Seminary is Hogwarts

“And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?” // “School Houses. There’s four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o’ duffers, but —” “I bet I’m in Hufflepuff,” said Harry gloomily. “Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin,” said Hagrid darkly.

Rowling, J.K. (2012-03-27). Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (Book 1) (p. 80). Pottermore Limited. Kindle Edition.

When I first went to seminary, I had friends and acquaintances who pondered whether seminary was more like Star Fleet Academy or Hogwarts (many seminarians are nerdy, you see). I belong in the Hogwarts camp, and 2 years post-graduation, I still see parallels between going to seminary and going to Hogwarts.

Hogwarts students get sorted into school houses when they arrive as first-year students, and the Pottermore site (http://www.pottermore.com) recently re-added the “official” Hogwarts house sorting quiz after a long hiatus. While on a business trip, I re-visited the sorting hat quiz.

So, let’s get this over with. My name is Dave, and I’m a Hufflepuff [Hi, Dave!]. As the quote says, Hufflepuffs are the Hogwarts school house that has a reputation of not being the brightest or the bravest or the most driven to succeed. Hufflepuff qualities tend toward egalitarian concerns, hard work, and … gardening. There are fewer major or important supporting characters from Hufflepuff than any other house. Can you name the ones that really matter? Cedric. Tonks. Professor Sprout. That’s it.

The Pottermore site stores your house sorting result, and you may not re-take the quiz. At least I wasn’t Slytherin.

I wanted to be Ravenclaw, the house of brainy folks. I’m a pretty sharp guy, and my MBTI personality type (INTJ) is highly focused on logical thought. I’m an Engineer who does data analysis and “forensic” investigations of materials that fail in real life, a computer nerd who dives under the hood in Linux, and holder of multiple science-y and artsy degrees. School was my hobby. I love to learn.

Truth be told, the sorting hat quiz, before the results were made once-and-done in the recent Pottermore site change, sorted me as Ravenclaw when I applied to seminary in 2007. I could have re-claimed my old results, but I wanted to see what the results would be now.

Why? Seminary changes a person. And not in a you-will-now-think-like-me or these-are-not-the-droids-you-are-looking-for way. Seminary plants one into an environment within which one may (and hopefully will) examine one’s fundamental engagement of one’s faith, sacred texts, the human condition, and the concept of living as a community in covenant with a loving God … however you approach and try to define who/what God is.

I wanted to go in and come out of seminary as a Ravenclaw. Ravenclaws value intelligence. When I entered seminary, I was pretty oriented toward the academic experience of seminary. I loved my Biblical Studies classes. I miss, now that I am serving as a youth director, times when I was in a group of folks doing literary criticism and analysis of sacred texts (youth don’t usually appreciate lit crit — “when are we going to play a game, Dave?”). I was not looking forward to the eventual time I would have to take soft skills classes like Pastoral Care.

When the time came, I did well in Pastoral Care. On occasions when I am in a pseudo-Pastoral care mode, I am both decent at it and find it a holy and deeply important time.

The core of the change that I experienced was this: Christianity is, to me, now more about relationships than rules — now more about faith within community than the sacred texts. For a Ravenclaw, this would be blasphemy. For a Hufflepuff, this would be business-as-usual. As one of the sorting questions asks, if a troll was about to destroy everything in a room and there were a cure for a disease, an important book of runes, or student records, in what order do you save them? Before seminary, the book would be most important. After seminary, it is the cure for disease.

Jesus, when asked about the most important commandment in the law, answered, “You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your being, and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: You must love your neighbor as you love yourself. All the Law and the Prophets depend on these two commands” (Mt 22:37-40 CEB).

Love. Not, intelligence. Not bravery. Not drive. Not that these things aren’t important and can’t produce important things for ministry, but everything has to be under the umbrella of love.

Hufflepuff, according to Pottermore, espouses equality, fair play, hard work, and an openness to all that does not exist in the other houses.

My name is Dave, and I am a Hufflepuff. Somehow, I think Jesus would approve. He might even get a similar result on the sorting hat quiz. But that could just be me wishing.

On the Road

I spend a lot of time on the road for “the real job” (Engineering), so I often take my technology tools and diversions on the road with me. These are the things that allow me to get things done and to maintain my preferred, wired lifestyle when I’m sent to the hinterlands to attend some meeting/seminar or to work in the field. I went to seminary half time while working full time, so every class day was like a business trip!

Some general tips for business travel with devices:

  • Take the right device. Each has strengths and weaknesses. Tablets have MS Office now, but that does not mean you can do big data analyses.
  • Don’t assume you will have wifi connectivity.
  • Don’t assume you will be able to camp out at a power outlet.
  • Keep work and personal stuff separate, if possible. AKA, do not give an employer a reason to invoke their computer use policy in an awkward-to-explain way.
  • Go small. Take only what is useful and necessary. I don’t take everything I list below every time. 

As far as devices go, I have an almost 20-year relationship with Apple Macs and a 6-year relationship with iOS devices. So, my choices come from the house of the fruit. Just translate to your favorite non-fruit world view if you wish. No judging. It’s all good.

I do not use a company-issued laptop for personal or ministry tasks, and I recommend that your work and personal stuff be separated, too. It is not worth the risk of someone, sometime, saying that the company does not like what I or you do on my own time. For example, I do youth ministry, and both religion and the topic mix that youth care about don’t mix with corporate computer use policies. So, I travel with separate phones and (usually) separate computing devices.

Sometimes, I leave the company-issued laptop at work. So — where I blur the lines is that I will use a personal device through our company-approved virtualization methods (Citrix Receiver and/or MobileIron MDM) in order to travel lighter. In those cases, it is understood that the device is personal and does company work only sometimes. The tradeoff for the iPad is that the company knows what apps are installed and can trigger a remote wipe if it was ever needed/wanted.

Mobile lifestyle device choice 1: iPad Mini 2, wifi-only, 64 gig. Apple smart cover, ColcaSac hemp sleeve, and a Microsoft folding bluetooth keyboard. Tablets are great for getting work done, but they don’t work that well for jumping back and forth between documents, doing complex document tasks, software development, or tasks where you need a lot of your data on the road with you (Android folks have less heartburn with that last item due to SD card expandability). This is my more frequent gear for business trips, and especially when I fly.

An iPad will last a long time on battery-only, but sooner or later you have to charge it. If you’re in all day meetings or classes or air travel or on flight delay at BWI (again) or hiding in a cabin in the woods like a hermit, something other than camping out at a power outlet is needed.

I use a Hyperjuice Plug extended battery when necessary. It has about 15,000 mAh of capacity, enough to charge my iPad and phones for a few days to a week. Fits easily in whatever day pack or bag I’ll have. I also carry 2-meter long charging cables, a small micro SD cable, a car power plug, and one or more AC power cubes. If I don’t carry the Hyperjuice, I’ll take a small battery to give the phone a charge when needed (a freebie from work is pictured).

Mobile lifestyle device choice 2: Macbook Air (“MBA”, mid-2012), i7, 8 gig RAM, 960 gig Transcend JetDrive SSD. If I need to be able to do anything life throws at me, this is the device to bring. I won’t upgrade to a newer one, because this is the last year that such a big aftermarket SSD was available. [Update: In the name of even lighter gear, longer battery life, and a retina screen (so nice), I bought a 2015 Macbook 12” for myself and gave my MBA to a friend in college. I’ll put my iTunes library back on an external drive like I did before I had the big honking SSD, and I’ll sell the 960G SSD. So, never say never.]

Add a travel mouse. If you’re like me, touchpads are a necessary evil, but not suitable for all day work.

Powering the MBA off-the-grid requires a little more specialized gear and a willingness to modify some cables beyone what Apple’s warranty folks support. I got the DC-DC car adapter, Hyperjuice adapter patch cord, and the modified Apple 45W AC power pack from “Mikegyver” computing (Google him). The battery is a Hyperjuice 100 Wh (about 27,000 mAh) unit. With it, I can go 12 hours or so on the MBA without resorting to extreme power saving choices.

I usually only take this level of gear on a driving trip, but I have flown with it before.

Then there is the stuff that I take with me regardless of the device. I carry a Verizon “MiFi” mobile hotspot. Ever used airport or hotel wifi when everyone else who is flight delayed at BWI (again) is on or your hotel is hosting a convention of people, all streaming video? You sometimes need your own internet. Don’t forget a backup set of files on a flash drive (encrypt if desired). I also take a small Griffin arrowhead stand to use with the iPad or a Kindle.

I also take what would seem, at first, to be a redundent item: a Kindle Paperwhite. Trust me. For reading, a Kindle is the best single-purpose device you can own. Easier on the eyes and readable in more conditions than your phone or tablet or laptop or wood-pulp-based reading material.

With some planning and a little gear, you can hit the road and stay connected and get work done under any conditions. Let me know if you have any great ideas or if you have any questions.

Life After Seminary

“Vocation does not mean a goal that I pursue. It means a calling that I hear.”
— Parker Palmer, Let Your Life Speak (4)

Seminary students are headed back to school for a new year, both the new, eager-to-tell-you-their-call kind and the jaded, grizzled veterans who have studied John Wesley and wonder why nobody teaches this stuff in churches. Godspeed, seminarians. Been there, done that.

For those of us who followed a call into seminary and into our chosen denominational processes designed to lead to formal ministry, we heard our call in a number of ways — a persistent urging, a clear sense of purpose, being told by others what they saw in us, and/or some sort of close encounter with the divine at work in our lives. Each person hears, literally or not, some snippet of what she or he is to be and wrestles with all the big what-if questions that come along for the ride. Unfortunately, the message we hear does not contain a complete map of how to get there or if the ending will be a happy one. We are all left to figure this out on our own.

In my case, I actually heard my call — or perhaps, more correctly, I heard a validation of the call already exerting itself on me. Twice. My candidacy mentor told me to own this story, though I was always self-conscious about it. I always feared being rejected by the powers-that-be in my journey if I told it. So here goes:

The first time: Following a couple of years of persistent urging, an uncomfortably clear sense of where my path was going, being told by others where and how I should serve, and running away from God, I found myself waking up in a sweat in the middle of the night with a phrase running through my head — a phrase that was clearly spoken as if someone was right next to me talking in my ear. The phrase: “my people need you.”

The second time: I felt drawn to a prayer labyrinth at night in Western North Carolina in the Fall of 2007 during a mission trip. I needed to be there. I could not stay away. After walking the path by flashlight, I stepped into the center, stopped and listened. The rush of the breeze through the trees subsided. I was palpably not alone, even though I was the only person there, and yes, I was very apprehensive. My mind was full of the tug of war between doing ministry and continuing to bottle it up inside, and ended up saying a phrase that was not entirely true: “I don’t know what to do.” The response, which I heard in my head clearly and immediately and which manifested itself just like the first time earlier that year, was apropos: “yes, you do.” The silence that had been present faded, the breeze through the trees came back, and I felt like I was alone in the woods again.

As a science nerd and engineer, I did not previously embrace the mystery of theophany. I have grown to believe that each person has their own way in which to glimpse God at work in their journey; I figure that God knew my science-y mind needed a good, old fashioned kick in the ass (note 1) in order to respond. My candidacy mentor embraced the story; I put it into my paperwork and the district committee never asked me about it. And, I’ve not had another experience like these.

Fast forward 7 years of hard work, sacrifices both personal and imposed onto others, and 6 years of the twisty-turny path that is the United Methodist candidacy process.

I completed my M.Div. in May, but my journey to become clergy in the United Methodist Church ended, for all practical purposes, one year ago this month. Happy anniversary to me, I guess.

Here’s what I want to say to those in the process and those thinking about entering the process:

You will meet many people who want you to succeed in this adventure, but you will encounter all of the foibles of the human condition. Early on, an ordained clergy-person sneered at me for being a second-career candidate. I am a Meyers-Briggs INTJ, and I was met with disbelief by F folks that a strong T person like myself could ever do pastoral care. I was fat-shamed, with one ranking member of the committee telling me to “eat fewer Baconators” in front of the gathered body — the same person had, the year before, had a very warm conversation with me about my process. I initially said that I wanted to be ordained a Deacon and later switched to Elder (this was entirely my fault and was a product of personal fears). Switching orders, though, is seen as evidence of uncertainty in one’s call, does not win points, and the process remembers that you did this — always remembers that you did this. When I reached the point of certified candidacy, the committee spent virtually all of their response telling me how I barely made it and hardly any on affirmation. My candidacy mentor told me that he would not make it through the process as it stands today. A clergy colleague told me that it was very difficult to recommend this path to anyone. I was pulled aside by an ordained Elder and told not to work at a particular church because the powers-that-be didn’t like that church. I had clergy go around my back and talk smack to others. Ageism in the candidacy process reared its ugly head in subtle ways personally and more overtly via the experiences of my candidacy peers (yes, church leadership, we talk about you to one another and we compare notes on how you handle candidates).

In the end, I felt the drag of the above, but still held out hope that my desire to be ordained would, somehow, occur. Then, a series of open and heartfelt conversations involving mentors (official and not, most clergy but some not) showed me that this was not to be. Additionally, UM itineracy was a major stumbling point, one that was more deeply a problem than I realized. I made the decision to put on the brakes.

One would think that I would have nothing good to say about the church, but one would be wrong. I never stopped loving the church, even if we have some not-very-pastoral people doing not-very-pastoral work. A lot of good people get through the process and go on to be instruments of God’s love in our churches. You will, as I have, also meet some of the most giving, self-sacrificing people in the world on the journey. In Field Education (and CPE if you do it; I did not because it was not required and it was not possible given my F/T work, P/T student life), you will have the great honor of being witness to some of the most personal, painful, and/or beautiful times in persons’ lives. You will feel God at work in person’s lives.

I feel more fulfilled when I do church work than I ever have in my first career, and I hope that you will feel this way yourselves. I still feel called to be in ministry, and part of me hopes that one of these days a door opens to allow me to step more fully into that world. I don’t see myself ever being ordained, though. I want you to succeed, and I want the UMC to have the best candidates possible be ordained.

Know this, however: There is life after seminary if you do not go through with your denominational process, for whatever reason, leading to ordination.

I have found a place, for the time being and for the foreseeable future, doing youth (primarily) and children’s (secondarily) ministry in a multi-clergy urban congregation. It is a small, 10-15 hour gig, but it allows me to be present in person’s lives amidst the joys, hurts, and uncertainty that accompany growing up. I get to talk about Jesus (in moderation; the youth are a tough crowd) and I truly enjoy it. I am in ministry, just not in the way that I expected to be when I started.

And — I cannot say that the people with whom I was supposed to be, for this time, are not the people for whom God woke me up in the middle of the night 7 years ago and said, “my people need you.” Maybe so. Maybe not.

Call is like that. Clear yet indeterminate. One needs to be open to what-can-be even if things sometimes seem to be falling apart. My plans were not God’s plans. You may have it all figured out in your own process, but then again you may not. Know that throughout it all, you are a beloved child of God, special and sacred and meant to love and serve and cry out for justice.

There is life after seminary. I plan to blog about mine here.

Note 1: If you cannot stomach talking to folks in the vernacular, you may need to reconsider being in ministry with them.