Waking Up with Mount Rainier

This picture was taken last Wednesday by Christie Galan. Apart from taking gorgeous pictures with her cell phone, Christie is the office manager at First Pres where I did my internship last year and we are “facebook friends”. I know that I will always compare who ever I work with in a church with her smiling Zen efficiency.

When not hidden by an overcast weather, Mount Rainier is so scenic – even after 10 years living in its neighborhood, I am still fascinated…

(Feel free to click on the picture to see it better)

Three Chaplains, One Coyote

An interview with a chaplain is an odd place. Of course, it looks like a job interview – after all, this is about being hired for a paid internship, the very desirable residency starting in September I applied for. But the conversation also comes close to the dialogue one would have with a therapist. The chaplain tries to find out what self-knowledge you have and if you are willing to explore and discern more. When you get into a patient’s room, you should be aware of your own baggage and deep motivation.

On Monday afternoon, I had long conversations with three chaplains of Saint Joseph hospital. Three consecutive interviews later, I was feeling good as I was walking back to my car on the hilltop of Tacoma – almost euphoric. It went well, in a warm, relax atmosphere, I felt appreciated… I was experiencing a prudent sense of optimism. Then I found out that there were only 3 or 4 spots and that St Jo’s students from previous internships would be picked first.

In other words, this is not a done deal. But let’s not get discouraged. Early on the next morning, as I was going to work, a coyote crossed right in front of the car. I did not have time to take a picture but that was a young beautiful animal, with a fluffy tail, just like the picture below. It turned around several times before vanishing in the wood – puzzled maybe (“what, a human around here?”) Irvin smiled when I told him about it. He was taught to respect coyotes. “It’s a good omen” he said. We will see… I will know about the internship sometime in February.

N400

It is time. N400 and I have been considering each other for some years already. Year after year, I make promises… It is time to face the challenge.

N400 is the application for American citizenship. Since 1999, I have been an alien – I just love how sci-fi / galactic that sounds!

First I was an alien student, then I became a legal alien, complete with a green card – this white and fascinating plastic card. If you put it under a lamp, you discern holograms on it. It is valid until 2016 but it is time to do this. 2012 will be my American year.

There are good sensible reasons: I intend to keep living in this country and I may lose my residency status if I stay for a long time in France. The laws about aliens may become more restrictive. But my true motive comes from the presidential elections later in the year. I want to vote.

So I dowloaded N400 and started filling it. Some questions are complex: how many days have I spent abroad since I became a resident? I have to write down the precise date for each trip since 2003.

Have I ever been part of, or associated with any associations, foundations, clubs, society? Well, I am a member of Toastmaster International. Should I mention the Presbyterian church? Neither are that subversive, and at the next line, I deny ever belonging to the Communist Party, any totalitarian party or a terrorist organization.

I also deny being a prostitute, a “habitual drunkard” or having worked or associated with any Nazi groups, military or paramilitary unit, extermination or concentration camp. I never had more than one husband at a time. I never committed any crime – even crimes for which I would not have been arrested. I can without hesitation say “no” to all those questions – and I am not making anyone up. I should have the moral character to be American.

I should also demonstrate through an exam that I have a sufficient knowledge of the constitution of the United States. And if everything goes well, I will take the full oath of allegiance to the United States. I will not lose my French nationality thanks to a convention between the two countries.

2012 is going to be a great year…

2012 – Resolution Day!

My first resolution, in this brand new 2012 year, is to… reconnect with my blog. I was thinking I posted my last message a couple of weeks ago. What, it was three months ago??? Where did Fall 2011 go?

In any case, 2012 is indeed here, and here I am, facing the immense perplexity of a future that can take so many different shapes. On November 2, the committee in preparation for ministry certified me “ready to receive a call”. That means that I went through all the steps to be a pastor, from the theological degree (both from the Institut Protestant de Theologie of Paris, France and Dubuque seminary – an eclectic pairing) to the internships in a church,  (Puyallup First Pres last year) then in a hospital chaplaincy this summer. There was also the psychological evaluation – where I found out I was an extravert – me, an emblematic introvert! And of course I had to pass those ordination exams.

So I am “certified ready”. But the ordination can only take place when I receive a call, either from a church or from a hospital if I become a chaplain. I feel pulled in both directions, which is eventually a good thing: opportunities in the Tacoma area are not that many, so I should get ready for both.

On the pastor side, I will go through the interim pastor training, a weeklong education. In the Presbyterian denomination, an interim pastor always steps in between pastors. The churches in our area have all ministers right now, but they will need an interim pastor one day or another.

And on the chaplain side, I applied for a residency (a yearlong paid internship) that would allow me to complete my training. This residency would start next September. An interview is scheduled in a week.

So here it is. I can’t help wondering if the doors in both directions might actually close before me, while our church situation stays precarious, and our denomination tears itself apart. More than ever, this is the time to keep in mind that we are in God’s hand. God will make the calls and lead in new directions…

To be followed… Meanwile, Happy New Year!

Of Gods and Men

This French movie is one of those unexpected success stories that no one saw coming. Who would run to the theatre to spend a couple of hours with monks in Algeria, monks in the midst of the civil war that took place in the 1990s, monks who decided to stay in their monastery anyway and eventually were murdered? An incredible amount of people did – as the movie introduces us to each of those men, their faith, their torments and doubts, their prayers. Although the violence and tension grew around them, their inner peace increased also as they felt their mission in the midst of the terrorized villagers was not over.

They were aware their situation was precarious – the very root of the word prayer from Latin, as a book written by Michael Lonsdale (who interpreted Brother Luc) explains[1]. In this book, Michael commented on his experience in this movie. He was told when he started acting “as an actor, you will confide in the world about who you are more than you ever will in your personal life”. He felt this was never as true than in this role.

 “Why be martyrs? One of the monks feverishly asked Christian, the leader of the small community.  For God ? To be heroes ? To prove we’re the best ?”

“No, no, no… Christian answers. We are martyrs out of love, out of fidelity. If death overtakes us it will be despite ourselves. Up to the end, we’ll try to avoid it. Our mission here is to be brothers to all… Remember that love is eternal hope…. Love endures everything. »

The monks were taken then killed in circumstances that were never fully understood. I have heard said “sometimes God calms the storm. Sometimes God calms us in the midst of the storm.” The serenity of those men as danger came ever closer surpasses our human understanding. The movie offers us to share this peace, this peace we all crave, through those limpid images.

Being a martyr is first being a witness. Both words come from the same Greek root, martus. Through this movie, the journey of the monks of Tibhirine inspires us and become ours.

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[1] Michael Lonsdale, “Prière”, conversation with Jacques Bonnadier, Editions Onesime, p.20

The lamas are in the yard.

Our area still has a rural side and it is always an unexpected pleasure to pass animals on the streets you were not expecting to see. For instance, lamas in a big yard not far from the church – I was on my way for Bible women study when I stopped to take pictures of them. The closest lama did not condescend to turn his head in my direction but his ears kept following any noise I was making. Another day, we met a peacock. Of course, sometimes we see deers or coyotes crossing but they are too fast for my camera.

This summer, one very early morning, I saw from our house, on the other side of the street, a big raccoon who was slowing going away. He kept turning back and looking at a gathering of crows that seemed to be feasting on something. I wondered if he got excluded. Maybe the fauna around here is a merciless world…

Blind and yet discerning

So I was preaching on Sunday – Irvin came back late on Saturday night from Phoenix, Arizona where he taught an Introduction to New Testament class to a group of lay leaders. I always take advantage of such circumstances to snatch up an opportunity to preach…

I chose a text from the Gospel of Mark, where Jesus heals Bartimaeus, the blind beggar, in the last verses of chapter 10 (10:46-52). This text shows us a man deprived of his sight but more aware of what is going on than anyone else around. This encounter is the counterpart of the meeting that opens the chapter 10: the dialogue between Jesus and the rich young man who refuses to follow him because he cannot part with his wealth.  

Bartimeaus calls Jesus “son of David”, a messianic title that no one else uses in the Gospel of Mark. He does not hesitate to throw his cloak aside so he can reach Jesus as fast as he can, in the midst of a crowd so without much hope of ever finding it again. His cloak – probably the only protection this beggar had against the cold Mid-Eastern nights… And when Jesus eventually told him “go”, Bartimeaus instead chose to follow the one who just saved him.

Indeed, Bartimeaus has a lot to teach us on perspicacity in the midst of darkness. I took it personally: I thought for an instant that I would not be able to read out loud the text of the Gospel, as the lines looked so small. Being unable to see when you are getting ready to explore a text about a blind man, this is true irony. This is time for me to stop hiding from the hard truth. I need glasses…