In a Holding Pattern

I feel the need to vent a little about a cyclical problem I'm having. It's going to take a little back story, so please be patient while I get to the current issue.

I began seminary in August 2005. At the time I called myself a "disgruntled Methodist." I was raised in the United Methodist Church and it was a wonderful place to grow up. My church of origin was full of love and support. However, as I began being introduced to new ideas and religious perspectives in college, my worldview and religious views began to morph and transform. The end result was that scholarly views of reading the Bible made more sense to me than an inerrant, infallible reading. Learning about Biblical stories in their historical context changed how I viewed them. They retained meaning, but with new depth built upon history, reason, and years of scholarly research. However, what I learned in school did not match what was/is taught in most Christian churches. Bishop John Shelby Spong wrote in his recent article for Huffington Post "The contrast between the way the Bible is understood in the academic world and the way it is viewed in our churches is striking." In my experience, this is very much true. I have found a spiritual connection in the academic world more so than in most churches.

But I digress...

After graduating from college, I spent a year in the work force doing a job that was a very poor fit. For those of you who know me well, imagine me sitting in a cube all day calculating numbers from various formulas. The primary person-to-person interactions I had with coworkers occurred when things went wrong. And I had a very conflict avoiding boss who would leave sticky notes on people's desks rather than talk to them face to face to resolve problems. What this did was inspire me to look ahead and try to find something better. I began applying to seminaries. I knew if I got in, I would be moving away from North Carolina as the four schools were in California, Colorado, New Jersey, and Georgia. The best fit by far was Claremont school of Theology in California. After hearing back from all the schools, I started at Claremont and began my education as "a disgruntled Methodist" as mentioned above.

What I mean by that phrase is, I still considered myself a part of my church of origin, but no longer felt it was a good fit. And when people asked me what church I belonged to, I felt the need to explain further. "I'm United Methodist, but..." For example, "I'm United Methodist, but I'm my church is against having openly gay clergy and I think that's wrong." That was the largest point of contention. But it was more than that. I found myself inspired by multiple religions and wanted a place where this concept was not only tolerated but accepted and encouraged. In seminary was where I met my first Unitarian Universalists. The more I learned over the years, the better a fit it seemed.

Here's more...

When I began my time at CST, I was in the Masters of Divinity (MDiv) program. When I began pastoral care classes, I sought to change my degree to an Master of Arts in Pastoral Care and Counseling. I spoke with the admissions counselor, who was the person I needed to go through in order to make this change. She strongly discouraged me from doing so. Her primary reason for trying to persuade me otherwise was that most faith groups required an MDiv for any type of ordination. One known exception was the United Methodist Church who required their ordained Deacons to have a masters degree, but not necessarily an MDiv.

Now here's where the problem really begins. Because of my headstrong, you-can't-tell-me-what's-best-for-me attitude, I changed degree programs anyhow. I reasoned that I did not feel called to ordination and that if I changed my mind or felt something different in the future, then I could become a UMC Deacon.

I continued in my degree program, taking the most remarkable classes from very interesting and intelligent professors. I embraced my first role as a Chaplain at Santa Monica UCLA Medical Center and Orthopedic Hospital. I learned so much about Chaplaincy and myself during that CPE internship. I went on to be a Pastoral Counseling Intern at The Clinebell Institute. Ultimately, I learned that pastoral care and chaplaincy was a better fit for me than formal counseling.

I completed my degree, having worked hard to more fully learn about pastoral care and counseling in my classes and experiences. I still did not feel a call to ordination. As graduation neared, I was searching desperately for a job. At that time, Dan came across a poster advertising a Hospice Bereavement Coordinator position in Palm Springs. I interviewed for the job, but did not get it. However, that experience led me the company that ultimately became my first hospice employer.

I officially went into to Chaplaincy and grew in my pastoral identity while caring for people in very emotional and heart-wrenching times. I gained confidence in my ability to be calm in the midst of chaos and to provide spiritual care for a people from various religious backgrounds. I have since worked at a second hospital through a CPE Residency Program and am currently working as a Hospice Chaplain and Bereavement Coordinator. The job, company, and my coworkers are an incredible fit. I feel like I am able to bring my education, experience, personality, and intuition to my job on a daily bases.

However, I am still not ordained. And I am now strongly feeling a call to become so. In the UUA, the process is called Fellowshipping, where I would be officially endorsed by our governing body.

But there are many obstacles. Which brings me to the present and the reason for this post in the first place. And because I like lists and they help me sort through things, here is my list of woe. (Dramatic aren't I?)

• The Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA) requires an MDiv or its educational equivalent for ordination/fellowshipping
• As stated above, I have an MA in Pastoral Care and Counseling rather than an MDiv, which is more of a problem than you'd think. In order to prove I have the educational equivalent, I would likely have to take classes online from one of the two UU seminaries which I currently cannot afford.
• The UUA also requires a church internship for ordination/fellowshipping
• As I mentioned, I have completed two internships and a residency in ministry. But I have not interned at a church.
• To get an internship at a church I would probably need to move because the only church locally is the one I am a member of, and I've been told (understandably) that I could not be an intern there because I am too connected and people could not be impartial toward me.
• To move, I would have to leave my current job which I love and get a significant level of satisfaction from.
• Moving would also take me away from my family, who were the big reason I moved to begin with.
  
• All this would be to gain the title of the Rev. Kelley Wheat-Rivers
• But the end result would be that I would want a job exactly like the one I already have and am loathe to leave.
• If something should happen to my current job or company, I would, of course need to pursue work elsewhere. And the fact is that most Chaplaincy positions require ordination/denominational endorsement. It just so happened that my current position did not.

That's the basis of it all. Do I leave my current job to pursue the steps to become ordained, all the while wanting a job like this one anyway?

And the final side of this (for now) is that in addition to all of the above, Dan and I both want to start a family in the near-ish future. But we currently can't afford to and if I pursue all of the above, it's going to push off us starting a family even longer. This is something I become more potently aware of each time I learn another friend is pregnant for the first and sometimes the second time.

So I feel stuck. And sad. I want to be fully embraced as clergy. As it is, even though I do ministry daily, I feel "less than" other ministers because of my lack of title. I don't feel like I should wear clergy collars or robes. I call myself a Chaplain, but am reluctant to introduce myself as a Minister. And I'm not fully connected in the UU Church like I want to be. I'm not fully supported or endorsed.

When I met with people from the Ordination Office of the UUA, they said people being landlocked was the biggest problem people had in moving forward with ministry aspirations. I certainly fit into that grouping. And truly, I get so overwhelmed by it all that it's difficult take the next step. Or even figure out what the next step is.

As of today I've contacted the Ministerial Credentialing Director Unitarian Universalist Association to see if we can talk via the phone or skype to figure out what my next step will be. I just hope that when the time comes for me to make a decision about what's next, I'll be able to do so...

Days of Awe

Yesterday in my Unitarian Universalist congregation, we honored the Jewish "Days of Awe" in our service. We learned about Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. I have been drawn to Judaism for years. Its history, both religiously and culturally are so steeped in tradition and it seems to strike a chord deep within me. One comment I've had about Judaism before is that focusing so much on tradition made it less relevant for changing people and cultures. I'm now singing "Tradition" from Fiddler on the Roof in my head. However, I have recently found many of the prayers and traditions I've learned extremely valuable and potently relevant. In fact, some seem so valuable that I wish they had more of a place in my life throughout the year.

I'm not an expert in Judaism, but here's what I've learned about the two holy days we honored. Rosh Hashanah is the beginning of the Jewish New Year. It's the time when the book of life is supposedly opened. In the time between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, people are supposed to ask for forgiveness for any hurt they have caused others. To use a much-Christianized phrase, it's a chance to represent from one's sins. It's a chance to apologize, make amends and ask for forgiveness from other people. And to do so deeply meaning it and intending to learn from one's mistakes. You're supposed to ask forgiveness of everyone you know because you never know who you may have unintentionally hurt or "sinned against." My minister addressed how loaded the word "sin" is and defined it like this: sin is when you do not treat all people as though they have inherent worth and dignity. Yom Kippur is the final day of this time and is when the Book of Life is supposedly closed and the people's names in it will be the ones who live through the next year.

This time is an opportunity for contemplation and deep personal reflection. A chance for each individual to strive to grow into a better person. The readings we recited together sparked thoughts of forgiveness - of others and ourselves. I wish I could put them all in this blog, but then no one would probably read it, because it would be incredibly long. As it is, I'm still going to type out a couple of them because I just think they were that incredible. They brought forth the reality that none of us are perfect (see my previous blog for the lesson I needed in this), that we all have the opportunity to try again. What the tradition in the Days of Awe do is give the opportunity for this to be recognized, acted upon, and embraced so that a new year of hope and second tries might be possible. A chance to learn from past mistakes and be intentional in one's effort to move forward.

Here is one of the readings we did, reading it aloud together as a congregation:

Let us acknowledge our faults and our failings together.
For the wrong we have done whether by intention or by mistake.
For the wrong we have done by failing to work for peace.
For the wrong we have done by keeping silent in the face of injustice.
For the wrong we have done by closing our ears to the poor and hungry.
For the wrong we have done by not making time for those who needed us.
For the wrong we have done by withholding our love from those who depend on us.
For the wrong we have done by distorting the truth for our own advantage.
For the wrong we have done by forgiving in ourselves what we condemn in others.
For the wrong we have done by forgiving in others what we condemn in ourselves.
For the wrong we have done by conforming to fashion and not to conscience.
For the wrong we have done in failing to fulfill the promise which is in us.
For all of these, God of forgiveness, forgive us, pardon us, help us atone. Teach us to forgive ourselves.

By far, the most emotionally stirring moment of the service for me was the time when we remembered those who have died in this last year. We once again read aloud together. At the end of each "Remember the soul of my beloved..." we paused while people in the congregation said aloud the names of their loved ones who died. For "beloved friends" I said Kim's name, the 26-year-old family friend who died from cancer earlier this year. For "beloved relatives", I said aloud "Rosemary", my aunt who died a year ago in August. Here's the full list of the beloveds that we remembered:

God, remember forever those dear to me who have gone to their eternal rest...

Remember the soul of my beloved father.
Remember the soul of my beloved mother.
Remember the soul of my beloved sister.
Remember the soul of my beloved brother.
Remember the soul of my beloved husband.
Remember the soul of my beloved wife.
Remember the soul of my beloved partner.
Remember the soul of my beloved daughter.
Remember the soul of my beloved son.
Remember the souls of my beloved friends.
Remember the souls of my beloved relatives.

May they be at one with God, who is life eternal. May the beauty of their lives shine for evermore and may my life always bring honor to their memory.

Following this moment, people were invited to come forward and light a candle for their deceased loved one. Normally, when we light candles for joys and sorrows, we sing together as a congregation in the background. But these candles were offered in sacred silence. I was choked up as I lit my two candles, but I went first to begin the ritual and then calm myself because I had a role in the service immediately following the candle lighting. I took deep breaths and watched the faces of those that came forward.

It's incredible to help facilitate worship services. One of the many reasons I love doing so, is being able to look out into the congregation and seeing the faces of those with whom I am sharing worship. This is even more the case when I watch the faces of those lighting candles. Each person with a story of their own, and, in this case, having experienced a loss. I was caught up in the sacred blessing the opportunity provided. I calmed down and felt prepared to lead the next part of the service.

That is until the final man came up to light a candle. He's a man in our congregation who is at the beginning stages of Alzheimer's. He knows enough to realize he's forgetting important things. There are holes in his memory that are holes in his personal identity. He lit his candle and turned to the congregation saying, "This is a candle for everyone I can no longer remember."

I lost it.

In my mind and heart rushed images of and feelings for both of my grandmothers whose minds were/are ravaged by Alzheimer's. And the future fear of my parents facing this dreaded disease. The images of my patients who have also had Alzheimer's swam in my mind. I was trying to choke down sobs as I rose to the pulpit with my minister and attempted to read the next part of the service. I couldn't do it. She took over and I was so grateful. I looked out in the congregation and saw others' tear-filled eyes looking back at me. We shared a beautiful, connecting moment.

The entire service was so special and meaningful. I feel so blessed and so tremendously grateful to be part of services like this. Services that honor other religious traditions that give my own faith meaning. Services with rituals that are spiritual and stir something deep inside me. The service, the readings, the connections, the preciousness of it all touched me to my core.

Today I received an email from my minister. In it, she wrote this, "Thank you for Sunday. It is always a pleasure sharing worship with you."

The feeling is mutual. I feel honored to share worship with all the people at my church. I can't express my gratitude enough. As the traditional Rosh Hashanah greeting says, "L'shana tovah!" which means "For a good year!" Blessings to you all!

Artful Connection

I spent the bulk of today at a friend's home. It is an incredible, beautiful, and sacred space. She is a fellow artist and Unitarian Universalist. Though over 30 years my senior, we share many of the same quirks and seem to have an inordinate amount of understanding of each other. I'm thrilled to be developing further connection.

The weather was extravagant today. October is my favorite month in my favorite Season. And today brought with it crispy air and bright sun. The only thing lacking was a bit of Fall foliage on the trees.

Here are a few images of my friend's amazing view:




I arrived at her home around 11:3o for our prearranged "Art Day!" Not only did I bring an obnoxious amount of art supplies (canvases, acrylics, watercolors, sketch pads, etc.) but also fruit, french bread, and individual chocolate mousse cakes. We spent a few hours talking to one another, with me also becoming acquainted with her various animals. We learned more about each others' histories and life stories. Our time together was so natural and comfortable. And I was able to paint using my newest acrylics! Many hours well spent today!

Here's an image of my latest painting:


The day was so spiritual and healing. Full of depth and connection. What a blessing. I feel incredibly grateful.