A Hastily Arranged Baptism

As many of you know, in addition to serving at Canon for Congregational Development at the Cathedral, I have a kind of parallel life as a seminarian at The School for Ministry where I will be entering my third and final year this fall. (Want to join me and other members of the Cathedral for classes this fall? They are open to anyone who would like to audit a class. Register here) And as part of my studies, I am once again doing a summer “field study” which is a kind of internship for seminarians so that they can gain some ‘real world’ experience to augment their formation in the classroom. My field study this summer is with The Pastoral Counseling Center of San Diego – a wonderful ministry based right here at St. Paul’s Cathedral. And once again, I will be writing a series of blogs detailing some of my experiences as I did last year during my field study at Episcopal Community Services. Unlike last year however, because of the sensitive and confidential nature of my work at the Pastoral Counseling Center, I cannot write about any of my experiences per se, but I will share some of my learnings along the way as I prepare to say goodbye to St. Paul’s. Brook McGillis, the Director of the Center, has put together a wonderful curriculum that I am studying alongside my practical work that is rich with interesting insight about how we as a Christian community might care for one another. In addition to that work, I have been auditing the excellent Stephen Ministry training that Ellen Meier, Brian Mullin, Dean Penny and Rev. Maryanne Lacey have been offering throughout the summer. (You can learn more about Stephen Ministry here .)

In addition to the confidentiality issues, this is also a difficult assignment since I will be leaving the Cathedral before it is over (July 26th will be my last Sunday). I wrote a little about that last month, but really, I just scratched the surface of the emotions of such a proposition. You can read the letter here, but the long and short goes like this: Earlier this year I had another field study, this time at St. Bartholomew’s Episcopal Church in Poway .  When I began my work up there, which was supposed to consist of attending services, getting to know the people and then helping to organize their outreach (all in a mere four hours a week!), they were in the midst of a calling process for an assistant rector. About of month into my time there, I was asked if I would be interested in putting my hat into the ring. Interestingly, and I think importantly, the idea had already occurred to me as well. I too was beginning to feel that the Spirit was doing something with my time in that community; something that wasn’t content to be finished in just a couple of months. With the support of the Bishop and Dean Penny, and my husband Joe’s blessing, I put together a profile (not unlike the profile we did for the Cathedral but for a clergy person) and resume as well as some sample sermons. Following a Skype interview with the committee, I was informed that I was one the finalists and following a second round of interviews, I was informed that the committee and vestry had voted to extend me an offer.

In the meanwhile I was engaged in my own discernment process around leaving the only spiritual home I have ever known. I did a Listening Hearts session, met with colleagues and close friends, prayed…and then prayed some more. In the end, while a difficult decision, and definitely a bit out of the box in that I am essentially doing this a year early, I said yes. The opportunity for formation in a new context, one that is very different from the Cathedral will be a good challenge for me and my development as a priest. It will also be a good opportunity for St. Paul’s as Dean Penny will be free to reshape our staffing needs in response to the new mix of skills and gifts that has been assembled, and the emerging vision for the Cathedral’s future.

I have spent the last month since the announcement meeting with many of you, having lunch, dinners, drinks and coffees. We have spent time reminiscing about stories I had forgotten about -- and a few that I had remembered very differently! :) In thinking about the last 9 years here at the Cathedral, it’s truly amazing to imagine how much has changed; how much the church has changed, how much the world has changed -- and how much I have changed. I arrived as an attorney having never been baptized, and leave a candidate for holy orders – now if that is not a small miracle, I don’t know what is!

One of my favorite stories happened at our confirmation rehearsal – back to where it all began really. I will never forget Rev. Lee Teed – with whom we had just spent the last 10 weeks or so learning what it means to be an Episcopalian – walking us through the confirmation bulletin to make sure we all knew what to do and where to stand and so on. Then we got to the section in the bulletin that said “reaffirmation of your baptismal covenant.” Uh oh, I thought. I’ve never been baptized. I bet this is a problem, I thought. I remember sheepishly asking her, “um…excuse me, Lee…um….do you need to be baptized in order to be confirmed?” Of course that I had to ask that tells you something about how close I had been paying attention through the last 10 weeks, but there it was. Lee gave me one of her trademark looks that said a thousands words, but when she spoke, her words could not have been more gracious. She instantly decided that she would baptize me at a noon mass on the next Saturday. I’ll never forget calling my dad a couple of days later and somewhat offhandedly mentioning that I was going to be baptized the next day. There was a pause on the phone for a moment and then he said, “I’d like to be there. Why don’t I catch a plane tomorrow morning?” His response took me back. I really wasn’t expecting that. He had never taken me to church or even gone himself as far as I could remember. His wife was an avid church goer and he had so far resisted her invitations to join her. So this really took me by surprise!

Richard Bonacci recently did a forum on male spirituality where he talked about one of the roles for fathers being that they give their sons a blessing (as they go off into the world to slay their dragons and so on). For me, having my dad fly down on a moment’s notice to be there for my baptism, and to participate in it (Lee had him be the lector) was a blessing that I will never forget. Although the confirmation a few days later, with the bishop and the drama of the darkness and the music and a full cathedral, was beautiful and mesmerizing in its own way, it was my little noon baptism with just a small group of friends and my dad, will always be vivid in my memory and the closest to my heart. Looking back, I can assure you I had no idea that this baptism would be the beginning of so much more. It was a beginning that would be a blessing not just in my life but in the lives of others along the way. Over the years, the Cathedral would touch the lives of my family, my friends and neighbors. But it all stared back at that little, hastily arranged baptism. Even my dad, who had never taken us to church as kids, began attending church after he returned to Santa Cruz. Where he would eventually become…a lector.

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Chris Harris is Canon for Congregational Development at St. Paul’s Episcopal Cathedral and candidate for holy orders. His passion is helping people integrate their faith and a sense of call into all aspects of their lives -- workplace, finances and relationships -- while designing a life of purpose and mission. He can be reached at harrisc@stpaulcathedral.org or connect with him on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/chrisharris00

Does Your Church Need a Mission?

Chris with Reggie McNeal, 

author of Misisonal Renaissance

The answer may surprise you

This semester I have been working at St. Bartholomew’s Episcopal Church in Poway as my field study. Like the Cathedral, they are a wonderful, vibrant, friendly church. Interestingly, they both recently revised their mission statements as part of their respective strategic planning processes. And while some will roll their eyes at the mention of mission statements -- having spent time on committees painstakingly developing them only to see them gather dust on a shelf somewhere -- I am a believer in them. Having a clear sense of mission and purpose is vital to a growing, energized congregation. A recent study by The Episcopal Church, for example, showed that one of the most important factors in church growth is a clear sense of mission and purpose.

So what’s the problem you ask?

Well, not so much a problem as a question. And that is, how do we square our need for a mission with what our friends in the ‘missional church’ movement, such as Reggie McNeal, author of Missional Renaissance, who argue that missional churches really don’t. Reggie would say that it is actually God who has the mission and it’s the church’s function to discover and participate in it. “We have thought we were about building the church and inviting people to participate in it as the doorway into the kingdom of God. That is, we've thought that the church had a mission. The truth is that God's mission has a church. It's His Mission, not ours.” As a result, we spend a great deal of our efforts trying to get God and people interested in the programs and ministries that we are offering, instead of discovering and engaging in what God is already doing. “We try to get God to fall in love with our efforts, when we need to fall in love with his mission. We consider ‘children's ministry’ inside our walls, so we're so busy doing that, but we don't worry about the low reading levels of 3rd graders in our community.”

I have to say that I am sympathetic to that argument. As much as I think that a sense of purpose and direction that comes from a mission statement is useful to a growing, energized congregation, a sense of mission does not necessarily make one a “missional” congregation.  Missional congregations do ministry with the community rather than merely for.  We can do church really well, without necessarily doing God’s mission. We can have a successful, growing church, without making disciples. In short, we can build congregations while failing to make a difference.

The Diocese of Connecticut obviously got the memo. Here’s their “mission statement”:
(Short version)

God's mission is the restoration and reconciliation of all people to unity with God and each other in Christ. It includes care for God's creation.

(100 word version)

God loved into creation - the universe, earth, humanity. It was diverse, and it was good. Human sin entered and distorted our relationship with God, one another, and creation. God yearns to make all whole again. This is God's mission. God chose and liberated a people, sent the law and the prophets. God came in Jesus, fully human and fully divine. In Jesus' life, death and resurrection we are restored to unity with God and each other. God sent the Holy Spirit, empowering the Body of Christ. God co-missions us in baptism to participate in God's mission of restoration and reconciliation. 

We participate by learning what God is already up to, and joining that. 

1. We read the Bible to see what God has done, and continues to do.
2. We talk to neighbors and leaders and others, sometimes holding meetings to listen.
3. We take stock of our gifts and talents, in light of what we've learned.
4. We (prayerfully) go out from where we are to join God's mission.

(I added 'prayerfully.')

I think they are onto something here. What do you think? Are we agenda driven? Or are we in tune with God’s agenda? Do our mission statements and the goals and objectives they spin off reflect an inward or an outward focus? How do we know? Was the community at the table when we developed them? Were they part of the process? If you read your church’s mission statement to your neighbors would they get excited about it? If we were to achieve our mission, would anyone in the community know – or care? Would God?

Interesting questions to test your statements against. Even more interesting might be the answers.

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Chris Harris is Canon for Congregational Development at St. Paul’s Episcopal Cathedral and postulant for holy orders. His passion is helping people integrate their faith and a sense of call into all aspects of their lives -- workplace, finances and relationships -- while designing a life of purpose and mission. He can be reached at harrisc@stpaulcathedral.org or connect with him on Facebook

 Read the whole series here. 

Home

(This post is part of a series of blogs by Canon Chris Harris as he shares some of his experiences during his field study this summer with Episcopal Community Services. Read the whole series here. )


One of the interesting things working at the different Episcopal Community Services programs has been meeting the many (homeless) Episcopalians who live and receive services there. I met one women who was baptized by a friend of mine, another who as a kid acolyted during a visit by President Ford and another who was baptized by the same priest who baptized me!

Recently I invited several of the them to join me at the Cathedral and (as many of you have heard me say in the past, statistically more than 70% of the people you invite to church will say yes – and indeed that was the exact “yes” rate that I had!). We arrived and I proceeded to introduce my new friends to some of the clergy and acolytes who had gathered at the font to get ready to process in. It was about that time that of my new friends leaned over and said, “this is my church!” That is, although she had never been to the Cathedral before, because she was baptized as an Episcopalian, it suddenly hit her that this too was her church. As we got settled into the pews and I proceeded to introduce them to those sitting around us, she leaned over and said it again, “this is my church!” with a big smile on her face.

As someone who is thoroughly raised in the post-modern, post-denominational world, I often find myself downplaying the importance of denominational affiliations. I find this to be particularly true when talking about my faith journey with my (many) friends who are avowedly (and often with good reason) self-described, spiritual but not religious. I find that by downplaying denominational importance, and up-playing the Cathedral’s ecumenical and indeed, interfaith alliances, I see a lot more nodding heads.

I think the so-called spiritual but not religious are (correctly) suspicious of churches or denominations who claim to have cornered the market on truth.  Describing the Cathedral as a place large enough to be home to a variety of expressions of Christianity, puts them at ease. People like to hear that we are comfortable with a Lutheran running our Sunday bible study, a Methodist as our ‘Preacher-in-Residence,’ priests who were former Roman Catholics, oh and did I mention our Rabbi-in-Residence?!?! To my spiritual but not religious friends who are so suspicious of all organized religion, I tend to describe God as something that we catch glimpses of through a variety of windows, never getting the complete picture by ourselves. After all, I have to believe that God is way too big for any denomination to fit into a box and that we ought to be leery of those who try. Thus there is plenty of room in the world for a variety of styles of Christianity, as we each bring a unique glimpse with us to the table; helping us develop a more complete picture of the divine. In short, we need each other.

Getting back to my story, this new friend, who upon entering the Cathedral for the first time, marveled at the idea that this was her church, made me aware of another truth as well: The power of a denomination to create a sense of community. That is, in addition to finding an expression of God that speaks to in the way you need to hear it, a denomination can help you feel at home. The Episcopal Church is a wonderful example of this. After all, no matter where you find yourself around the country, chances are you have a church home waiting for you somewhere not too far away. And when you enter, despite our many differences and varying worship styles, there are familiar rhythms, a comfortable flow of the liturgy and a common prayer. And although you don't know their names, the people sitting next to you likely said the same oaths at their confirmation, grew up singing the same hymns, extending the same awkward peace, sharing communion and being sent out with to familiar post-communion prayer. In short, it's not too hard to feel at home.

Sitting there next to my new friends from ECS, I saw that despite the passage of time and distance, that it is possible to feel a part of a church that you have never been in. That no matter who you are, wherever you find yourself, or however far you have traveled -- even if you got a bit lost along the way -- you can always find you way back home.

Chris Harris is Canon for Congregational Development at St. Paul’s Episcopal Cathedral and postulant for holy orders. His passion is helping people integrate their faith and a sense of call into all aspects of their lives -- workplace, finances and relationships -- while designing a life of purpose and mission. He can be reached at harrisc@stpaulcathedral.org or connect with him on Facebook

Unspoken assumptions

(This post is part of a series of blogs by Canon Chris Harris as he shares some of his experiences during his field study this summer with Episcopal Community Services. Read the whole series here. )

I met a gentlemen at ECS the other day and as I normally do, I said something like, “so what are you up to?” His answer surprised me.

“I’m working on my spoken word, “ he said with particular weight and significance.

Well that was unexpected, I thought. Immediately I began wondering, could it be that he really is just working on speaking? After all, the clients I encounter at Episcopal Community Services virtually all suffer from various forms of mental illness. I began to think to myself, can you imagine a life where all you had was your “spoken word?” Or if speaking itself was such a challenge that you needed to work on it and practice? I could start to feel the compassion for this poor man swell within me. What a sweet man to admit so proudly that he was working on the simple act of speaking -- something that we all take for granted?

I was about to just smile and let him be on his way when he continued, “I just gave a performance the other day. Didn't you hear it?”

Huh? Suddenly I realized this might not be what I was thinking at all.

“No, but tell me more about it,” I asked.

Well after talking to the gentlemen for a while, I began to feel pretty stupid. He could talk just fine. “Spoken word” wasn't about him working on taking, it was the name for a performance that he did! Like rap, Spoken Word is a kind of street poetry. According to him, his Spoken Word was a way of offering commentary on life, the news or things he’s seen on the streets. Often it’s just him, but occasionally he has a drummer accompany him. He performs downtown at Horton Plaza but also spontaneously, wherever he finds himself when the spirit strikes him. What’s more, he performs not for himself, but for the benefit of others.  A kind of street angel.

Intrigued, I quickly Googled it and found this on Wikipedia:

The art of spoken-word poetry has existed for many centuries. The Ancient Greeks included spoken-word poetry in their Olympic Games. Similar exercises were encouraged in political and social discourse in what was then an ancient and thriving form of democracy. Modern spoken-word poetry originated from the poetry of the Harlem Renaissance and blues music as well as the 1960s beatniks. The term "spoken word" was first adopted to explain the new art coming out of the postmodern art movement. Modern-day spoken-word poetry became popular in the underground Black community in the 1960s with The Last Poets. The Last Poets was a poetry and political music group that was born out of the African-American Civil Rights movement.

Wow. Now I really felt stupid. Not only was I ignorant of a fairly noble art form with a storied history, but more importantly, I was guilty of harboring some fairly low expectations of the person I had just met. After all, before he explained himself, I was going to let this gentlemen pass by with little more than a smile and some misplaced pity.  This incident reminded me that I probably do this far more often than I realize -- particularly with homeless people. How often had I misjudged someone in the past without even knowing it. How often have I missed opportunities for understanding and connection because of hasty prejudgments? How often have I seen only what I expected to see, rather than what was really in front of me?

And how many times as a result, have I missed an opportunity to entertain an angel unaware?

Chris Harris is Canon for Congregational Development at St. Paul’s Episcopal Cathedral and postulant for holy orders. His passion is helping people integrate their faith and a sense of call into all aspects of their lives -- workplace, finances and relationships -- while designing a life of purpose and mission. He can be reached at harrisc@stpaulcathedral.org or connect with him on Facebook

Remembering Jesus

(This post is part of a series of blogs by Canon Chris Harris as he shares some of his experiences during his field study this summer with Episcopal Community Services. Read the whole series here. )

Each Sunday we practice Eucharist in a very stylized, symbolic way. But what are we really doing there? We are celebrating the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, giving thanks and then remembering him through the sharing of the holy feast. We remember him not as a memory that we recall in our mind only, but by taking him into us physically. And somewhere within that mystery, our lives get intertwined with his and we are transformed in the process; becoming his arms, legs, ears, eyes, and hands in the world. We are then sent out to feed others in body and spirit. That basic rhythm of meeting Jesus at the table happens whenever we gather, give thanks and break bread in the name of Jesus, but it doesn’t happen just in a church.

A few weeks ago, I was finding myself at one of ECS’s Safe Haven programs, a transitional housing program for folks who suffer from mental illness and would otherwise be on the streets. I was feeling petty awkward coming into their home each evening. I couldn’t not help but feel as if I were butting in in some ways. They had never had a chaplain who visited on a regular basis and I hadn’t been introduced to the house in anyway (as this was all new for ECS as well and the managers were vacationing at the time). So I introduced myself, explained that I was a seminarian from St. Paul’s Cathedral (across the street) and that I would be visiting each week just to “hang out” and get to know them. While that wasn’t much of an explanation, that seemed to be enough for most folks and they welcomed me and thanked me for being there. So while everyone was nice, I couldn’t help but feel a little awkward at first. I felt like I needed to break the ice somehow. When I heard some of the residents mention that it had been so long since they had had a hamburger that I thought – ah ha! Let’s do a BBQ! (ECS provides the house with breakfast lunch and dinner for all the residents but they apparently don’t do burgers.)

I did a quick trip to Costco and picked up some large burgers, some bratwursts and wheeled over a BBQ from the Cathedral. We fired up the grill and people pitched in by putting out various condiments and fixings. Once of the cool things about a BBQ is that it is more than just eating, it’s an event. People can gather around and converse, ask to get their onions grilled or their burger well done. And it takes time which means we had time for conversation, laughs and the opportunity to build a sense of community that had not been there previously (at least for me as the newcomer).

The food was very much appreciated but more than that, when word got out that I had brought over the BBQ on my own accord and out of my own pocket (rather than a normal meal provided by the house) the reaction was unexpected. They were amazed that I had gone out of my way to bring over dinner. So accustomed were they to having the house staff do dinner, they just assumed I was part of that. While I certainly wasn’t looking for any particular appreciation or credit, when they learned this was a gift from me, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise because it seemed to make people relax. This wasn’t a house meal paid for by staff, this was a true gift of hospitality, freely offered out of a desire to build relationship.  The spirit of our little gathering changed in some way.  Instead of eating and returning to their rooms for example, people hung around and talked.  It became a gathering rather than just eating.


After we had finished eating and cleaning up, one of the residents offered to wash my feet. She wanted to do something for me and that was all she could offer. Of course my first reaction was to say, “thanks but there’s no need to do anything in return” this was really a completely free will offering with no need to reciprocate. But she wouldn’t take no for an answer and so I (reluctantly) accepted.

Having been through more than a few Maundy Thursday foot washing rituals, I realized that it was important to receive as much as to give, but still, I wasn’t sure I wanted to get so close so soon in my introduction to the house – it’s an intimate thing to let another person wash your feet. And then I realized, that’s exactly what I needed to do! Something happens when love isn’t just given, but received as well. I just needed to get my hang-ups out of the way and just see what would happen. So I sat back and let this woman wash my feet. And indeed it was very moving. To have someone who has so little do something for me in this intimate way, was very powerful. We ended by praying together and giving thanks. It I could not have been a lovelier ending to the day.

 Upon reflecting on the experience, it occurred to me that somewhere in the midst of that, in the mystery of that meal, our gathering and the washing of feet, we too had gotten mixed up with Jesus. We too had become his members to each other that day as we fed one another in body and spirit. Without expecting it, we had remembered Jesus that night.

Chris Harris is Canon for Congregational Development at St. Paul’s Episcopal Cathedral and postulant for holy orders. His passion is helping people integrate their faith and a sense of call into all aspects of their lives -- workplace, finances and relationships -- while designing a life of purpose and mission. He can be reached at harrisc@stpaulcathedral.org or connect with him on Facebook

The Power of Ritual

(This post is part of a series of blogs by Canon Chris Harris as he shares some of his experiences during his field study this summer with Episcopal Community Services. Read the whole series here. )

This morning I was at East County Accord which is a program of Episcopal Community Services which works with people who have been arrested for DUI.  As part of their court sentence, they are required to attend anywhere from eight to several dozen meetings.  Part of my field study this summer has been to act as a kind of unofficial chaplain as well as occasional discussion leader to one of the groups of about 20 people. Their ages, races, professions span the range of course -- driving under the influence doesn’t discriminate.

Each Friday morning the group gathers for a facilitated discussion on different topics ranging from what are the excuses and consequences for our drinking to a discussion of what it means to live a life of integrity -- and how our use or abuse of alcohol impairs our ability to live in integrity.  They don’t always have an alcohol use/abuse focus.  For example I led a discussion on mission and purpose in our lives, but there is always an alcohol angle that can be brought in as it is such a major distraction/impediment to personal and spiritual growth in our culture. The discussions are surprisingly open and honest. Several members of the group are in AA and are very good at helping the conversation get to a deeper, self-reflective/self-revealing level that gives permission for the rest of the group to follow suit. And of course our expert facilitator is also very good at drawing people out and creating an atmosphere of safety. As a result, the group has bonded very well in a way reminiscent of some of our spiritual autobiography classes at St. Paul’s. People share their life struggles, their relationship ups and downs, the impact their DUI has had on their career and so on. We laugh and cry together and many exchange phone numbers or emails so they can stay connected after their required sessions are complete. I come early and stay afterward to make myself available to those who wish to talk more.

In many ways the groups resembles a tribe. We have an initiation ritual – new members have to tell their DUI story (that is, how they got arrested). We have an elder of the tribe – when he speaks, his plain spoken wisdom and life experience immediately commands the full attention of the younger members. We even have a ritual for when we leave the tribe. When a member has fulfilled the required number of classes and is on his or her last meeting, we pull out a marble from a box and pass it around the group. As the marble stops with each person, they hold it tightly and share an appreciation about the person who is preparing to “graduate.” Often they reflect on how they have seen the person change over the course of the meetings and how they have grown. The marble finally ends in the hands of the person leaving, blessed by the touch and infused with praise from those with whom they have reluctantly spent these last few months. In a way the ritual provides closure, a sense of accomplishment and growth as the graduate prepares to ‘reenter’ to the world.

So powerful is this practice that when we had a guest facilitator filling in for our regular leader, there was a reluctance on the part of the two graduates that day to complete the ritual of the marble without a blessing from our leader. We went around and said our goodbyes and offered our praises as usual, but toward the end, when it came time to hand them their blessed marbles, they didn’t want to receive the marble just yet. Since they would be meeting with our facilitator later for a kind of exit interview, they specifically asked if they could receive the marble from her later that day. I find this particularly interesting because this is a completely secular program, yet the power was such, that it wasn’t complete without the tribal leader (if you will) saying her part.

I wonder if we might benefit from a little more ritual in our lives. The power and impact of ritual is undeniable, but often we deny ourselves of the opportunity to employ its power. How often in our daily lives are we given an opportunity to use ritual to mark something that is important. Even the ritual of the toast before meals or a short speech thanking the guests at a dinner party can add to the enjoyment of the evening. How often in the church do we get too caught up on the doing the business of church, be it a meeting, an event, or even service opportunities, that we miss the chance to mark these moments through the use of small rituals – even the ritual of the opening prayer? Or how about the ritual of the house warming (or house blessing) – a wonderful ritual often forgotten in the hustle bustle of a move? We are all familiar with wedding and graduation rituals, but what about a ritual for when our teens get their drivers license and are handed the keys to the family car? There is a wonderful book by our very own Gertrud Mueller Nelson “To Dance with God – Family Ritual and Celebration” that has many suggested rituals for the occasions of our life (including that last one). Ritual can help add meaning to the routine.  It can help us notice the deeper purposes at work in the small moments of our lives.  Ritual can even help us recall the presence of God...and dance. 

What opportunities for ritual do you have in your life? What might you develop (or dust off) to help savor the deeper meaning of life’s moments?

Chris Harris is Canon for Congregational Development at St. Paul’s Episcopal Cathedral and postulant for holy orders. His passion is helping people integrate their faith and a sense of call into all aspects of their lives -- workplace, finances and relationships -- while designing a life of purpose and mission. He can be reached at harrisc@stpaulcathedral.org or connect with him on Facebook

The Power of Presence

(This post is part of a series of blogs by Canon Chris Harris as he shares some of his experiences during his field study this summer with Episcopal Community Services. Read the whole series here. )

As part of my field study at Episcopal Community Services, I recently found myself wandering into a trauma ward to visit one of our clients who had been hospitalized. With nothing more than my Book of Common Prayer under my arm, I was amazed how far I was able to get before someone stopped me. While I have visited many people in the hospital before, this was only my second trip to a trauma ward and I must have stood out as it didn’t take long for one of the nurses to ask me if I was lost. I explained who I was visiting and they took me right to him. I wasn’t sure what I was going to encounter, whether the patient would be awake, up and about, happy to see me, angry, or what. As the doctor took me in to his room, I saw that it was none of the above. He was completely incapacitated. Breathing tubes and respirators covered most of his face and feeding tubes most of his arms. “Now what?” I thought to myself. We had covered active listening extensively in our Pastoral Care class, but nothing had prepared me for this exactly. I have visited many parishioners in the hospital over the years, but his was all together something different. In fact, for a brief instant I remember wondering whether it was OK for me to even be there given the critical condition he was in. But the doctor soon assured me that my presence was welcome as he brought me a chair so I might sit next to the bed.

I sat down and returned to my initial question of what now? Suddenly I remembered reading somewhere that even comatose people can hear you talking to them. And then I reminded myself that whether he can hear my prayers or not, God certainly can. So I pulled up the chair close, leaned over and whispered to him that it was me and that I had come to visit him and was going to say some prayers for him. I opened up my Book of Common Prayer and began reading from section containing prayers for the sick. I read a psalm, said a few prayers of my own and then talked with him a little, letting him know that we’re all thinking about him and praying for him.

I really couldn’t tell if he heard anything or not. I sat silently meditating for a moment not sure what else to do. Suddenly it occurred to me to reach out and hold his hand. I don’t know why I thought to do this; I didn’t really know him very well. In fact, there was only a little of his hand exposed as it was partially taped up which caused me to again wonder for a split second whether it was OK to touch a patient in such condition? But I reached out anyway and held his hand because it just felt like the right thing to do.

Earlier as I walked up to the hospital I had prayed to God to help me be there for this man in whatever way he needed me to be and perhaps this was the answer to my prayers because as soon as I reached out to hold his hand…he squeezed it…tight.

He held onto my hand and didn’t let go for more than a minute. And in that minute he said more to me than any words could have.

He had heard my prayers…as did God.

Chris Harris is Canon for Congregational Development at St. Paul’s Episcopal Cathedral and postulant for holy orders. His passion is helping people integrate their faith and a sense of call into all aspects of their lives -- workplace, finances and relationships -- while designing a life of purpose and mission. He can be reached at harrisc@stpaulcathedral.org or connect with him on Facebook

Catching up with Chris (part 2)

(This is part 2 of a two-part post catching up with Canon Chris Harris and his experiences this summer during his field study at Episcopal Community Services as he continues his journey as a postulant and student at the School for Ministry…You can read part 1 here.)

After more than a few all-nighters at Lestat's Coffee House in University Heights, myself and the rest of the inaugural class of The School for Ministry made it through finals in May.  Needless to say we were all ready for some time off to catch up on our lives.  However, that would have to wait as we would soon embark on our summer field study.  Similar to an internship, a field study is an opportunity to gain some experience and explore our pastoral style in ministry settings that are outside of our ordinary context (and to varying degrees, our comfort zone!).  My placement, along with fellow postulant Richard Lee would be at Episcopal Community Services (or ECS).

ECS has numerous programs throughout San Diego, many of which reach out to homeless/mentally ill in our community.   Studies vary, but most homeless advocates and services agencies will tell you that between 20-40% of the "homeless" are suffering from some kind of mental illness. Having served on the board of San Diego’s Alpha Project for the Homeless for more than 10 years, I can tell you I would definitely agree with that assessment. Moreover, many of those people also struggle with substance abuse issues (so-called dual diagnosis).  As difficult as it is to overcome drug or alcohol addiction,

just imagine how much more difficult it is when you are trying to manage chronic depression, or schizoaffective disorder or bipolar disease.  This already overwhelming challenge is then exacerbated by the daily struggle to survive life on the streets in a society that choose not to provide basic shelter for those in need.  As a result, I am trying to wean myself off of the term “homeless” because it’s just too broad term that doesn’t really describe the presenting case but rather articulates a side effect. For the chronically homeless, their lack of shelter is actually more of a symptom than a primary condition. (You and I for instance, would be more accurately described as relatively healthy and well functioning, rather than as “the housed.”)  In any event, while the term is too broad, I haven't found a satisfying substitute as yet.  ("The untreated?") And while we're on the subject, I am trying to come up with a term for the wealthiest country in the world, that can't seem to afford the basic guarantee of shelter to its most suffering citizens.  (But that's the subject of another blog all together!)

My summer schedule has looked something like this:

• Friend to Friend (Mondays) – This is a club house on El Cajon Blvd. that helps to connect mentally ill homeless with housing, services, counseling, benefits, treatment, or whatever other help they need. We have a computer lab that is open every day as well as classes through the week such as an excellent class on the use of music to affect and improve your mood. At F2F (as it is known) I have been staffing the front desk and interacting with members as well as connecting new referrals to the wonderful and hardworking staff. (The staff all of ECS’s programs is just phenomenal. They are patient, knowledgeable, dedicated and have a positive, hopeful attitude.)  http://www.ecscalifornia.org/programs/friend-to-friend/ 

• Uptown Safe Haven (Tuesdays/Thursdays) - This is transitional housing program located just a block north of the Cathedral on 5th Ave.  Here homeless folks who suffer from varying degrees of mental illness have a safe place to live, three meals a day and help with everything from psychiatric care, to developing critical living skills, to finding permanent housing assistance.  This is a group home that houses up to 19 individuals - up to two per room.  Here, I function as a kind of informal chaplain.  I spend my time visiting with residents, getting to know them, and listening to their stories and sharing some of my own. We pray together, laugh and offer support, advice and help where possible.  http://www.ecscalifornia.org/programs/safe-havens/

• East County Accord (Fridays) - Accord is a DUI education program for people who have been arrested under suspicion of drunk driving.  Its purpose is to reduce the incidence of drunk driving in the community through education as well as to offer a connection to alcohol recovery programs for those who need/desire it.  Again, I serve here as a kind of chaplain to a group of about 20-25 who meet each Friday morning.  Although it is a secular program, our group discussions are often spiritual in nature, touching on questions of purpose and calling.  I led a class recently that was essentially a version of a spiritual gifts course we have done at the Cathedral in the past and it was very well received.  In fact, I would say this little group of ours, has had some of the most heartfelt, and spiritually deep discussions that I have been privileged to be a part of.  I also make myself available for those who want to talk or pray before and after class.  http://www.ecscalifornia.org/programs/accord/

In future blogs, I will be sharing some of my experiences at these different agencies and offering some of my reflections, challenges and moments of hope.  Although not always mentioned by name, God is working through the ministry of ECS in profound ways that I found to be both unexpected and personally transformative.  I hope to share some of that journey in the future posts.

Read the whole series here. 

Chris Harris is Canon for Congregational Development at St. Paul’s Episcopal Cathedral and postulant for holy orders. His passion is helping people integrate their faith and a sense of call into all aspects of their lives -- workplace, finances and relationships -- while designing a life of purpose and mission. He can be reached at harrisc@stpaulcathedral.org or connect with him on Facebook

 

Catching up with Chris (part 1)

(This is the first in a series of blogs I will be posting this summer as part of my field study at Episcopal Community Services.)

Why is the Canon for Congregational Development at St. Paul's Cathedral doing a “Field Ed” at Episcopal Community Studies (or ECS as it is known) and why am I blogging about it?  Well, those are good questions, first a little background:  For those who do not know, I am a postulant for holy orders. That is, in addition to my normal duties at the Cathedral, I am being trained to be a priest in the Episcopal Church. How did that come about you ask? Well, it’s a long story but suffice to say after several years of having this question tug at me and me waiting to see if it would go away (it didn't) we decided to explore it further and discover if that was indeed what God was calling me to. After all we are all called to serve. It just not always immediately clear how. And I for one was feeling pulled in a lot of different directions.


With the support of (then) Dean Richardson and (then) Sub-Dean Allisyn Thomas, we called a committee together in the early 2013 and spent several months in prayerful conversation and listening to what the Spirit might be up to. In time, we discerned with the guidance of the Holy Spirit, that this might be the next right thing in the evolution of my ministry. And by the way, when I say “we” I mean the “royal” we meaning, me, you, my faith community, friends and family who don’t even go to church but are spiritual but not religious, (especially you!) were all helping me discern this call-- whether you knew it or not! :) When you asked me to marry you or to baptize your children, to preach or teach a class, or when you wanted to just talk, you were helping me understand what God might be calling me to next.

After some interviews, recommendations, background checks, psychological evaluations and more conversation, listening and lots of prayer, the Bishop and the Commission on Ministry eventually decided to make me a postulant. At that point, the Bishop and I had to make a decision about a formation plan. We decided that in my case, instead of a traditional 3-year seminary, it made more sense for me to pursue my formation locally in the context of where I will be serving. The diocese had just opened the School for Ministry and it seemed like a perfect option for me.   In addition to the benefit of allowing someone coming to the priesthood as a second (if not third) career, it would have been a significant barrier to sell my house and quit the job I love at St. Paul’s (which is an excellent training ground for ordained ministry in and of itself) and ship off to a residential seminary.  Oh and did I mention that adding to the $90,000 in student loans I still have left over from law school wasn't particularly enticing considering clergy salaries these days! :)  Plus my husband Joe is a hair stylist and has spent years building a clientele in San Diego. Leaving San Diego would have meant giving up his business and considering that may have to support us one day, that was also a factor. So a residential, traditional seminary program, would have presented significant challenges to put it lightly.

The School for Ministry is located at the
Episcopal Church Center in Ocean Beach
which doubles as a homeless outreach center.

Fortunately, the School for Ministry was opened at the Episcopal Church Center in Ocean Beach as a way to train and form clergy in their local context using the variety of talented and brilliant faculty we have right here in the diocese. What’s more, the Episcopal Church Center is a mission center with an emphasis in outreach to the neighborhood homeless population and so our classes are held in the midst of a Saturday morning homeless feeding program which helps to keep our hearts and our minds grounded in those we are called to serve.  (By the way, everyone is welcome to enroll and audit individual classes at the School for Ministry - check out the website for upcoming class schedule and enrollment information.)





Needed a couple of books for an exegesis.
Huh? Don't ask! (Photo courtesy of Joe's
Instagram)

Last month we finished our first year. And what a year it was! I have mentioned to many of you that it felt like I was in law school all over again. We had four classes each semester, which we prepared for during the week and then attended class all day Saturday.  All of us at the school had a hard time adjusting to the amount of school work on top of our normal workload. Plus, with more than 15 years removed from law school, I noticed that I was a tad rusty as a student and it took me some time getting back into the rhythm of reading and writing and getting papers by a certain deadline (and learning the art of "good enough"!). I of course had to severely cut back my normal work and social schedule to make it work (and spend many a night at Lestat's my favorite 24-hour coffee house!). Many of you have undoubtedly noticed you saw me a bit less last year, or that I was often leaving dinner parties or birthdays early to work on a paper or finish a sermon. And I have to say, the social impact was hard on a number of levels. For starters, I found it to be somewhat isolating. I missed my friends and missed meeting new ones. I missed being able invite over new acquaintances and being able to always say “yes” to invitations. Even in law school there was time for social gatherings on Friday nights – here, I was studying most of my Fridays – not so much here. But having said that, I did meet some new friends who I will know and cherish the rest of my life and that is my fellow postulants, faculty and students at the School for Ministry. After spending that much time together we really bonded and by the end of the year grew really close. We all had different styles, different approaches, backgrounds, as you might expect. But by the end of the semester, we had become like an extended family.

But more than all of that, I wouldn't not have traded it for anything.  The cumulative experience was indeed transformative.  I am not sure exactly what happened, but somewhere amidst the long nights, the endless readings, the reflections, the papers, the arguments, the laughter, the frustrations, the friendships, the prayers and the worship together, something changed.  I can honestly say, I am not the same person now as I was at the beginning of the semester.  I don't know if I can completely put my finger on it, but both Joe and I noticed a shift that began.  But more on that in part 2....

Chris Harris is Canon for Congregational Development at St. Paul’s Episcopal Cathedral and postulant for holy orders. His passion is helping people integrate their faith and a sense of call into all aspects of their lives -- workplace, finances and relationships -- while designing a life of purpose and mission. He can be reached at harrisc@stpaulcathedral.org or connect with him on Facebook

Seminary Snapshot: The School for Ministry

Two of the Cathedral's seminarians, Chris Harris and Richard Lee, are attending the new Diocesan School for Ministry.  This is a new way of doing seminary, different from the full time residential graduate programs.  At the School, students meet on Saturdays, all day, for a 14 week semesters, while continuing in their regular jobs during the week.  They also participate in Theological Field Education out and about in the Diocese.  The course for ordination as a priest takes three years.

Before Richard and Chris tell us more about their individual experiences, we thought we'd address some of the frequently asked questions about the School.  Thanks to Hannah Wilder, Simon Mainwaring, and Bishop Mathes for answering these questions!

Who can attend?
Anyone can apply to attend the School for Ministry. Applications are reviewed and students are notified within six weeks. Auditors are also welcome to apply.

Is the curriculum comparable to what is taught in a traditional seminary?
Yes. Whilst, due to the smaller scale of our operation, the number of subject areas covered by the SFM is smaller than the residential seminaries in TEC, we do offer the same breadth with the exception of Hebrew and Greek, which we do not offer. We offer classes that cover all of the seven canonical areas required for ordination to the priesthood and more besides. Most importantly, the quality of instruction is as high as a traditional seminary. All of our faculty have Masters level education and a good proportion have doctorates too.

Where we step ahead of most traditional seminaries is in offering a skills-based curriculum that seeks to integrate the practice of ministry with rigorous academic learning. The pedagogy of many traditional seminaries still utilizes the 'banking model' of education that seeks to prioritize the acquisition of knowledge. Educational institutions across America of all varieties are moving toward a more adaptable and contextually rigorous model for learning, which the SFM pursues.

How can one full day a week be equivalent to a residential seminary?
Postulants have four, two-hour classes a week plus at least 16 hours of prep time during the week. Traditional seminaries do not conduct 8 hours of classes per day, 5 days a week, but integrate classroom learning with other aspects of seminary life such as chapel, fellowship and in some cases part-time work. The rate of learning at the SFM, therefore, is similar to a traditional seminary. 

The distinctive aspect of institutions such as the SFM is that the outside-the-classroom reflection that our students undertake is out in their working/retired lives in the world. In essence, the model - in contrast to the residential seminary - is not learning in a time away from the world, it is learning within the world.

Do students get an M. Div. (Masters of Divinity)? 
No. The School for Ministry is not currently accredited.  An M. Div. is not required for ordination.

What IS required for ordination? 
The bishop of the diocese (the ordinary), with the consent of the Standing Committee,  has the discretion to ordain those whom s/he believes have met the canonical requirements of ordination.

Are deacons and priests ordained from the School qualified to serve throughout TEC, or are they limited to the Diocese of San Diego?
Once ordained by a bishop of the Episcopal Church, our deacons and priests are able to serve in any diocese as much as any other deacon or priest would be.