As a young adult community, we want to stay aware of the particular gifts that young adults bring to our world as well as the particular challenges that young adults face. We are also curious to learn about culture and trends among young adults.
SAN ANSELMO, CA (05/27/2011)(readMedia)-- San Francisco Theological Seminary graduated 62 students in six degree and diploma programs on Saturday, May 21, on a beautiful, sunny day amid the redwoods at Bouick Field. With 20 graduates from Korea, China, Taiwan, Indonesia, Myanmar, Philippines, Mexico and Canada, SFTS continues to stand out as a training ground for international theologians and pastors.
Erin Tamayo of Michigan City, Ind., is one of 28 students who earned a Master of Divinity degree, the first professional degree in theological studies. She is seeking an ordained position in a faith-rooted organizing ministry in Southern California. She hopes to serve the urban poor with persons of a wide variety of faith traditions.
Tamayo earned Bachelor of Arts degrees in bilingual education and Spanish at Arizona State. As part of her science requirement, she taught geology to Spanish-speaking students and also began to teach English for a community-based program sponsored by a tiny Spanish-speaking Presbyterian church in nearby Tempe.
After graduating from Arizona State, she taught first grade to students whose primary language is Spanish. "Even when I was teaching, I knew in my heart that God was calling me," Tamayo recalls.
Before moving to Pasadena, where she attend seminary at the SFTS Southern California campus, Tamayo received a Master of Arts degree from Northern Arizona University.
Founded in 1871, SFTS has a rich history of service to the church. As an institution of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) and a member of the Graduate Theological Union, SFTS remains dedicated to being a Christ-centered academic community, rooted in the Reformed tradition that embraces a diverse student body. With a focus on spiritual formation, critical theological reflection, and the skills and arts of ministry, SFTS prepares Christian leaders to serve in congregations, the wider church, classrooms and the public sphere.
Gracious God,
As a young adult community, we want to stay aware of the particular gifts that young adults bring to our world as well as the particular challenges that young adults face. We are also curious to learn about culture and trends among young adults.
We've been following the news this week concerning the Christians at Family Radio who have followed the teachings of Harold Camping. They strongly believed that on May 21, 2011 they would experience the Rapture along with Christians like them, that they would suddenly be removed from the earth and taken heavenward by Jesus while others would remain on earth and experience five months of tribulation until a final apocalypse five months later in October.
1 Peter 2:2-10
. . . But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called out out of darkness into his marvelous light. . .
Do you know how valuable you are? Really and truly, do you know?
Have you ever asked yourself that question, or has anyone ever asked that question of you? Do you know how valuable you are? Well, it's a good question. And while the question is most likely from a positive place, the answer within us is rarely simple. Even if the obvious answer is 'yes,' it brings up a lot of complex emotions within us, doesn't it? Do you know how valuable you are?
For some of us, I imagine that question is comforting. It may bring up strong memories and sensations within us - moments in which we knew spiritually, emotionally, and physically that we truly were loved, truly valuable. Perhaps we remember parents or children or friends who revealed to us that we have infinite worth in their eyes. Or maybe strangers have even revealed our worth to us. Perhaps they've conveyed to us that they're grateful for who we are. Or perhaps we've convicted ourselves of our own value. I don't necessarily mean those moments when we have more pride than we ought to have (and we all have fallen into those moments, I'm sure). I mean, that maybe we've had the opportunity to tell others about their value - parents, children, friends, or even strangers - and in the process, we've been reminded that we too are human. We too have value. For some of us, I imagine that question is comforting.
For some us, I imagine that question is confusing. Perhaps that question brings up memories and sensations within us that are also strong. Perhaps we remember moments when we didn't feel loved or valuable. Perhaps we remember moments when others have failed us, and we couldn't feel valuable in their eyes. And perhaps we remember moments - maybe even moments today - when we no longer believed that we have value. For some of us, I imagine that question is confusing.
For some of us, I imagine that question is grief-filled. We have memories and sensations within us that are so strong. We remember those who taught us about our value, and some are people who we have lost, either to death or to a move or to illness. Or maybe we recognize our value, but it simply seems like a good idea rather than a concrete reality, because we look at the world around us and wonder why some things are so difficult for us if we're so valuable. "If I'm so important, how could this happen to me?" We all ask questions like that, and while each one of us is gifted with so much, we also know that we've suffered at times. We ask those questions, and for some of us, this question: "Do you know how valuable you are?" is also a grief-filled one.
But it is a good question. Do you know how valuable you are? It's a good question for many reasons, one being this: You are truly valuable. Emphatically and endlessly and joyously, the answer to whether you are valuable and whether you are loved is 'yes.' We are human beings made in God's image, and God values each and every one of us as chosen and precious. We are truly valuable. Valuable to God. Valuable to one another. Valuable to this world. The answer is 'yes.'
Like us, the people in Peter's community probably didn't always know that about themselves. They too must have been confused about who they were and Whose they were. . . They too knew what it was like to experience painful circumstances. Scholars believe that the audience of Peter's letter had experienced a great deal of pain. They were persecuted - for their beliefs, yes. But an extension of that is also true. When a person's beliefs or a community's beliefs are persecuted, it feels as though their very identities are threatened. They are deemed invaluable because of who they are and in this case, Whose they are.
But beyond religious persecution, the community of this letter surely knew other kinds of pain as well. Like us, they had lost loved ones. Like us, they experienced moments of declining health. Like us, they had probably experienced moments of economic hardship. They probably had arguments with family members or friends. They were human, and like us, they knew pain even in the midst of so much joy.
And this letter seems to be speaking to those pains - religious, relational, economic, and other kinds of pains - and the author speaks straight to the heart of identity, value, love, and purpose. If we were to ask the author, "Are we valuable?" that person would say wholeheartedly, "Yes!"
We can read this all through this passage. And in the words, our attention is drawn to someone who exemplifies what it means to be persecuted and rejected and yet chosen and precious beyond measure, and of course, that person is Jesus himself, Jesus the Christ. In this passage, Jesus is held up as the example for us. The text speaks to us, saying that Jesus "was rejected by by mortals yet chosen and precious in God's sight." We are called to come to him - the one who is called a Living Stone, the one who shows us what love is and how love abides and how love reigns, even and especially in the midst of suffering and rejection.
Jesus is our example. But he's also more than our example. He doesn't simply show us what it means to be valuable. More than our example, Jesus is precisely the one in whom our identity rests. As he is valuable, we are valuable. As he is loved, we are loved. As he is resurrected beyond persecution, suffering, and rejection, we too are resurrected. We are resurrected to live as the valuable people we are. Truly, we're valuable! God loves us as endlessly valuable human beings. And because we have value, we are empowered - not through our own strength but through God's strength, Christ's strength, the Holy Spirit's strength! - empowered to tell the world, to tell individuals that they too are profoundly valuable in God's eyes, in our eyes.
Listen to the words, the images, the deep metaphors in this passage which are applied to Jesus Christ, and then to us! "Come to him, a living stone. . ." "Like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house." "Though rejected by mortals, [he is] yet chosen and precious. . ." "You are a chosen people. . ."
Do you know how valuable you are? Did you hear those words and images and deep metaphors? You are a chosen people, a holy nation, a royal priesthood - right here! In the Health Center! You are even like beloved infants in God's care, nourished on the pure, spiritual milk that we are given in God's word - God's written words and God's ultimate Word with a capital 'W' - Jesus himself. Do you know how valuable you are?
As I was studying this passage this week and preparing to speak with you today, I read a commentary by Barbara K. Lundblad* that mentioned a powerful story. Years ago at Union Seminary in New York, a powerful worship service was planned. Of course, numbers upon numbers of powerful services have been planned at that seminary, but this one was powerful in a particular way. A seminary student had worked with an group called Picture the Homeless, and the worship service was planned and led by homeless people, people who were long accustomed to living on the streets, and as you can imagine, they were people who often felt ignored and unseen. Maybe at times, they had struggled to answer the question, "Do you know how valuable you are?" And yet, they planned this service to help people remember that they are valuable. They have names. They have dreams. They have infinite worth in the eyes of God.
The occasion for the service was really convicting as well. The worshippers hoped to bring attention to Hart Island, a place where many homeless people were buried after they died. It was a potter's field in New York City. The people who died there were often nameless without family to commemorate their lives. They didn't even have the opportunity for religious services of any kind. Though they had infinite worth, they were not commemorated as though they had value.
The seminary student and the homeless people worked hard to prepare for this service. Some of the worship leaders could not read, so they worked hard to memorize their parts. They led all parts of the service with dignity and grace, and several people told about their experiences living on the streets.
At the end of the service, the congregation of people was invited to do something really powerful. There was a large sheet of paper, and it was filled with anonymous names - anonymous names like John Doe, Jane Doe, and Baby Doe. And as the names were spread across that sheet, they created an important message. They were placed in a formation that said, "WE ARE HERE." Members of the congregation were told to take Post-it notes, small pieces of paper, and write names of people who were homeless - actual names of real people, and then they each came up to the sheet and replaced the anonymous name with a real name. Soon it became obvious that the homeless leaders of the service knew many more names than those who were not homeless. The moment became a reminder to each person that they are called to go to many places - lonely places, isolated places, homeless places, not necessarily places far away but places right where they lived - and learn and recognize that the people in those places have names. They are valuable beyond measure.
I know that there have been moments in my life when I felt isolated and unknown. There are moments when I struggled to recognize my own value. I have a feeling that many of you have felt that way at times in your life. There may be some of you who feel that way today.
But the good news for Peter's community is the same good news for us today. We are valuable. We are not ultimately alone. God will never forsake us. In Jesus Christ, God has a human face, and he is the very foundation of love and value. He will accompany each of you all your days, just as he has been accompanying us through the entirety of our very lives.
Dear friends, every one of you, are truly valuable beyond measure, endlessly and incomprehensibly valuable. . We don't even have to earn it! Did you catch what the scripture said to all of us? "Like living stones, let yourself be built into a spiritual house. . ." Let yourselves. It doesn't say, "Go out there and build that house. Work and sweat and toil. Be strong. Build your own value!" No, instead, it says, "Let yourselves be built."
And that is the message to us today. As we are gathered here in this moment and as we go to our separate rooms in the Health Center, let's remember that we are all valuable. This week, let's find ways to recognize and remind one another of that truth. And let yourselves be the spiritual house that you are. We are a temple - together - and we're inviting other people to enter God's temple and discover God's love for them.
You and I are built upon a loving foundation. And in that spirit, let us sing How Firm a Foundation together. . .
Renee Roederer, Director of Young Adult Ministries at Pasadena Presbyterian Church, and the community of the Health Center within Monte Vista Grove Homes
*This story was a part of the commentary Feasting on the Word, Year A, vol. 2, pgs. 461-465.
As many people know, a small but vocal group of Christians expected yesterday (May 21st) to be the beginning of the end of life as we know it. Centered upon the teachings of evangelist Harold Camping, who made a similar claim in September of 1994, the group from Family Radio believed that yesterday would include cataclysmic earthquakes and the rapture, a miraculous event in which they would disappear from earth and be gathered with Jesus Christ and travel heavenward. This rapture would remove 3% of the earth's population, while the remaining 97% would be left to experience tribulation on earth for five months before it was destroyed in a final apocalypse.
At this moment, I'm writing a blog post in St. Arbucks. (Did you know that St. Arbucks is the patron saint of coffee?) For me, it's a calm Friday, as most Fridays are for me. I take a break from the office, from the hustle and bustle of tasks that must be done, from the typical structure of daily work. At the very least, my pace is slower. I reflect. I laugh. I connect with friends.
At Pasadena Presbyterian Church, we are so grateful to worship and serve as a tri-lingual congregation. We have English, Korean, and Spanish-speaking fellowships within our church, and three language services on Sunday mornings. Several times a year, we gather to worship together. We believe this is important for our sense of community and our call to serve the wider city of Pasadena.
We have some exciting and fun events planned this weekend at Pasadena Presbyterian Church. Please join us!
God of Love,
As a young adult community, we want to stay aware of the particular gifts that young adults bring to our world as well as the particular challenges that young adults face. We are also curious to learn about culture and trends among young adults.
In millions alive, away and abroad;
involved in our life you live down the road.
Imprisoned in systems, You long to be free;
we see you, Lord Jesus, still bearing your tree.
We hear you, O man, in agony cry;
for freedom you march, in riots you die.
Your face in the papers we read and we see.
The tree must be planted by human decree.
You choose to be made at one with the earth;
the dark of the grave prepares for your birth.
Your death is your rising, creative your word;
the tree springs to life and our hope is restored.
-Presbyterian Hymnal 311
Opinions and emotions concerning the recent ratification of Amendment 10-A to the Constitution of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) this week fall along a large theological and social continuum. Amendment 10-A opens the possibility for gay and lesbian people to be ordained to the church offices of Deacon, Elder, and Minister of Word and Sacrament.Commentary and Opinions In Opposition to Amendment 10-A:
Presbyterians for Renewal: PFR Issues Ministry Team
Friends of Music Presents:
As a young adult community, we want to stay aware of the particular gifts that young adults bring to our world as well as the particular challenges that young adults face. We are also curious to learn about culture and trends among young adults.
Ben Johnston-Krase is pastor of First Presbyterian Church in Racine, Wisconsin. This sermon addresses justice in light of the recent death of Osama bin Laden.
Micah 6:6-8 and Revelation 21:1-5
A milk man in a small town goes door to door each morning with a large jug of milk. At midday he sets his jug on a rock while he unpacks his humble lunch of bread and hard cheese. One day, the goat herder comes by as the milk man is having his lunch. The milk man hollers a greeting which spooks one of the goats which in turn knocks the jug over, shattering it and spilling its contents. Not only does the milk man lose the rest of his day’s wages, but it will take up to a month to get another jug. How will he live without a month’s income? The milk man demands the goat herder sell his goats to pay for the milk man’s losses. The goat herder responds that to do so would bankrupt him.
The two men go to the village judge. After hearing both of them plead their cases, the judge declares that it is neither the fault of the goat herder nor the fault of the milk man. To truly find out whose fault it is, he decides to hold a trial between the goat and the rock. The judge sends his bailiffs to bring forward the goat and the rock. The goat comes fairly easily. The rock comes with a struggle.
Soon, word of the trial spreads throughout the village. The trial is held in the town center, and all of the townspeople come to witness the ridiculous event. The judge speaks. “You have come to see a trial between a rock and a goat, which is a foolish thing. Thus, you have come to see me make a fool out of myself. The only fair judgment is to fine each of you a few coins for ‘improper thoughts.’” The money is collected and given to the milk man who is able to purchase a new jug and continue his work.
Everyone in the village is involved and while some resent having to contribute their own money to a situation that didn’t concern them, they all feel that they have been part of the solution. And they all lived happily ever after. [1]
It would be nice if we could use that line more often wouldn’t it? “And they all lived happily ever after.” But in this world, unfortunately, there’s no judge who can magically sort it all out, make peace, and send us all home happy. Our lives are not fairy tales, and it’s rare that we receive fairy tale endings.
The case went to trial, the criminal was convicted and sentenced to ten years in prison, and they all lived happily ever after.
After his seventh DUI arrest, which came on the heels of an accident that left the driver of the other car in wheelchair, he served time in prison and was ordered to pay restitution, and they all lived happily ever after.
The soldiers came home from Iraq, and they all lived happily ever after.
Karla and I had put the kids to bed and were watching television a week ago when the news came that Bin Laden had been killed. We hardly ever watch live TV, so it was kind of incredible that we were actually sitting there. My first reaction? Some relief mixed with a sense of apprehension about what this would mean going down the road—some worry about reprisals—and also a remembrance of September 11, 2001. Karla and I had been married for just three months. We were living in an apartment on the south side of Chicago. Karla was in her second year of seminary and I was in my last, and on that Tuesday morning, we were getting ready for our intensive Hebrew class when the phone rang. It was a friend from the seminary, and she said, “Turn your TV on.” We did, and so did you. Remember that?
A few days after the planes hit, a group of us went swimming in Lake Michigan, just off Promontory Point, close to the Museum of Science and Industry. And I remember on that day that I swam out as far as I could and lay on my back in the water and looked up at the blue expanse, and I was distinctly aware of the fact that there wasn’t a single plane in the sky. Not a one, not yet—they weren’t flying again yet. I wondered to myself then about how things were going to be different in a post-9/11 world.
And they’ve been different, haven’t they? It’s almost hard to imagine what life was like before. But we remember walking right through the airport, not taking off our shoes and not emptying our water bottles, and simply waiting expectantly at the gate for someone to get off the plane. We remember when life seemed a little more predictable—or at least when the dangers in this world seemed a little more predictable.
We remember life before anthrax scares and life before worries about weapons of mass destruction. We remember when there was no such thing as a pre-9/11 and a post-9/11 world, when we were completely unaware that a single day could change everything. We remember life before the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. And you remember when the soldiers from this congregation were boys and girls coming up front for the children’s sermon.
We can count ourselves blessed or lucky if we haven’t lost too much since 9/11—if our whole world doesn’t hinge on life before and life after—if we didn’t lose someone on one of the planes or in one of the towers—or if we haven’t lost a loved one fighting in the Middle East. But there are some for whom the memory of life before 9/11 is so raw and painful…
In his address to the nation last Sunday night, President Obama had a message for them. “On nights like this one,” he said, “we can say to those families who have lost loved ones to al Qaeda's terror: Justice has been done.”
Going back to September 11, 2001 briefly, it was strange. It seemed that everyone in our intensive Hebrew class was aware of just how serious the attacks were except for our professor, who apparently hadn’t really watched the news that day. For much of the morning, she must have been operating under the assumption that the plane hitting the World Trade Center was a small one—maybe a single-person aircraft. Of course, we can all remember thinking that for a moment. Anyway, in class that morning we sat, studying Hebrew together. A Hebrew word I have not forgotten is “tzedakah.” The root of “tzedakah” is “justice,” but it’s translated in a variety of ways Scripture: justice, fairness, charity, righteousness…
I heard President Obama use the world, “justice” last week, and since then it’s been popping up everywhere. On Monday thousands gathered at Ground Zero in New York City, where former mayor Rudy Giuliani said of bin Laden’s death that “justice has finally been done.”
The biblical concept of justice, or “tzedakah,” is this: that we as God’s people have a religious obligation to make things right in this world—to give and make fair—to justify things—to create righteousness, to make right. The prophet Micah asked the people, “What is good, and what does the LORD require of you, but to do justice…”—to “make right” in the world. And so, for example, in the Old Testament, it is said that farmers should leave some of their crops in their fields so that the poor can come and gather food. This was “tzedakah”—justice.
Some of you here may have mixed emotions about bin Laden’s death. You might feel like it was the right thing to do, but you still might have some sadness that a life was taken. That’s ok. Some of you may be overjoyed that he’s gone. That’s ok too. We can be glad it’s over and/or frustrated that it took this long. We can feel like we can finally move on. We can have reservations… One thing we should not be doing is evaluating one another’s feelings about what has happened. As my mom used to say to me, “Trust your feelings, because your feelings, at least, will always tell you the truth about how you feel.” So I want to pause and affirm this: however you’re feeling about the news this week, it’s ok; you can trust that feeling.
I want to caution us, however, to think carefully about what we mean when we say that “justice has been done.” In the Bible, the creation of “tzedakah”—the making of justice—is “making something right,” and I think it’s reasonable for us to ask whether or not bin Laden’s death makes it “right.” Is the world “right” again?
I used this example with our Bible study on Wednesday. Let’s pretend that tonight someone were to break into this building and vandalize this room. Say we came into the sanctuary tomorrow morning to find horrible things written all over the walls—pews destroyed, windows shattered, the baptismal font smashed to pieces… Let’s just say it was awful. But then let’s say that the police caught the person who did it—that he was arrested and brought to trial. Let’s say that he was sent to prison and ordered to pay for some of the damage. Let’s say, even, that the insurance paid for it all, and that within a few weeks, the placed looked ok. Is that justice? Has everything been made right again?
Consider the serious crime where someone gets hurt. A mugging, an assault, a rape… Our laws provide consequences for those actions—serious consequences. We call the system that processes such cases our “justice system,” but it’s still ok for us to ask, “When justice has been served, has justice been done? Is everything “right” again?” Certainly, through our justice system, we can punish, but we can’t turn back the clock—we can’t undo evil and we can’t undo the things that evil has done. Sometimes no matter what we do, we can’t do justice—we can’t make everything right again—we can’t create a “happily ever after.”
When I wrote this sermon, I caught myself at this very moment wondering just what it was I was trying to say. Am I trying to say that we should have let Osama bin Laden live a long life? No. Am I suggesting that since we can’t really undo the wrongs of this world we should stop trying? No. So what is it then? Well, I suppose it’s this, and I think this could be the Church’s good news to our nation right now: that sometimes it’s when we think we’ve achieved justice that we need to rely on God’s sense of justice the most—that when we think that justice has been done, we need to remember vividly what things really will look like when, finally, God’s justice is done.
God’s “tzedakah”—God’s justice for all. God, the Sacred Source of the Universe making all things right, finally right! There’s an image of that in Revelation, where John writes that “God… will be with [us]; [God] will wipe every tear from [our] eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more…” Make no mistake, we cannot accomplish that for ourselves. We can arrest and prosecute. We can imprison and even kill. But we cannot undo the brokenness of our world. We can’t stop death and pain.
When we put our trust in God, we put our trust in the ONE who is making all things new. Friends, especially these days, let us be mindful of where and in Whom we place our trust, and as we seek justice, may our hearts be drawn even beyond human understanding to the justice that God longs for and provides. Amen.
[1] I first came across this story in a sermon from the Rev. Ian Lawton.
-Rev. Ben Johnston-Krase and the community at First Presbyterian Church, Racine, WI.
