Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Creator and our Savior Jesus the Christ -
It's 6:28pm. In about an hour I'm going to take off to see my girlfriend in Eagan. It's quiet in my little 546-square-foot apartment at Luther Seminary, and I'm hankering for an apple right now. I've got Corelli on in the background and I have an application essay on the screen. Letting it sit and settle for a bit before deciding on edits and changes.
I'm applying for a Fellowship. A Fellowship to Auschwitz for the Study of Professional Ethics (FASPE). It's basically a two-week intensive where students from the fields of medicine, law, journalism, and theology gather together at Auschwitz and other prominent Holocaust sites to discuss the pressing contemporary ethical issues affecting the people we serve through our chosen vocations. I think it would be an amazing experience that I would grow from as I continue down the path to ordination and rostered pastoral ministry. When I say this, I am aware that there's no guarantees. I still need to finish my application and doing some waiting, as decisions aren't emailed until February 1st. I'm competing with kids from Harvard and Yale, but I figure you don't stand a chance if you don't even try. I'm gonna go for it and see what happens!
I'm applying for a Fellowship. This feels like the first big thing I've done as, now, reluctantly, a man of the academy. There's a distinct tension there. Throughout my seminary career, I've felt out of place. Coming to the cities, indeed, was a substantial culture shock. Take a kid from small town, rural southeastern Minnesota and transplant him into MSP and see how he does, really. I've always felt drawn back to home, to the farm. I get out of here every chance I can. I want nothing more than to serve in a rural context; be pastor to a small congregation. I'm noticing more and more, however, that my identities are becoming distinct. What I once was, a farm kid living in the country, is now being traded for and replaced by a man going to seminary in the cities who is finally learning what it means to follow God's call. I'm not sure how I feel about this, honestly. I claim my rural roots with all that I am, but somehow, I feel like being here in Lauderdale isn't being honest or authentic. I don't know if that made sense. It is what it is.
It won't necessarily change when I get out in the parish. We talk about "living into our pastoral identity", or whatever that's supposed to mean. When I get into my small rural church, I won't be knitted into the fabric of the community. I will be pastor. I will be "the other", one whose career is placed upon a pedestal and my perceived image along with it. That's the thing. I don't want that. I want to be a pastor, but I want to be real with people. I want to be able to swear and drink beer and hang out in the community as I do when I'm in Cannon Falls, at home. I identify so, so strongly with place and relationships, and it will be different to be in a role where I'm approachable, but where I have to place boundaries on friendships. In the parish, I can be friends, but I can't be your friend. The whole trust-power dynamic that plays into being a pastor, ya know?
"Living into pastoral identity". Does that mean growing to the point where you are always in your pastoral role? What will this mean for my girlfriend, Lauren? Am I as much a pastor at a Friday night football game as I am at the bakery on Wednesday mornings as I am preaching Sunday at worship? Does that allow for any differentiation? Will I be able to go back home and be a brother to my brothers, or am I supposed to be pastor even there, too? How much, honestly (as the endorsement essay prompt indicates), are our lives "above reproach"?
"Living into pastoral identity". I realize that us pastor types, we are set apart namely for administering the sacraments and ensuring proper teaching and preaching of God's Word entrusted to us. I realize that as pastors we are representatives of the Church, and we do indeed point to something beyond ourselves - we preach Christ crucified and are to be advocates of that message to our people. What about when I just want to bullshit with my friends and be Dean, not Pastor Dean or Reverend Safe?
That's the first time I've written those titles next to my name. Gah. Weird. Maybe that's a step into "living into pastoral identity". Recognizing that for myself. Maybe the rest will come later. I want to be pastor, but I also just want to be Dean. I want to be there with my farmer parishioners who are concerned about crops or losing their farms while also being able to be a advocate for something larger than myself. I want to be able to be authentic and real and honest without having a preconceived notion of who I am because of my role, because of my vocation.
Maybe there's no answer to those questions.
Maybe it's something we're supposed to wrestle with, to contend with.
Maybe right now, that's okay.
Peace, my dear friends -
Dean
