From Handshakes to Hugs

This past Monday, our chapel service honored the International Day of Peace with a service that incorporated an opening litany where four individuals described experiences with war; multi-lingual responses to those litanies; hymns and songs about justice and peace and goodness being stronger than evil; and a hands-on offering involving writing down one's prayer for peace onto an origami paper and creating a pinwheel out of that with the help of a pencil and a pin.  (see the pinwheels in the picture above?)

Normally, at the end of every chapel service, the community both greets and departs with handshakes and "Peace be with you"s.  After this particular service, a service in which I'd seen the most raw emotion--real tears and relived feelings from sights of battle, refugee camps, and leaving family behind in war-torn places--handshakes melted into hugs, and the simultaneous frailty and strength of humanity gripped me as I connected on a bodily level with my classmates.

We were all at chapel that day because it was something offered to our community on a daily basis.  We greeted one another with handshakes because that was a way of connecting and blessing each other in a manner congruent to our faith.  But hugging--that took things to a whole new level.

I hugged not because it was the polite thing to do with my community.  I hugged because hugging is a very human thing to do.  In a season of life where I don't have access to the hugs of my family of origin, it was an unspeakable blessing to embrace and be embraced by my Divinity School community. I knew that, in the ebb and flow of things, hugs would most likely fan out into handshakes again after we'd dispersed and forgotten about the intensity of that shared chapel experience, but for that day, I got what I needed from the humanity of my community.

Later that day: attending a talk by the President of the Republic of Macedonia on "The Macedonian Model of Coexistence: Tradition of Respect for Diversity" and getting a performance by Yale's Slavic Women's Chorus at the reception afterwards.

Camaraderie within Community

A shared experience does not necessarily good friends make.  As well, commonality does not automatically knit people together, because sometimes that commonality is the only thing those people have in common.

That's how I felt last week during the Divinity School intramural soccer team's practice.  I was spending time with a bunch of guys and one other girl on a Friday afternoon.  We were trying to build teamwork so as to play better at the upcoming game.  Our team captain gave us pointers, and people were communicating on the field.  But I felt pretty disconnected.

During our scrimmage, I had been the first person to score a goal.  I also tried my best to keep up with the guys' pace and play defense the way I'd been trained by my childhood soccer coaches.  But at the end of the practice, I came away feeling discouraged and disheartened.  I felt that as much as I communicated verbally, sometimes my teammates just didn't see me--or want to pass the ball my way.  What did all these dudes studying theology have to do with the likes of me?  I skipped the game, thinking that I was a dispensable member of the team.

This past week, I ran into two team members who said the team missed me at the game.  (We'd lost by one point at the very last minute, during a penalty kick).  When I expressed my frustrations, they encouraged me to still show up and affirmed that I am a needed and valued team member.  I think I'll give soccer another chance this weekend.

Classes at Yale are in full swing now, but I am still introducing myself to new people on a weekly basis.  (Meaning, people aren't content with cliquishness and are still willing to notice new faces).  We have chapel every weekday, as well as lunches and dinners that bring the community together.  Class discussions allow us to bounce ideas off of one another in lively and respectful ways.  People are quite polite, mostly because that's the PC thing to do, I suspect, and because to fail in that regard would make one seem boorish, like the Sadducees.  In case you're wondering, that's an inside joke with people in my New Testament class...

Speaking of inside jokes, aren't they the best thing ever?

Well, for the people on the "inside" they are, and it is up to them to bring "outsiders" in to the atmosphere of the joke.  At lunch yesterday, I happened to run into several of my favorite people on campus, the people that bring an instant smile to my face. We ended up forming a big circle on the grass and sharing our meal together, and joking and laughter abounded.  Sometimes all I'd have to do was look over at a friend and wink, and we'd know exactly what we were laughing about.  As best as we could, those who were laughing explained the backstories to those out of the loop so that they could join in the merriment, and soon the circle was just bustling with fun energy.

Good community is important; it grounds an individual into a sense of purpose and a desire to play a role. Camaraderie with people within that community brings a sense of belonging and a feeling of safety--safety to be oneself, to be silly, and to make (and laugh about) mistakes with one another.  In a community like YDS where people are so serious about their spiritual and intellectual pursuits, it's a huge blessing to have a small (ever-expanding, fluid, and inclusive) circle of friends with whom I have camaraderie.

Keepin' it Real

My previous blog post was probably the first time I put into writing some of the frustrations I've had with contemporary Christian worship services.  Which is why I came out a little strong.  A few hours after writing the post, I found myself worshipping at a church which, though contemporary in style, was definitely musically proficient.  I also thought back to my previous church, where the worship leader was such a musically sensitive person and put care and thought into preparing for services and in training his team to improve.  And so the repenting began.

I knew that as soon as I came home and had dinner, I would need to make amends by writing another post.  My tendency to dichotomize things is really gonna get me in trouble one of these days.  It's incredibly not cool to associate musical professionalism with high church and amateur musical performance with contemporary worship.  So here goes my thought process, done in a spirit of penance:

What is true authenticity?

Is it replicating a musical style as closely to the original as one can, so as to respect tradition?

Is it bringing oneself to the table, with all one's performance flaws and quirks, so as to express oneself before God with no facade of perfection?

Is it practicing as professionally as possible, yet celebrating room for humanity to shine through with stray notes and occasionally un-synced beats?

Is it more "authentic" to sing in a head voice, knowing that "proper" singing techniques may prune away one's rawness in coming before the Lord in brokenness?

Or is is more "authentic" to master classical singing styles so as to increase one's range of dynamic and timbre, thus bringing emotions to the Divine in a musically sophisticated way that expresses complexity?

My aesthetic perceptions are so influenced (tainted?) by my upbringing and my highly individualized taste.  How I wish I would get out of my own way and just allow myself to appreciate worship for the intent and effort behind it!

Scripture shows that God honors commitment to excellence, but that He also accepts us just as we are when we approach His throne.  I suppose there will always be a (healthy!) tension between wanting to please God with our efforts and admitting that we will never measure up.  I hope that this tension will continue to drive me to the Source of true Good Taste (Ps. 34:8--"taste and see") and allow Christ to live through me, defeating both self-reliant pride and self-defeating perfectionism.

In Search of Authenticity

I've posted quite often about my thoughts on identity.  Today, I'd like to gather some ideas about authenticity.

It may seem strange, but I'm not really going to offer a definition of what authenticity means.  Instead, I'm going to try to sort out my own intellectual and experiential history with the notion of authenticity--whatever it means!

One of the books I enjoyed reading the most during my graduate studies in modern Chinese history at USC was titled: Sovereignty and Authenticity: Manchuko and the East Asian Modern.  It's been a while since I read it, but the most important thing that remains with me from my reading of it is that authenticity--and more importantly, claims to authenticity--have powerful effects.

I'm getting snippets of this in my Introduction to New Testament Interpretation course, where we are learning about the historical backdrop of the Gospels and the conjectures surrounding issues of authorship and audience.  Which Gospel was written first?  At what time?  For what audience?  No, really.  We truly want to know the who, when, what, why, and where of all of this!

So much reading to do!!

I attended a conference yesterday on Sustainability in New Haven, hosted at the Divinity School.  One of the speakers presented ideas of embodiment and authenticity within Christian liturgy--specifically in the context of communion.  He mentioned that authenticity involves embodiment and is always considered to be "better" than non-authenticity.  Authenticity is also culturally generated and has a moral component.

What is "authentic" for one group of people may be completely contrived for another, and I've begun to pick up on this as I attend chapels and concerts involving ritual and/or performance.  When I first arrived at Yale, chapel services were an amazing breath of fresh air.  Coming from evangelical churches in Southern California, my soul was starving for a worship sequence that was acoustic rather than amplified, intuitive rather than explained.  And I got exactly what I wanted.

I remember being blown away during my very first chapel service at the musical competency and sensitivity of both those leading and those participating in worship.  A simple breath or hand gesture on the part of the song leader was adequate enough of a signal to the congregation to slow down or soften its singing.  Human voices, accompanied by a piano or djembe, came together in unison (and moments of harmony) in an enclosed yet airy space lighted by the sun coming in from large windows, reverberating and surrounding us in an organic way.  In the Evangelical services I was used to, the singing of the congregation was often overpowered by the amped-up voices of the worship leader, shattered by the haphazard beating of the drum set, and undergirded claustrophobically by the bass guitar.  Only in select moments, when the worship leader motioned to his band to stop playing, would one actually heard the congregation singing.

As a classically trained musician, the Evangelical way of worship as an aesthetic experience never sat well with me.  My ears were insulted at every turn by some musical blunder--or simply by the un-sublime feeling that the sounds created in my being.  But worship is worship, and once I turned off my ears "in the flesh", as it were, and allowed my spirit to posture itself under what the true meaning of worship was, I became a willing part of the service, able to be touched to the core by what I was experiencing.  I was able to experience authentic worship with my whole being.

Still, I longed to experience a more liturgical/"traditional" style of doing church.  The few times in my life that I'd attended church with Catholics or Episcopalians, I'd appreciated the timbre of acoustic instruments and the sound of voices that were singing properly--from the diaphragm and not the throat, hitting the right pitches without sliding up and down between notes. For someone who has adverse physiological reactions to certain types of sounds, these services were a healing balm for a body that was too often "hurting" because of "bad music" in the church.

The beginning of fall obstructing my view of Marquand Chapel on the Divinity School campus.
See the steeple behind the leaves?
Is fall as a phenomenon more "authentic" in places like Connecticut than in my native state of California?

But last night, sitting inside an Episcopal church and listening to Oxford's "Schola Cantorium" perform various (unaccompanied) choral works in English and Latin, I found myself strangely uncomfortable. Looking around the sea of (mostly white) faces around me, and at the choir in front, directed by a congenial man with a British accent, I felt a bit alienated from it all--and then got upset with myself for feeling that way.  The performance was professional and well-done, the audience courteous and quiet.  Wasn't that as good as it gets?

My mind flitted back to a folk music festival in the park that I'd attended a few weeks back with friends.    I thought about my trip to Nashville back in April and my love for country music.  In that moment, the folk and country styles of music felt more "real" to me--more authentic…

Inside Christ Church

      This morning, I navigated my way through several chapters of John Dewey's Art as Experience.   I reflected on his notion that "an esthetic experience, the work of art in its actuality, is perception" (169). My perception of the concert last night (initially, at least), was that it was a very white affair.  I could not situate myself in that experience as a young woman of color, even though my classical music sensibilities should have been thrilled at the quality of "authentic" music and performance.  Interestingly, though, in the spirit of Dewey's ideas that “all objects of art are matters of perception and perception is not instantaneous” (191),  I found myself more amenable to the music by the second half of the concert.  I discovered that if I closed my eyes and simply listened to the music, that it spoke to me and allowed me to integrate and process the thoughts going through my head.  When something is art, says John Dewey, “integration is always effected” (270).  

“  Art is a quality that permeates experience”, and “esthetic experience is always more than esthetic”…**

     I'd like to end this post with a reflection on silence and how silence may be the most authentic kind of sound, when all is said and done.  (If I had time, I'd go through all the examples of silence in Scripture...perhaps another project for another day!)  

     As mentioned in my previous post, I attended a performance of Mahler's "Resurrection Symphony" on Friday evening.  After the first movement, the conductor observed a 5-minute period of silence, something that, according to the program notes, "Mahler requests" but is "rarely observed in performance".  In Mahler's ideal world, I suppose, that 5-minute silence would be just that…"so that the audience may collect their thoughts" (Berlien, Ben. "Gustav Mahler 1860-1911: Symphony No. 2, 'Resurrection'."  Notes on the Program.  Yale Philharmonia.  Woolsey Hall, New Haven.  19 September 2014.)  But in this performance, many things were happening during that span of time.  The orchestra tuned for a bit.  People coughed and shuffled their feet.  Audience members glanced around to see what was going on and finally resorted to their program notes for a clue.  It wasn't the best environment in which to collect one's thoughts on the life that precedes both death and resurrection, but it was, for me at least, a pretty authentic way to take in what going to a concert was all about--the stage, the audience, and the sounds produced by each.

      I have a feeling that my search for the layers of authenticity in aesthetic and religious experience is going to be an ongoing process during my time in Divinity School.  Stay tuned for more thoughts in the coming days!

* 

* p. 339

Beyond "How are You?"

I had a great Friday yesterday.  In the morning, I had lunch with my roommate on a cute little street named Orange.  This was the first time we'd hung out outside of making trips to the grocery store and WalMart.  In the afternoon, I played soccer with the Divinity School intramural team.  And in the evening, I attended a (student-priced $5) concert of Mahler's Resurrection Symphony along with much of the rest of the Yale community.  After the concert, I went out for pizza with a bunch of friends.  What a great way to end the week!

The best part of the night, though, took place on my trek back to the apartment after pizza.  A friend and I were talking about asking good questions of people, questions that go beyond the usual greeting. Good questions take thought on both the part of the asker and the answerer.  For example:  "What was the most stretching part of your week?" can add so much to a conversation than, "How are you?"

When in transition in a new place, one meets tons of new people and has to answer many of the same questions over and over again.  For me, this means telling people where I'm from (Los Angeles), what I did before Divinity school (worked for almost 5 years), and what degree program I'm (MAR Comprehensive).  I ask the same questions of those I meet, and that establishes a baseline for further communication.

A month in to my time at Yale, I'm starting to distinguish between acquaintances and friends, between those I just say hi to at school and those I make time for to hang out with on weekends.  Friendships take intentionality, so yesterday's conversation about asking meaningful questions was a great reminder for how to make my interactions with friends more sincere.

The friend with whom I had the conversation about asking good questions is one of the most sincere people I've met here at YDS.  In an environment where people are brilliant, quick-witted, passionate, and proactive, something as simple as sincerity is a sigh of relief that allows for restful (yet purposeful) interaction in the midst of a packed student life.

May I grow in my sincerity towards others, and may I practice the good habit of asking thoughtful questions!

My Facebook Status for Today:

Natasha Huang

3 mins · Edited ·

Tips for being a student:

1) Break up reading into smaller chunks rather than trying to do it all at once
2) Stand up for periods of time while reading--better circulation and breathing
3) Cook yourself a nice meal in the middle of a long stretch of reading
4) Go out for a walk to clear your head
5) Open the windows to get fresh air
6) Breathe 

#5 and #6 came from a conversation with Sari Sarah and Kevin A. McKoy
‪#‎YaliesNeverTooSmartforBasicReminders‬

We have just finished week 4 of classes at the Div school, and reading is getting heavier by the day.  Papers and midterms also loom on the horizon, so I decided to remind myself of ways that I stay sane as a student by way of a Facebook status update.  (There's a saying in Chinese--and I'm sure in English, too--that the best way to reinforce or review something is to share or teach it to others).

I'll add here that everyone has specific ways they study (or don't study).  A few of my individualized study preferences include:

I can't study with music on.  With the exception of Gregorian chants--sometimes.  My ears are way too sensitive.

It's hard to study in a library.  I love the atmosphere, but I feel a bit cloistered.  Plus, there's no fresh air!

It's also hard to study outdoors.  I've tried, because I love the outdoors.  Problem is, it's just too wonderful, and I get easily distracted by sunlight, foliage, and critters.

So, I study in my room, with the windows open and no music on :)

One of my favorite meals to cook for myself: pork chops and string beans!
I also love to start cooking at 4 and have dinner at 5!

Missing Home

I've been in New Haven for just over a month, and as the crispness of fall has quite suddenly overtaken summer warmth, homesickness has also descended upon my heart.

Generally, I love to hate LA, but I am also proud to claim it as my roots.  I'm not a fan of the culture, the smog, or the traffic, but I have history with and strong ties to both places and people there.

Here is a list of things I miss from home:

• My family.  My parents are the cutest, and I miss seeing them interact with each other and interacting with them.
• My former roommate, and the apartment we shared.  I miss the brown floors of the apartment and the brown that is her hair!
• My violin.  I think I'm going to go crazy if I don't play one soon.  Thankfully, it will be arriving sometime next month, along with my parents, who are visiting me during my fall break.
• Palm trees!  The tall mountains of SoCal.
• Being at home when my mom teaches piano students.  She had a student piano recital this past weekend, and I was quite sad to miss it.
• My ultimate frisbee crew.  Love my Asian American dudes (and dudettes)--and the fact that my brother and I got to play sports together for a season!
• My Scripture Memory Group, whom I affectionally dub "Sierra Madre Gals".  
• My church, and the prayer team there.
• My job.  My coworkers and my clients!

I have been so blessed to have a roommate, friends, a church, and a small group here in New Haven.  In a way, though, being able to slide into my new role and "belongingness" here has made all the more poignant how much away from home I am now….

...I am getting along well with my new roommate, which makes me think back to my former roommate

...I hear quality music on an almost daily basis at Marquand Chapel, which makes me long to play my violin

…I have taken a day trip across 2 states with friends, which drives home the fact that New Haven is now my point of departure

…I am a member of the Divinity School soccer team, which makes me miss my ultimate frisbee friends

…I have joined a home group at church, which makes me miss the prayer team at my old church

…I am learning so much in my classes, which makes me nostalgic for my BSF days

…I am reading Hebrews during personal quiet times, which makes me so grateful for the Scripture Memory accountability I had in LA while memorizing Hebrews 11

…I am enjoying the more flexible schedule I have as a student, which reminds me of the job I left to come here…

As I settle in this New Haven of mine, may I never forget the warm home I had in LA and the sunny faces that still wish me well from across the country.  They were some of the best people in the world, and they treated me like gold.  I can't wait to fly westward on December 18th for Christmas Break!

Relational Introvert, Emphasis Introvert

Being back in school has provided me with the kind of organic community that I'd been missing and longing for ever since college ended.  Social interactions around campus are fluid and friendly, and the structure of class and chapel and special seminars creates space for meaningful dialogue.  On weeknights and weekends, I even venture outside of campus with friends, bonding quickly and easily as we explore New Haven, run errands together, or embark on an ambitious day trip to Cape Cod, Massachusetts.

As relational as I am, though, I cannot escape the fact that I am an introvert.

Being around people, no matter how intelligent, sensitive, and wonderful they are, ultimately drains my battery.  And after consecutive days of lively and fun social interactions, I'm pooped.  Amidst spending time with my friends, I've also neglected the most important Friend of all.  Sure, I've kept my internal conversation with Him going all throughout my daily moments.  But I haven't really sat down with Him and given Him undivided attention for a few days, and it hurts.  My emotions feel raw and numb at the same time, and I miss Him.

At least two things are going on here: I need to exercise some self-care and alone-time tonight; but more importantly, I need to spend a chunk of time with my best Friend, the only One who never drains me.  After driving my friends around New Haven and New England, I need to quiet my heart and stay put in His love and presence.

So that's what I'm going to do now.  I'm going to close my computer lid, and I'm going to crack open the cover of  the Word and commune with the Word become Flesh.

Relational Introvert, Emphasis Relational

I think I write about introversion a bit too much.  Please don't get the impression that I don't like people :)

I love walking around the Divinity school and running into people I know.  I love even the simplest human interaction of smiling at someone.

The last two Fridays, I've not really done any schoolwork or any introverted recharging.  I was too busy playing soccer, playing ultimate frisbee, swing dancing, and attending Shakespeare in the Park with friends.

I really enjoy my weekly shopping trips to WalMart and the grocery store with my roommate and find that it's a really neat time for us to be together.

As an auditory learner and a relational learner, I absorb class-related information when hearing a lecture or having a discussion about the material.  I can't just rely on solitary times of reading.

Hmmm…what else?  I'm kind of dorky, kind of silly, and I look way younger than my age.

I've really enjoyed getting to know different people at YDS and taking people up on their invitations to hang out.  It's amazing to me how quickly I've connected with certain people here and how eager I am to get to know more of my colleagues.  For while I love this opportunity to study a subject that fascinates me, I believe that I can learn just as much outside of the classroom through social interactions with my friends.  As long as it's not stagnant small talk and pointless hanging out, then I'm game.  (And I suspect that my fellow Divvies feel the same).

I've also been so blessed to have found a church in New Haven to call my spiritual home.  I think that cooking for/contributing to a church potluck pretty much shows that I have some level of commitment there!  And I'll probable be visiting a church small group sometime soon as well.

So really, I do love people, and I love relating to them in fun and meaningful ways.  It's just that, sometimes, I need to be with just me too, so that I the introvert within can be recharged in order to continue being relational :)

Speaking Up

In college, I was terrified of speaking up in class.

That was a terrible problem to have, because the Thematic Option Honors General Education program in which I was enrolled had as its very lifeblood USC's very own version of the Socratic Method: essentially, each class started off with the instructor asking open-ended questions about the primary texts.  Then, for the rest of the class, students were expected to contribute their opinions and to interact with one another in vigorous discussion and debate.

If I remember correctly, there weren't that many Asians in Thematic Option (I guess it didn't really behoove pre-med, engineering, or music majors to spend that much time engaging in Western classics when they should be coasting through normal GE courses in order to make time for more "important" things, like studying for the MCAT, doing equations, or practicing 8 hours of violin a day.)  I wasn't pre-med or an engineer, and I was probably the worst violinist in the music department.  So here I was, in the General Education Honors Program, "branching out" from the Asian crowd in fear and trembling.  Perhaps being a minority in a program that took a postmodern approach to Western texts just wasn't up my alley.  Perhaps being homeschooled for the 2 years leading up to college had undermined my academic and social confidence.  Or perhaps the internal-processing-introvert part of me simply preferred to hash things out in private and on paper, rather than engage in "dialectic processing" in a group with people I didn't know (and often didn't care for).

At any rate, the discussion portions of my grades were usually mediocre, and I always came away from classes feeling frustrated.  I went through college loving the readings, loving discussions on the readings that took place with friends outside the classroom, but dreading classes themselves. Graduate school didn't do much to solve that problem.  Classes--also heavily discussion-based--still proved to be frustrating and intimidating, and professors still told me I was too silent. My favorite part about my Master's in East Asian Languages and Cultures was the research and writing of my thesis, because it was a solitary endeavor.

Now, six years after taking my last class at USC, I find myself to be surprisingly confident and enthusiastic about speaking up in class at Divinity School.   What's changed, and what's brought about that change?

A few things, I think:

• Graduating into the working world, and having to participate at work meetings.  Whereas much of what had been discussed in my classrooms was theoretical or hypothetical, meetings at work addressed pressing issues that had real implications for clients that I cared about.  That definitely spurred me on to speak up!  I've discovered that advocating for issues and people is something that makes me lose inhibitions of voicing my opinions.
• Participating in BSF (Bible Study Fellowship International) for 5 1/2 years.  This is an involved Bible study that entails weekly homework, discussion, and lectures.  Talking about portions of Scripture with a group of ladies once a week became one of the few forms of "intellectual inquiry" I had once I started working, so I savored each opportunity to share my thoughts!
• Family talks around the dinner table.  Each member of my family is pretty opinionated, likes to read, and likes to think, so that makes for lively--sometimes heated--conversations!  Also, my brother attended a Christian liberal arts college where he had plenty of spiritual material to engage with, so I got a tiny glimpse of certain kinds of inquiry through him.

I really admire my classmates at Yale who are coming straight from undergrad.  I don't think I would have had the courage and the confidence to do this kind of thing back when I finished at USC.  I'm really glad to have had a few years away from academia, because now that I'm back, I'm ready to soak in every moment and to speak up.

Rest

The day after Labor Day, I took a little mini-daytrip to Jennings Beach, 26 miles north of New Haven.

It was a wonderful time of being by myself, and with myself.  I really enjoy my own company :)

I settled onto the sand, taking in the feel the beach.  Compared to the vastness of SoCal beaches, things here seemed cozy and calm.  Mostly families with children and retired couples occupied the shoreline, and the Long Island Sound that we faced had small waves that were soothing and gentle compared to the excitement of crashing waves that I was used to.

The waters beckoned to me, and soon I found myself first wading, then swimming, dog paddle-style, in the shallow area near the shore.  As my body met with the push and pull of the waves, my muscles relaxed even as they worked to keep me afloat.  The sun was warm but not too strong, and the waters were cool and refreshing.  I found myself smiling wide, smiling up at the sun and smiling towards the horizon where blue sky met blue water.

An hour passed, and still I swam in the water, submerging my head and attempting strokes in freestyle.  The wrinkling skin on my fingertips told me that I should seek rest ashore, so reluctantly, I made my way back to my mini encampment on the sand.  Lounging comfortably, I read a few chapters from Kate Chopin's The Awakening, enjoying the changing landscape of the clouds above.

The sun played hide-and-seek!

It brought me tremendous glee to think that, on a day when most  people were getting back to their routine, I was taking time off to rejuvenate myself and to rest my soul.

Interestingly, the sermon on church over the past weekend had been on rest, and it challenged me to find ways and rhythms of incorporating rest into my schedule.

Rest is something I greatly value but am still seeking to understand and practice.

A few of my personal takes on what rest means for me:

• Rest can happen even in the midst of busyness.  It's more of a mindset rather than a behavior, although mindset does influence behavior.
• Rest is a surrendering of things that weigh us down, an ordering of priorities towards what is eternal and important.
• Rest is not the same as being lazy, nor does it necessarily entail leisure activity.  There are days when I have very little on my schedule but do not feel rested.
• Rest requires a trust in God to provide for me and an obedience to the necessity of tackling the demands of life with both soberness and joy.

I don't always succeed in this practice of rest, but on the days that I do, I am much happier and more productive.

A few other thoughts on rest and what it means:

• Nature brings rest, but does one necessarily need to get out into nature in order to achieve rest?  What about people who live in the inner city or the slums, with no means of getting outside of that environment?  Surely, there must be a way to have rest in any kind of situation.
• Days off certainly help with finding rest, but there are so many people around the world who must work around the clock to even put food on the table.  How does rest happen for people like that?

Clearly, rest must be something that takes an amount of intentionality to achieve, and perhaps for some, even a kind of supernatural grace to find.

A final passage on which to end, a passage which I don't fully understand and intend to use for meditation:

Hebrews 4 
Therefore, since the promise of entering his rest still stands, let us be careful that none of you be found to have fallen short of it. 2 For we also have had the good news proclaimed to us, just as they did; but the message they heard was of no value to them, because they did not share the faith of those who obeyed. 3 Now we who have believed enter that rest, just as God has said,

“So I declared on oath in my anger,
    ‘They shall never enter my rest.’”
And yet his works have been finished since the creation of the world. 4 For somewhere he has spoken about the seventh day in these words: “On the seventh day God rested from all his works.” 5 And again in the passage above he says, “They shall never enter my rest.”

6 Therefore since it still remains for some to enter that rest, and since those who formerly had the good news proclaimed to them did not go in because of their disobedience, 7 God again set a certain day, calling it “Today.” This he did when a long time later he spoke through David, as in the passage already quoted:

“Today, if you hear his voice,
    do not harden your hearts.”
8 For if Joshua had given them rest, God would not have spoken later about another day. 9 There remains, then, a Sabbath-rest for the people of God; 10 for anyone who enters God’s rest also rests from their works, just as God did from his. 11 Let us, therefore, make every effort to enter that rest, so that no one will perish by following their example of disobedience.

Bubble of Blessing

So I'm feeling a little emotional today.

It's a little overwhelming to be in such a bubble of blessing when so much suffering is happening around the world.  Sure I'm here at Yale in order to grow and learn and someday contribute in a deeper way to the world around me.  Having spent a few years in the helping profession getting my "hands dirty" and helping others maximize their potential and find meaning, I do truly feel that the best way for me to continue contributing to the world around me is by taking some time off from my vocation to fulfill my own intellectual potential.  But I can't help feeling guilty for being at my dream school while others I know (or know of) have undergone/are going through difficult times...

A couple unjustly imprisoned abroad, unable to be reunited with family for months….

A woman of color who fought uphill battles with the administration of a Christian college and whose life ended with an uphill battle with illness…

Members of my own family who, due to upbringing, circumstances, or health issues, never got to live their dreams…

Is it selfish to soak up all that my present life has to offer, knowing that I am in an incredible place of privilege and a bubble of blessing?

Is it morbid to be constantly thinking of things that could happen that could prick (and pop) this fragile bubble of blessing and bring me toppling down from my place of privilege?

He said:

3 “Blessed are the poor in spirit,
    for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
4 Blessed are those who mourn,
    for they will be comforted.
5 Blessed are the meek,
    for they will inherit the earth.
6 Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
    for they will be filled.
7 Blessed are the merciful,
    for they will be shown mercy.
8 Blessed are the pure in heart,
    for they will see God.
9 Blessed are the peacemakers,
    for they will be called children of God.
10 Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
    for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
11 “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. 12 Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

Somehow, if we let Him, Jesus blesses those who suffer, those "with their backs agains the wall" (to quote the words of Thurman in Jesus and the Disinherited).  These "Beatitudes" have proven true for me in my own times of suffering, and I want to remind myself of them in this present season of non-suffering.

I'm no theologian, but I find it rather interesting--even a bit jarring--to read this next bit immediately following the Beatitudes:

13 “You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.

14 “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. 15 Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. 16 In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.

First, I'm being told about the hidden blessings--and the connection with God and His kingdom--that suffering brings.  And then I'm being told to put myself out there and to represent God and his kingdom.  I'm relatively comfortable with the idea of being "salt" that seasons food and enhances others, but to be a light upon a hill, shining before others--really?

The Divinity School happens to be located atop a Hill, and the pedigree of an Ivy League University will forever make me un-inconspicuous, I'm afraid.  There is so much I want to do for the world, but so many ways in which I feel desperately inadequate--"poor".  Yet, I am called to be "salt and light" for the world, even if it feels a bit presumptuous for me to consider myself as such.  Who am I to offer anything to others?  What am I doing here at Yale that will help me "saltify"--strengthen and sensitize--myself?  What kind of light to I represent?  The self-righteous kind?  A snobby one?  Or one that consists of good deeds and a deep respect for and awareness of poverty of spirit, grief, meekness, hunger, justice, compassion, pure motives, peace, and suffering and oppression?

At the end of the day, it's really not about me (says the person with a blog who writes about herself all the time….#irony!)  So I'm going to cease fretting about that it means to be salt and light and continue identifying with those that Jesus calls blessed, comforted, and inheritors of the earth, those who are filled and shown mercy, who see God, are His children, and own His kingdom.  They are the ones that matter, and their reward will be great in heaven.

A Different Reality

Everyday, I remind myself that this New Reality of mine is wonderful but won't last.

I love being back in school, and I am so glad that the journey of my life brought me here.  11 years ago, I began college at USC, undecided about my major but determined to use my life to make a difference in the world.  I was open to exploring "everything but math and science" and joyfully soaked up College in its entirety.  Classes were just a fraction of what learning was.  I learned new things by talking to dorm-mates and friends hailing from all over the country and the world; I learned new things by attending events and talks sponsored by various campus clubs; and I learned new things about myself by participating in some activities--and in not participating in other activities.

College gave me some of the best experiences of my life, but I can't say it prepared me for the "Real World".  Part of that was my own doing.  Learning practical skills that get me ahead in life has never really been my strong suit.  While classmates majored in things that would help them have lucrative careers down the road, I dreamed of saving the world and living out ideals to change things I didn't like about the world.  That mindset made classes relatively stress-free, for if a topic didn't seem relevant to my ideals or interests, I just didn't worry too much about it.  Meanwhile, my classmates hemmed and hawed over how to navigate their workload and please their professors.  At the time, I felt sorry for those living under self-imposed pressure to succeed in school so that they would later succeed in life.  I just didn't see things that way.

A year or two out of college, however, I envied those same friends as I found myself having difficulty adjusting to the "Real World".  I think (and have heard) this is pretty normal for college graduates.  Everyone has to define themselves and to make their own path in a confusing society that pulls in many directions.  While my classmates were also having struggles of their own, at least the majority of them were working at good jobs that paid well.  As for me, I was living my dream of doing music therapy at a hospice in a program that I created, something I had been preparing for and wanting to do.  Yet, I longed to go back to school and deeply missed the learning environment that school provides.  I missed the easy socializations that centered around things I valued in life: learning, conversation, and hospitality.  Socializing in my new reality seemed to consist of working, complaining, and eating out (to spend the money earned by working).

In my Southern California context, working young adults didn't really have you over to their place to talk about subjects you'd been reading or thinking about.  They talked about the best restaurant deals in town and the newest place to get a smog check.  They saw you as where you worked, what you did on weekends, and what you spent your money on.  I knew that I would suffocate if I stayed in that environment much longer, and I looked for ways to get out.

Now that I'm finally here, back in school, I am fitting right into the lifestyle.  The first day of classes was a bit of a shock to my system, and my brain felt like it would explode from the amount of knowledge and reflection required of me.  But I soon bounced right into learning mode and found myself loving things by the second week of school.  It almost feels like I never left school and that this is how I was meant to live my life.  I worked for nearly 5 years in between USC and Yale, but those 5 years feel like nothing more than a dream.

Which is why, everyday, I have to remind myself that this New Reality of mine is wonderful but won't last.

Notes from the Quad

"Notes from the Quad" is a publication of Yale Divinity School.  Their most recent article featured a picture of yours truly.  I was sitting in a class titled "Ministry and the Disinherited", discussing a book called Jesus and the Disinherited, when my friend and classmate pulled it up on her computer to show me.  Our class is made up of people from different backgrounds and walks of life.  Refugees of war.  Individuals who grew up in poverty.  And, myself included, individuals who grew up privileged….

Geographies represented in this picture: Taiwan, West Coast, East Coast, Jamaica, Germany
Faith traditions represented: Seventh-Day Adventist, Lutheran, and everything that I have come from: Baptist, Congregational, Pentecostal, Charismatic, and Evangelical.

As much as this makes me feel like a #PosterChildforDiversity, I also find it strangely congruent with some of my recent musings and posts (see my two August posts on "Identity") and hopefully indicative of what I'd like my time at Yale (and life beyond that) to be about.  Can I just say that, as much as I have mixed feelings about being in this picture due to my "make and model" (Female: Asian, 1986), the snapshot itself gives me a feeling of exhilaration?

So, instead of spending time and thought on deciphering what kind of PR move it may be on Yale Divinity's part in choosing this picture for their publication, I'll just say that the moment captured in this picture:

• Was truly a candid picture of a genuine moment.  I had no idea someone was taking a picture!

Also:

• That handshake was the beginning of one of the best "get-to-know-yous" I had during my Divinity School Orientation.  I met TONS of people during Orientation week, and not every group conversation felt like it flowed and had life to it.  This one definitely did, even though it was one of the briefest :)
• Not every person I met at Orientation became my friend, but I am still friends with (and have really come to appreciate!) 2 out of the 3 people I met in the picture.  In fact, we are all in the "Ministry and the Disinherited" class together.

And last but not least:

• This is probably, pun intended, #Hands[Not]Down,  THE most flattering picture of my right arm I have ever seen.  It gives you the illusion that my arms are toned and non-flabby.  It's an illusion, but I'll take it!