting of the conference room. What Charlie was not able to anticipate in his caution was that the parking lot would eventually extend into the virtual realm of the World Wide Web. But the power of social media and web 2.0 has proven to be a game changer. And it would be foolish and shortsighted for the Church to ignore this phenomena.

“Social media refers to activities, practices, and behaviors among communities of people who gather online to share information, knowledge and opinions using conversational media” (Safko & Brake). Web 2.0 refers to recent technologies developed on the web that enable average computer users to interact with one another easily and cheaply. One year ago, I only used my computer as a word processor and to occasionally research a topic to settle an argument with my husband . Today, I connect with long lost friends on Facebook, I meet fellow like-minded Anglicans all over the world on Twitter and I publish my thoughts and experiences, however un-extraordinary or un-clever they may be, on this blog to be read by anyone that has an internet connection. Today, I use my computer to engage others.

It is the ability to engage others, parishioners and seekers, that are meeting on the virtual church parking lot that makes learning about and participating in social media worth every Church leader’s time and energy. No one could argue that one of the primary purposes of the Church is to communicate; we are in the business of spreading the Word. Today, we can proclaim beyond the spheres of the pulpit, tracts, newsletters and even e-mail. From the first days of the Church’s existence, she organized in order to bear one another’s burdens, comfort and care for those in the community, and strive to solve social ills. Today, we can collaborate beyond geographical, financial, and organizational barriers of the past. We can exercise the ministry of teaching and counsel to more people and in more dynamic ways. And as anyone who has seen a LOLcats picture can testify, we can have fun doing it.

Businesses are scrambling to learn how to utilize these technologies to benefit their profit margins and there are a gazillion examples of successful social media campaigns. There are also a number of cases that demonstrate how social media can be harmful and destructive to the reputations of both products and people . Social media is the proverbial two-edged sword. But like fire, water, and the Holy Spirit, it is unwise to ignore it just because you don’t understand how to embrace it.

In The Social Media Bible, the authors provide a series of self-assessment questions for the business manager. I have adapted these questions for clergy:

Social Media Inside Your Parish:

• Would committees and guilds in your parish be more effective if they could communicate more quickly and precisely with one another?
• Would committees and guilds in your parish be more productive if they were able to work in a more collaborative environment?
• Could parish community life be improved by increasing the fun quotient?
• Could discipleship training and development be improved?
• Are your parishioners fully engaged in the mission of your Church?

Social Media Directed Outside Your Parish:

• Do you have a strong relationship with your neighborhood/town community?
• Do you know public names, preferences, and needs as they relate to your evangelistic and outreach goals?
• Do you know public feelings about your parish, the Episcopal Church or Christianity in general?
• Have you ever asked the public to tell you of opportunities through which you could provide hospitality or service to the town?
• Would the town welcome an opportunity to help you grow?
• Are there activities in your parish that would provide amusement or entertainment for the public?
• Do you currently do anything to educate the public about the programs offered in your parish?
• Would the public respond positively to an opportunity to learn more about the Episcopal Church?
• If asked, would the average parishioner strong recommend your parish to a friend?
• Do many of your parishioners strongly recommend your parish?

Many people have been wondering with me about the purpose of Twitter. The Rev. Chuck Culpepper, of MS, likened it to the CB Radio of the Millenium; just a platform that allows many people to broadcast to many people. And it is that; but so much more. Back in the “BreakerBreakerGoodBuddy” days of old, one had to find a channel that was both static-free and one that your friends or others of value to you were also utilizing. With Twitter, static distraction is eliminated. Because of the search function, the number of available Twitter “channels” is equivalent to the total possible permutations of keys on the keyboard (letter/number/symbol.) Plus, there is no limit imposed by physical distance to a signal tower. Take a moment to wrap your brain around the implications! From anywhere in the world, anybody with internet access and a computer or smart phone can come together and have a conversation in real time. The only thing missing in Twitter (and I’m sure that will soon be resolved) is translating languages to your preference.

Those of us following the Episcopal Church General Convention 2009 created a “channel” entitled #ecgc. The acronym was for Episcopal Church General Convention. The # symbol is called a hashtag in twitter and it is used to indicate that this particular permutation of keystrokes is a deliberate combination formed for a specific group to track a conversation. We immediately realized that there were a few other streams of conversation about the convention being made so we formed a hub to gather all these streams together. Thus, the “Twub” was created at www.twubs.com/ecgc. This was a godsend for me; I didn’t have to remember to use my hashtag when I sent a message because it automatically added it for me. I could see the thumbprints of the pictures, videos and webpages that were linked with people’s messages without having to open the link at all. This made it easy to filter what I wanted to explore further. I could see a cool visual of our developing internet community through a grid of the faces/image associated with each Twitter account.

You may be wondering about the tweeps (people) who were part of this gathering. There were clergy and lay, conservative and liberal, young (20s) and not-so-old (60s), gay and straight, lovers of TEC and haters of TEC, attendees of convention and at-home folk like me. It was (go-figure) a gathering made up of folk much like the church! On the first day, we had a slam of porn spam that would have turned a blue-haired white. But that was quickly resolved by the Twub company who were probably more horrified and shocked than us Episcopalians! And we did have a “troll” try to impersonate “815″ but he or she was quickly exposed and we all campaigned to have that account terminated. If anything, that troll only accomplished bonding our group of disparate Anglicans together during a very contentious week.

And I know (from the many tweets of others) that I am speaking for many people when I say that there have been a lot of transformative moments in our little byte of the Twitterverse. Personally, I had an extraordinary exchange with a fellow priest from the diocese of TX who is a conservative greatly fearing the direction this convention is taking. We shared our stories, albeit in little 140 character chapters at at time. And in our exchange, I was healed a little bit more from some old wounds.

I witnessed folk ask for forgiveness when emotions got the best of them. I witnessed the previously uncomforted assure the previously comfortable that there would always be a warm welcome offered. I witnessed our group self-regulate by calling someone out when their tone became snarky. The group self-corrected when inaccurate information was given. The group collaborated when someone requested information that was not accessible to them. Our group self-organized with some folk volunteering to give play-by-play commentary for those without access to the GC HUB live feed. We even had internet DJs tweet dedicated song links to us. Some of our group were wondering if we could continue an online network of Episcopalians when convention concluded. To that I say: “That’s What I’m Talking About!!” Sign up at Episcopalians.pbworks.com to stay informed of our growing network.

And Warren, thanks for believing! Kurt and Joyce, thanks for making it happen. And to all my new friends: gideony, WhatOneCanDo, Kvoets, ktkimble, CarlosRAlvarado, scottagunn, JosephPMatthews, Liturgy, swancommarachel, gaytheologian, AuntScilly, bgclick, franklogue, davidrpeet, putmeinabox, GRobit625, loribythesea, FredinAtlanta, chaplain_mdiv10, mooregardening, Floridagordon, ktkimble, rrchapman, johnleesandiego, JeffreyShy, vagabondfaith, and a bunch more … thanks for being Church for me this week.

Our understandings of vocation as individual and corporate response to and expression of relationship with the living God move beyond a matter of compulsive obedience to superior order or an acquiescence to preordained determinism. As in any creative partnership, communication is central to the relationship, and it is vital to vocation and discernment. Commitment to mutuality in relationship entails commitment to a conversational imperative, a free, open disclosure of self to the other, without which intimacy cannot be sustained.

When I was growing up, children who tried to have a conversation with adults were often accused of back talk. Children had conversations with other children; those of equal status. Necessarily, if it was considered rude to talk back to adults, it would have been blasphemous to talk back to God in conversation. When I came of age to have a mature relationship with God, I was heavily influenced by evangelical and fundamental movements that emphasized prayer as what one did to try to understand God’s will for one’s life; for understanding the preordained determinism. My vocational call, then, was interpreted under these filters. I didn’t approach the discernment as a conversation, as a place where my will was valid, respected or relevant. Little wonder, I came to resent God and my vocation when the circumstances surrounding both became painful and difficult.

This conversational imperative is in lively evidence in the stories and lives of Moses and the prophets, of Jesus and Paul. In theirs and countless stories related in the scriptures, in Hebrew midrash and Christian patristic writing, in the witnesses of saints, in sermons and songs ancient and modern we experience this lively, living conversation among partners intimately caught up in and bound to committed relationship. . . .

God and I have been in a lively, living conversation for a while now. Ironically, it would be fair to describe my tone and attitude in this conversation as back talk, even insolent. But I suppose that is a necessary corrective to my earlier compulsive obedience. During this time away from the church, there was never much doubt in my mind that my faith was alive and well; even though, to many, it appeared lost or dead. My spiritual friends who were well versed in the stormy faith journeys of the patriarchs and saints were less concerned for my spiritual welfare.

Jesus was at pains to insist that he neither wanted nor had followers, but friends. “I have called you friends,” he explains to his disciples, “because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father” (John 15:15). Those who sought to learn from him would not copy his attitudes and behaviors, but would undertake the more difficult business of plumbing their own depths, exploring and embracing their own selves, and shouldering full responsibility for their very being. Or, as he famously expressed it, they would take up their own cross—a cross that was distinct from his.

This was the paragraph that made me stop and pause. As I read it, I had an “ah-hah” moment. Is that what these last five years have been about? Is this a plausible meaning for the aridity I have experienced in the sanctuary lately and finding connectedness and understanding only on the therapeutic couch? Is this why finding sobriety through Alcoholics Anonymous felt wrong for me in spite of the profound respect I have for the program? Is this why I needed to find sobriety solely based on my own will and responsibility for my behavior — to declare that I have power over choosing alcohol or not? Is my greatest spiritual struggle not in knowing God’s embrace but in coming to embrace myself?

This learning process, this discipleship, is dynamic and subject to constant variation, consistent with any relationship between and among living beings. . . . The process of daily, constant learning about self and one’s world is a demanding discipleship and the central activity of discernment. Understood this way, we see that any so-called discipleship that obscures or escapes such learning is not worthy of the name; it is just evasion, denial, busyness, and distraction, and ultimately, destructive dishonesty. True discipleship not only dirties the hands, it breaks the heart, opens the mind, and stretches the nerves, as all good learning does. Yet, paradoxically, it is this very dangerous conversation that constitutes the core of discipleship and the intimate heart of relationship with God.

From Transforming Vocation by Sam Portaro, a volume in the series Transformations: The Episcopal Church of the 21st Century, edited by James Lemler. Copyright © 2008. Used by permission of Church Publishing Incorporated, New York, NY. www.churchpublishing.org