This year has seen a couple milestones in my late-blooming early 30s: I've completed my first year in Upper Division classes at San Francisco State University, and Jacob and I have managed to remain a thing for over a year now; dare I say my first real long-term relationship. Both of these have blossomed in unexpected ways through work and compromise. They've brought me to deeper understandings of this world I live in and the people we (try to) make room for in this delicate social fabric we call life. Dare I say I've realized a couple new things about myself along the way: I have passions outside the church and music, when offered a challenging and exciting task I can pull them off with usually top marks; I'm also incredibly lazy and stay up too late in excess.
But, perhaps the most shocking epiphany is that, at least in this particular point in time, I feel I am not supposed to pursue ordination. I've thought about, even dreamed about, how I would approach that vocation and what my experience can bring to that particular field for all my adult life. My move to San Francisco was some ways supposed to prepare me it in re-establishing myself in a new faith community and being close to the seminary I wanted to attend. However, I've fallen in love with anthropology. And through prayer and conversations, and in my whole experience in San Francisco thus far, I've come to realize that if I learn to orientate myself towards the poor, the marginalized, and those whose name's are despised and erased from social memory, I will find one of my purposes in this life, and that I will ultimately be okay. I still have a passion for engaging and leading in public worship, and the church I attend fulfills those needs, but I feel I can serve God and the world better as a lay person. Let's face it, whether they are awful at administration, theology, liturgy or worship, or just suck at being pastoral, there are plenty of people who should not "wear the cloth." And God knows I don't want to be one.
I'd be lying if I had that my theological and liturgical interests haven't been overridden by anthropological thought and theory. I feel though that anthropology hasn't done a great job at letting people know exactly what they do. Everyone knows what a psychologist, social worker, or sociologist does, yet anthropology is still wrapped up in this mystical shroud of pyramids, skeletal remains, and people in Papua New Guinea. In many ways we are like journalists who tell other stories, but we actually hang out and get to know people in their unique contexts and are challenged with the task of re-telling these stories in a way that is framed analytically, yet honoring the subjective experience of those we get to know. It's too early to say what my theoretical orientation is, but I see myself being oddly influenced by the structuralism in Levi-Strauss, the position of the subject within power from Foucault, and Asad's thoughts on religion and de-colonization. Ask Jacob, this stuff excites me.
At any rate, I feel anthropology has much to offer in this era. Anthropology recognizes that many of the differences between human groups are deep-seated culturally. One does not have to look too far past their political and religious affiliations to see that the same groups of people experience the same phenomenon of problems yet come to extremely different conclusions and solutions. And what's saddest, at least from a "leftist" perspective, is that we know so very little about the "other" in terms of ethnography and what their essential lifeways are. I think anthropologists, no matter how subjective this is, are tasked with telling those stories in a way which builds common ground and reconciles cultural differences. It's an incredibly tall order, I know.
I'll touch on this more in the next most, especially as it is concerned with the future, but much of this has stemmed from my reflections this past Advent season. Last night at Christmas Eve Eucharist at St. Paul's I was relieved to hear Fr. Tim speak in his sermon about the parallels between first century life in Palestine, and the oppressive and powerful forces that are at work today (and I was equally relieved that he was able to do it tactfully-I've never been a fan of on-the-nose politics in the pulpit).
This Advent I've grown tired of heaviness the news brings day in and day out. I've grown so tired of people just not caring for the circumstances of the poor and marginalized (read non-white families who've had to endure trans-generation trauma from racism and discrimination, as well as anyone who doesn't fit into typical norms of heteronormativity, straight or gay, and women who have apparently have no control of who touches them and when no matter what the intention). In Advent, liturgical Christians recall the waiting of the return of Jesus, who first came in humility, to return to set this world straight in its relation with itself. Mary echoes the coming of this day when he hath shewed strength with his arm: he hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts...hath put down the mighty from their seat: and hath exalted the humble and meek...hath filled the hungry with good things: and the rich he hath sent empty away.The cries of, "come, Lord Jesus" are accompanied by painful "How long, Lord? How long?" I am motivated by my faith to do some serious good work in this world, yet the circumstances we live in are equally disheartening and I am left to hold on and hope for either a miracle, perhaps a Christmas miracle, that will make my tasks easier, and an economy where I can free myself from the student debt I am collecting so I can even attain to attempt at fulfilling theses tasks.
1 comment:
Blessings, Aaron!
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