100.

My 100th entry, and I've had this for less than 5 months.

I love to journal though...and sometimes my entries are rather trite (to say the very least), and sometimes they have very little meaning to anyone else, but sometimes I think they might possibly contain little nuggets of wisdom. For me, it's easier to allow myself to be honest and, in some sense, vulnerable, when I'm writing. It's a helpful tool for clarity.

I'm currently reading William Willimon's book Pastor: The Theology and Practice of Ordained Ministry which is not something that I necessarily thought would be overly helpful given that I don't feel called into parish ministry.

I'm not too far into the text (about 60 pages), but I'm pleasantly surprised thus far. It's a rather technical manual, jazzed up with various stories from the author's experiences, etc., and many of the things about which I've read seem to be somewhat elementary, but there are also some good points. I wish he had reconsidered his use of words in a few spots, but on the whole, it's proven to be worth my time.

A particular text is sticking out for me right now, so I want to write it here, if for no other reason than to remember it for later (since I'm borrowing Brian's copy of the book and I don't want to mark it up). It reads:

"We live in a culture with an extravagant faith in the potency of counseling combined with a relentless interest in self-help techniques for human betterment. In such a culture, the pastor as therapist is a risky image for pastoral work--a possible capitulation to the infatuations of capitalist, bourgeois concerns rather than specifically Christian ones."

I think that I agree with Willimon's statement here, but I can't decide yet. After all, I don't believe pastors are only called to work with Christians, and, regardless of the historicity of the gospel accounts, it must not be ignored that Jesus' ministry was largely involved with 'human betterment,' and I think there are things which, Christian or not, ought to receive our attention. I don't think that Christians (ordained or not) can exclude themselves from some sort of service opportunity because their work isn't inherently "Christian," and I think, furthermore, that working with and for people who don't share that belief system is perhaps a better testament to what Christianity entails. After all, Christianity isn't meant to be some sort of secret sect, it's not an exclusive club (though it sometimes feels like it, but more on that later), it is, rather, some manifestation of grace, lived first and foremost through Jesus Christ, but echoed in humanity through the ages, thanks to the work of the Holy Spirit in and through us. Even Paul, with whom I sometimes have big questions, even he points out the necessity behind helping widows and orphans, for example. Ah yes, I must think more on this since, clearly, I don't have it figured out yet.

PTS has been interesting for me because I'm learning to throw certain cultural definitions out the window. I'm learning that there really isn't a "status quo", per se--or, rather, there are infinite perspectives on what the "status quo" actually is. I'm also learning that there are a lot of things that I believed because they were the only things instilled in me while growing up. Finally I'm in a place where those belief systems are called into question. Growing up in my suburban, white picket fence lifestyle, then going to undergrad with a bunch of other people who grew up in similar picturesque towns did not especially call my beliefs into question. As I think back on my Miami days, however, there is one moment that characterized me at that time: confronting Dr. Strauss.

Dr. Strauss is a professor that I will not forget any time soon. He was the head of the French & Italian department at Miami, and was my French Novel instructor (an upper level French elective). The French & Italian department at Miami was, at the time (and possibly still is), the number one program of its kind in the country. It was no small thing that I had the chance to study with Dr. Strauss in a class in which only 10 or so students were enrolled. We read several novels that term, and we wrote a variety of papers. Also, we each had to give a thirty minute presentation (in French) over some text-related subject. I remember very clearly my characterization of the two main girls in Anne Hebert's Les Fous de Bassan. But, even more vivid was my response to Christine Angot's semi-autobiographical book, L'Inceste. Yes, it transliterates into English to mean what you might suspect. Now, this particular text was so patently offensive (yes, it would qualify as "obscene" under the appropriate clauses--thank you, COM 447, Mass Media Law) that I could not complete it. I read the first 50 pages (about 1/3 of the novel) to truly give it a chance. My quest for open-mindedness had met its match. I was so bothered by the gross nature of this material that I confronted Dr. Strauss. I expressed to him my disgust and he asked if I thought others in the class felt the same way. I polled the other members and they all said that, yes, they too were horrified. However, none of them wanted to risk losing points and possibly getting a lower grade, so they refused to say anything. I was deeply troubled by that.

I talked to my parents, sister, and my boyfriend at the time...all of them were very supportive of me. My parents, in particular, made me feel better, confirming that they believed in me and my decision to "rebel," even if it meant I failed the class.

I talked to Dr. Strauss again. And again. I told him that I refused to complete the book and would thus be unable to write a paper about it. He challenged my stance saying that it was "that sort of subtle refusal to listen that led to the Holocaust." Offended, angered, hurt, and more convicted than ever, I debated with him and debated with him. Eventually, he told me that he would give me a different assignment. Instead of writing on the book in question, I had to write a paper (twice as long), in French, on why I shouldn't be compelled to read the book, though it was assigned in an elective class in which I chose to participate.

I got an A on the paper and an A in the class, which gave me a newfound respect for Dr. Strauss (though his Holocaust comment still enrages me). But, more satisfying was the feeling I had inside because I had done the right thing; I had stood up for myself, defended my beliefs, and maintained a sort of level-headedness that is sometimes a struggle for me.

The following year, 6 people raised their voices about Dr. Strauss (and others in the department), calling their morals into question, and a series of editorial letters from both sides of the issue found themselves in our campus newspaper. In the middle of that, Dr. Strauss wrote me a recommendation and thanked me for my maturity and candor.

Since coming to PTS, I have realized that the "conservatives" think I'm more liberal and the "liberals" thing I'm rather conservative. All of this has led me to conclude that those are silly titles that really mean nothing. I think it's more important to approach things as being right or wrong, than it is to worry about where I fall on the political/relgious/etc. spectrum.

I'm sure that even making an assertion like that probably categorizes me with some group, I can be labeled with one stereotype or another. Oh well.

It's after 1 a.m. I must be off to do other things. Bye :0)