Ramblings of Daniel Ross-Jones
Faith & Values
Blame not the victim
Jul 27th
I had a lunchtime conversation today that degenerated into an argument about people living in poverty, specifically as it relates to food choices. It didn’t start that way, and talking through cultural understandings and expectations meant that likely we were not to end up on the same page regardless. It wasn’t a heated conversation; no nasty words were shared, and the two of us ended up walking away from the table laughing about something else altogether. But it was the type of thing that gets stuck in my craw for the rest of the day.
Rather than continuing to talk in abstract, I’m working on a fairly reasonable example of Person Doe, a single parent working two jobs for a total of 60 hours a week at minimum wage, raising their 12-year-old child in Chicago. Person Doe is the subject of this blog post from here on out.
Person Doe works two minimum wage jobs, 30 hours per week each. Chicago’s minimum wage is $8.25 per hour, $1 higher than the U.S. federal minimum wage. Person Doe grosses $495 weekly, $2,145 monthly, or $25,740 annually. Assuming federal witholding of 15%, state witholding of 3%, Social Security witholding of 6.2% and Medicare witholding of 1.45%, Person Doe takes home $368.03 weekly, $1,594.81 monthly, or $19,137.69 annually in net pay.
The 2009-10 Federal Poverty Guidelines as determined by the Department of Health and Human Services for Person Doe’s two-person family are $14,570. Therefore, Person Doe is earning just a hair over 175% of the poverty guidelines. This can be seen as both good and bad.
The average monthly rent for a two bedroom apartment in Chicago, according to one rental service in the city, was $1,842 in June of this year. A one bedroom didn’t fare much better, at $1,192, but we’ll assume that Person Doe has opted for the one bedroom unit. According to the US Census Bureau, more than 19% of Chicago residents spend more than 50% of their monthly income on housing alone; those who spend 30% or more of their monthly income on housing represent 37.9% of the entire city population. (The general, accepted rule is that one should spend no more than 30% of their monthly income on housing.) For the sake of argument, we’ll also assume that Person Doe has found one of the rare city apartments with all necessary utilities (heat, water, electric, cooking gas, trash/recycling) included, and that they do not subscribe to either pay TV or Internet services.
After housing costs are removed, Person Doe has $402.81 remaining for the month.
For transportation to and from work, Person Doe uses the CTA and a monthly system pass, costing $86. For Junior Doe, a $5 annual school riding permit for CTA is purchased. Subtracting those from the monthly cost leaves Person Doe with $316.38 remaining.
Person Doe and Junior, in spite of their urban living and suggestions for personal safety, opt only to have a basic landline telephone rather than cell phones. This service from local phone company AT&T costs $10 monthly; there is now $306.38 remaining for the month.
The biggest necessity that has been unfulfilled has been food. Because Person Doe’s income is between 130 and 185% of the poverty guidelines, Junior qualifies for the reduced-price school lunch — a cost of $.40 each school day, or $8 in a four-week month.
But of course, people say, this situation must qualify for SNAP — the program formerly known as food stamps. Not so. Even though after all these other necessary expenses are deducted, in an example that is both very real and one in which people find themselves every day — because Person Doe grosses more than the allowed $1,579 for a household of two, no additional social programs are available to them. Person Doe, working 60 hours a week at two jobs at the minimum wage in Chicago, utilizing public transportation services, living a no-frills lifestyle, taking care of a 12-year-old child, is not eligible for SNAP benefits or other social service programs provided by the State of Illinois because their monthly income is too high.
The system is miserably, unbelievably broken. People who are working, who are attempting to pull their own weight, have to make the decision between simply existing and eating. (This example leaves out the entire question of health insurance altogether, mind you.) Person Doe is working. Person Doe is not simply sitting on the sidelines, watching this orchestrated injustice play out around them. Yet Person Doe is left with just $298.38 to make the rest of ends meet: purchasing school supplies for Junior, clothing for the two of them, and their basic food needs. Nevermind if one of them gets sick and they need to purchase simple, over-the-counter remedies. Nevermind if something breaks that needs to be fixed. Nevermind the need to keep a clean house, do laundry, or any of the myriad “hidden” costs in a household budget. Nevermind the entire opportunity to save money for a rainy day. To put food on the table and make all other things work, Person Doe has less than $300 to make it happen.
The average grocery bill for a family of two? $367, according to the Illinois Department of Human Services. That means Person Doe is officially $68.82 in the red.
To those outside the United States, and those inside the country who are puzzled by regular eating habits: this is the reason why so many Americans reach for the 10 for $10 processed TV dinners canned meals. This is the reason why $1 double cheeseburgers and $1 large Cokes at McDonald’s are a staple dietary item for so many people. When it comes down to it, there’s a reason junk food is called “filler,” and why the regular processed diet will prevail over organic convenience foods that cost even $1 more.
To those conservatives in the United States (and elsewhere) who believe the economic markets must be followed, or for those who still chalk this situation up to “personal choices” or “personal responsibility,” I ask a simple question: what do you say to Person Doe? What suggestions do you have for them? Or are you so ensconced behind your veil of privilege you refuse even to acknowledge the possibility that not only does Person Doe exist, but there are hundreds of thousands — millions, even — of Persons Doe who are victims of your own ignorance?
Scholarships, New Zealand, and Responsibilities
Jun 7th
Hello world.
I’m always surprised, humbled, and a little perplexed when I log in on my sporadic schedule to see the GJH stats: which posts have been linked to, commented on, or the general site visits. Every once in a while I receive messages based on my other writings on this site. When I receive those, I usually think, “Wow. I should write more — I’ve been meaning to, anyway.” But then life gets in the way, and the discipline leaves.
Vlogging never took with me, and I feel like it would be a really useful outlet for me. I enjoy writing, but I fuss over it. The stream-of-consciousness form of vlogging seems more intimate, more useful for what I really want to communicate. Perhaps someday.
In any event, the most pressing news is my departure for New Zealand in two weeks. I was at my home church in Milwaukee yesterday — delightful to see everyone, and a little disappointment that I haven’t been able to be up there as much in the past year as the last — and realized I needed to update this blog to publicize it and stay in touch during my travels.
I will be doing a short-term ministry internship with the Community of Saint Luke in Auckland, New Zealand. It is a progressive, Christian community affiliated with the Presbyterian Church Aotearoa New Zealand with a strong community center and ministry in the Remuera and Newmarket area of the city. I’m excited beyond words to experience cross-cultural ministry in this way, to learn of new ideas for ministry in an environment decidedly different from North America.
When I was on my way to the Parliament of the World’s Religions in December, I had the opportunity to stop in Auckland and meet my supervisor, Rev. David Clark, along with a number of members of the congregation. I am sure it will be a delightful experience and that I will return in August with more ideas and learnings than I will have time to test and implement. My main areas of work will be in worship, pastoral care, community mission, and personal interviews and research in the area of cross-cultural dialogue.
The second big news for today is that I am officially a UCC scholarship recipient. In March, I applied for the William R. Johnson Scholarship from the national church, and today I received a letter informing me I was chosen as one of the recipients. It’s not a large sum, but it effectively doubles the denominational support that I have received for the past two years.
Finally, I’m feeling torn between multiple responsibilities, wishes, desires, and dreams right now. I don’t feel it to be necessary to write about most of it, but prayers and good thoughts for clarity, strength, and affirmation would be appreciated.
Feed My Sheep
Jan 24th
In 2011, I will graduate with a master’s degree. With a cumulative $94,000 in educational debt, $60,000 of which applied toward master’s-level education, I can anticipate an average $30,000 cash salary[1] for my eventual position (which requires the master’s degree I will have obtained as the minimum). The average cash salary in the United States for a position requiring a master’s degree is a little more than $61,000.[2] If my degree is classified as a professional degree, as many agencies do, the gap becomes wider, as the average cash salary for that educational standing is $100,000.[3]
The organization I represent is part of the largest family of organizations in the world. Collectively, we operate the largest system of education, health care, human rights advocacies, community centers, and more. We promote values-driven lifestyles, protect the inherent worth and dignity of all people, and respond to crises both natural and human-made. My organization alone raised more than $250,000 through its Web site in less than one week for direct aid to the victims of the recent Haitian earthquake.[4]
Foundational documents, leaders and philosophers representing my organization and its wider family challenge myself and others affiliated to call our governments to attention of those on the economic margins by legislating just and fair minimum wages, family leave benefits, health care distribution, and more social justice initiatives in response to our core beliefs. Personally, I have participated in countless direct advocacy and letter-writing drives connected with my organization leading up to the first increase of the federal minimum wage in the United States in a decade.
Here’s the irony: myself and many of the rising leaders in my organization – necessary flow for any healthy structure – are receiving a better deal from that very government than our own organization.
My educational debt is guaranteed by the U.S. federal government. Approximately one-third of the total amount is financed through the Stafford Subsidized Loan Program. The government, during periods of loan forbearance and deferment absorbs the interest on that portion of the debt. The majority of the remaining two-thirds is financed through the Stafford Unsubsidized Loan Program, which provides lower interest rates than comparable private loans, capitalizing on the government’s economy of scale and encouragement of higher education.
After I graduate and begin to work, my cash salary will likely be at a level that I will qualify for the Income-Based Repayment Plan, that caps monthly payments at a set percentage of discretionary income, around 10% or lower. It was established by Congressional legislation in 2007 and designed for those, like myself, who are pursuing careers in lower-salary areas like non-profit leadership, education, or public service.
My vocation is one that my federal government claims is “in demand” in many of its branches, most notably in the defense forces and prison bureau. If I were willing to offer at least five years of active service in the military following graduation, I would receive roughly 20% higher cash salary pay versus my organization, and also federal loan forgiveness, much higher retirement pension contributions, more generous fringe benefits, and experience the old adage, “the military takes care of its own.” If I were to walk down to the recruiting center right now and enlist, the benefits would grow as the government would pay for the remaining cost of my education, I would begin receiving a commissioned salary while in school, among other benefits.[5]
While I am in school, as my income for 2009 was roughly $8,000, I receive direct government assistance from the State of Illinois in the form of food stamps – about $200 each month, or $2,400 annually. I utilize government-funded public health clinics as I can’t afford the out-of-pocket costs to even visit my own organization’s medical centers.
So here’s my question: why is the government supporting me more than my own organization, the United Church of Christ, when I am in training to be a pastor? And beyond that, why does the UCC say that’s OK?
The UCC, along with the majority of mainline Protestant churches, appeal to what the Roman Catholic Church calls a just-wage doctrine. The U.S. Council of Catholic Bishops, in a letter to Congress supporting an increase in minimum wage, summarizes the doctrine simply: “Wages must be adequate for workers to provide for themselves and their families in dignity.” Under this theology – one which, I might add, is the predominant theme in progressive Christianity and floated freely in the classrooms of our theological schools, including my own – to appeal to free markets and open trade in the commercial, private sector is to idolize a false god.
So why does the church – the UCC or of any other stripe – fail to apply its own doctrine internally? Why is it that as the cost burden of theological education has systematically been shifted from denominational funds onto student tuition over the past 25 years? Why is it that base salary for mainline Protestant ministers in one state has effectively remained stagnant in the past decade while the cost of living in that state has increased roughly 20%?[6]
In John 21, Jesus and Simon engage in a conversation where Simon is commissioned by Jesus to “feed my sheep…take care of my lambs.” While far from perfect, it appears that when it comes to at least one sector, the government is taking far greater strides than those organized who affirm Jesus’ words.
[1] Source: Wisconsin Conference, United Church of Christ
[2] Source: United States Census Bureau, 2006
[3] Ibid.
[4] Source: United Church of Christ
[5] Source: U.S. Navy
[6] Sources: Wisconsin judicatories (UCC, Evangelical Lutheran, Presbyterian, United Methodist), U.S. Census Bureau, U.S. Department of Commerce.
“All that jazz”
Jul 31st
This story from today’s Monitor highlights the shifting demographic trends along the American religious landscape. Two quotes in particular got my attention:
“The problem of shrinking churches is one that everyone has to deal with,” Dr. Walsh says. “Evangelicals are just better adapted to deal with it because in their structure they don’t require seminary-trained pastors, pension funds, and all that jazz, which the mainline churches assume.”
Personal educational standing aside — seminary-trained pastors should not be viewed as a luxury, something unnecessary. Since when has education turned (once again) into something for the elite? The entire idea of being a disciple is one of learning, growing, increasingly understanding. Sure, there is much to be frustrated with in the current model of theological education — not the least of which is the complete and utter lack of meaningful financial support from church conferences and local settings when one of their own decides to enter seminary, or the astronomical cost of pursuing the meaningful education. The solution isn’t to do away with the structure entirely. The solution is to take a good, hard look at the delivery of education.
I’ll pick on the two denominations with which I am most closely affiliated at the moment: my own United Church of Christ and my seminary’s Presbyterian Church (USA). Both have some shared history in America (especially in the New England region cited in the story). Both have some common theological understandings as part of the Reformed branch of Protestant Christianity. The UCC boasts a little over a million members, the PC(USA) a little over two million. Both are shedding members, though the UCC’s decline is a little less pronounced than the PC(USA).
Within the UCC, we have seven seminaries, including two in New England, one each in Pennsylvania, Missouri, Illinois, Minnesota and California. While there are certain “distinctives” of each institution, largely each is recognized as providing an educational program that is liberal to very liberal in theology and traditional in approach. Combined, these seven seminaries graduate roughly 150-200 individuals each year. Less than 10% of these graduates are under the age of 30, which reflects strongly in less than 5% of all ordained leaders in the UCC today are under the age of 40. More on that in a moment.
The PC(USA) has ten officially-related seminaries, including two in Georgia, and the rest in New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Texas, Kentucky, Virginia, North Carolina, Iowa, California, and Illinois. There is a greater theological difference among their seminaries, but for the most part each reflects a denominational tradition that highlights social change, global justice, and a strong emphasis on confessional theological tradition.
The average annual tuition at all of these institutions for the most recent year available (2007-08) is $13,500. Over three years, that brings the tuition cost alone to $40,500. Assuming the present average federal loan burden of undergraduates today ($23,200), that brings the potential cost of education for under-30s to $63,700.
Older students, typically, can buffer the cost of seminary with life savings, advances from or cashing in on established company-provided retirement plans, part-time education models, or the support of a spouse that continues to work in their profession. Some older students sell homes when they come to seminary, and use some of the proceeds to fund their education. Unencumbered by debt from their undergraduate years, these students essentially save at least $23,200.
Upon graduation, a freshly-minted minister can expect to start at $31,000. And that $800+ monthly student loan payment younger ministers have? Better pick up a side job at Burger King.
Most assuredly, there is a problem with this system. Dare I say we have too many seminaries, established on tired old divisons of denominational life that no longer apply in the same way they once did. No school wants to be the one that closes, but mergers and joint operating agreements, reducing the number of seminaries serving a shrinking population are necessary. Abandoning the model is prudent, abandoning education is reckless and irresponsible.
The other quote from the story reminds all of us that education in and of itself is not an end:
“When somebody needs a hand up, it’s great to pray for them,” Steadman says from the pulpit. “But the Bible tells us it’s not enough to say, ‘Go and be clothed and be fed.’ We’re supposed to clothe and feed them.”
There is an old African proverb we all would be good to remember. “When you pray, move your feet.”
Bus pass for Jay
Jul 28th
I met a stranger today; his name is Jay. If you’ve been in downtown Chicago along State St. in the past two weeks, you’ve probably walked past him. Today he was standing at the corner of State and Washington in front of the Old Navy, holding a plain brown cardboard sign that reads in big, black block letters:
LOST JOB
LOST HOME
LOST HOPE
CAN YOU HELP ME?
Jay can get lost in the crowd sometimes. People hardly notice he’s there. At first glance, he looks like so many others whom I — and possibly you — walk past each and every day. A used Chipotle cup in his hand with roughly $2.50. A scruffy face. But his voice is one that isn’t easily toned out. There is a sense of despair, sorrow as he speaks. “Can you spare some change so I can eat?” he pleads. “Can anyone help me out?”
As I think about it more intentionally, I saw Jay standing in that same spot last Wednesday at the same afternoon hour. I walked right past him then. This time the light was red. Cars were whizzing past. Maybe its because I had to stop. Maybe its because I was still futzing with my iPhone to pick just the right mix for my bus ride back to my apartment. I don’t know what it was, but I simply turned to Jay. I looked at him and I said, “Hi.”
I think I confused him. Maybe, if one is feeling extra generous that day, one might reach into their pocket and pull out some change to throw in his cup. No eye contact is necessary, an exchange of words even less. The “professionals,” if I might call them that, have it down to an art form. Watch along Michigan Ave. some weekend. These people will deftly move from pocket or purse to cup without even breaking their stride or even their ongoing conversation. Its a combination of art form and a mental coping mechanism. One can walk away from the situation with the good feeling that they helped, without investing too much of themselves or drawing the attention of anyone else.
I certainly confused the people around me. A man catty corner from me, in front of me, turned around and looked at me with an expression that asked, “Are you talking to me?” He didn’t even look in Jay’s direction. A man who stands taller than six feet, even while leaning against the light post, was simply invisible to him. A woman next to me on the other side briefly paused her cell phone conversation to look at me with an equally puzzled response. Jay was in his zone, though, and it took a moment for him to register that I was speaking to him.
“Excuse me?” he asked.
“Can I take you somewhere around here to get some food?” I responded. “What’s good? What do you want?”
As I spoke to him, Jay’s eyes brightened. I looked closer at him. He couldn’t be much older than me — late 20′s, tops. His face was showing signs of someone who regularly gets food, but not nearly enough to keep the skin off the jaw bone. His clothes, while neat, were visibly worn out and used. His shirt was a gray tee, his blue jeans tattered and torn. He didn’t carry a backpack or have anything else on him.
Jay looked sad. There’s nothing else to describe him. Over my year in Chicago and two years in Milwaukee, I’ve seen a number of expressions among the destitute: lonely, discouraged, angry, frustrated, tired — oh, so many tired. Rare is the person who simply looks sad. I’m sure Jay was all of those other attributes, too, but above all he was sad.
I have always imagined sadness is dangerous on the streets. Its vulnerable. Its unprotected. Sadness is raw and powerful. Unlike anger and frustration — which, I imagine, are the galvanized, second-generation children of sadness — it is exploitable. As a society, as a human race, we see that over and over again throughout our history and our interactions with others.
In any event, Jay began to talk back to me. It was apparent as he spoke that he is a good person, with a warm soul. He had a lively personality, his eyes came to life as he began to get more animated. I don’t imagine that part of Jay gets to come out much.
“Truthfully, I don’t want to screw with you,” he began. In an instant, I began to regress to the skeptical thoughts that I have been conditioned with as I live as an educated, white man in an urban society. He’s going to tell me he wants beer, I thought. He wants cash to support his drug addiction.
“Truthfully, I don’t want to screw with you, but I could really use a CTA pass. See, I sleep on the trains at night,” he continued. He told me how he’ll ride the Red Line just so he can sleep, but that “really the Blue Line is a lot safer.” Jay told me he was held up at knifepoint on the Red Line, that someone stole his wallet that didn’t have any money in it, just his CTA pass and an ID card. That happened “a few days ago.”
I hadn’t noticed that the light hadn’t gone through its cycle yet. The confused man catty corner from me spoke up, just as the light was turning. “Psh,” he scoffed. “Yeah, right.” As he began walking, his call was clear, “Go get a job, freeloader!”
I don’t know if Jay heard it. He’s probably immune to it by now. But I heard it. I don’t know if Jay was telling the truth or not, but — human being to human being — he seemed authentic. I hadn’t even had much of a conversation with Jay yet, and I wanted to go punch the other guy simply for being a rude waste of oxygen.
Since Jay leveled with me, I leveled with him: I rarely carry cash, but I’d go run down to the Red Line station and get him a transit card if that’s what he wanted. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” he responded. “I know you’re busy.”
That sealed it. I had nothing to do. If I missed the #6 bus that was a minute away, according to BusTracker, then I simply caught the next one. “No, its OK,” I said. “I’ll be back in like three minutes.”
Jay’s eyes brightened up even more. It was like life was pouring back into him, from some far-off place that he doesn’t reach anymore. “Really?” he asked. I told him yes, and started walking down to the subway station.
As I walked, my higher reasoning started kicking in. You idiot, it told me. You haven’t paid your phone bill, your credit card is getting a lot more use these days, you still have assessments for the church to pay for, books for the semester are going to need to be ordered soon, and you overdrew your checking account this morning. I told my brain to shut up. I have a phone, I have a credit card full of fond memories (if even its maxxed out), I have the ability to serve in the church, I can always use the myriad libraries for books, and a quick transfer from my small savings will cover the overdraft.
I could have bought Jay a day pass; I could have even bought him just a one-use card. Either would have been the cheapest options, and both were definitely what he was thinking of. But I didn’t. I bought him a 7-day pass. That’s $23 more on my credit card. Practically and logically, that’s way too much. After all, Jay was and still is a stranger. But something made me press that button on the screen, and I don’t regret it. If he had walked away by then, I had a 7-day pass for myself. If he was still there, he has seven days of being able to stay dry at night when its expected to rain, of being able to enjoy air conditioning on warm, humid summer days. He can even go to some other neighborhood and beg for all I care.
He thought it was too much, too. I came back and handed him the card and the receipt. “Here you go,” I said. “I hope this works out for you.”
At first he was going to ball up the receipt and hand it back to me, “I trust you,” he said. Then he looked at the card and saw the big 7 on it. “Is this really a 7-day pass? Are you sure?”
I told him I was sure. He thanked me profusely, and that’s when he told me his name was Jay. Part of me felt guilty for not asking him his name earlier. I stood there and chatted with him for a couple minutes more; I learned that neither of us like to drink beer, that he finished high school and took some college classes before deciding to work in construction. The downturn meant layoffs for his company, and he ended up getting evicted because he couldn’t pay the rent. He’s always wanted to finish college, but he doesn’t know what he wants to study. His family doesn’t live around here, and so now he’s all alone and stuck in Chicago. Homeless. Riding on the L at night, hoping he can get some sleep.
After I left him and got on my bus (ending up getting on a #10, with an extra couple of blocks to walk) I realized how similar we are. Sure, I write letters to folks to ask for money for my education, but in the end its just like begging. Sure, I receive food stamps from the state, but maintaining them is definitely begging for basic nourishment. All my life I’ve been conditioned to believe I’m “above” begging, but when it gets right down to it that’s how I’ve been able to get along for much of my short adult life.
If I lost my job, menial and low-paying as it may be, I’d have to stand next to Jay and I’d have a lot more invisible baggage: $50,000 in student loan debt, $7,000 outstanding on my car note, the expectation of having food and shelter and health insurance. I’m a strand of a thread away from Jay.
And then as I began my walk home from the bus stop, I felt myself begin to cry. Of course Jay is sad — I’m sad for him. To endure the rudeness of people in such a way on a daily — probably hourly, or even more frequently — basis. And how sad am I that I continue to believe I’m better than those invisible people I pass on a regular basis.
I pray for Jay tonight. I believe his story to be true, and whether it is or not is really of no circumstance. I know he’ll have seven days of being able to travel the city, no matter what the reason.
And I hope I don’t see Jay again; I hope that his situation turns around, that he finds stable housing, an opportunity to work. But if I do see him again, I’m going to look at him, I’m going to recognize him.
I’m going to say hi, and ask him if I can buy him another bus pass.
GS27: Leadership development
Jun 27th
Eboo Patel addressed the UCC General Synod today, calling on our church to be a community of bridge-builders, developing and growing a structure of leadership for today’s pluralist America.
He encouraged the church to “build young people who are interfaith leaders.” With all due respect to Eboo (whom I have met on a number of occasions and am deeply infatuated with his work), I’m wondering if he’s met many of the congregations in our church.
With around 2% of our clergy being under age 35, we certainly don’t have a lot of young people in pastoral ministry. With one of the highest average ages among American church groups, the United Church of Christ has occupied itself with many of the issues that face its demographic position: ’60s and ’70s style community organizing, ’60s and ’70s style justice issues, ’60s and ’70s style leadership development.
We’re open-minded, non-scripturally-literal folk — we don’t focus much on ecumenism and inter-faith efforts not because we’re closed-off, but because we simply don’t know how. After it was apparent that we would not be a United Church as in other places like Canada, Australia and India, where a majority of the national Protestant bodies came together to create one unified church structure, we moved on to other things. We quit talking about our own faith. Rather than attempting to explain what we are, we took up our identity as what we are not: we became an anti- church.
And so we developed the status quo. We continue doing what we do because we simply don’t know what else to do. People died off, and we wring our hands in lament over a society that doesn’t refill the pews like it used to. Hot damn, we actually have to do something to get people to come in the doors! (Even scarier, we might even have to go outside them ourselves!)
I was reading a study not too long ago (I’ll Google it sometime and link from here) about how the majority of clergy surveyed identified as introverts. In the same study, lay church members placed the primary responsibility for outreach, membership development and recruitment (I hate the word “evangelism”) on the pastor’s shoulders. Hello? Does anyone else see a disconnect there?
Growing up, I learned the two things one doesn’t speak about in polite conversation are politics and religion. As I went through college, the two most popular topics among my peers were politics and religion. In the case of the latter, we all were finding our own ways in the world, accompanied by our own canons of experiences, books, and resources, because so many people didn’t know where to go! I have a number of under-30 friends who sought out advice and counsel from Christian pastors, only to end up claiming Buddhist and Muslim labels for themselves and initiating themselves in those faiths because their laypeople and clerics would speak directly to their beliefs! What a telling statement about so many of our churches today.
To the UCC, I hope that we keep Eboo’s challenge to us as we reimagine our church. The early Christian church of Paul’s day was deeply influenced by its encompassing Hellenistic culture of the time. Our own UCC has been deeply influenced by the American culture of the 1960s and 1970s. What does the church of the 2010s look like, and how do we build our leadership and structure our organization for the rapidly-changing, quickly-evolving future?
(Side note: this article and its follow-up from the Massachusetts Conference are over eight years old, but I believe a good, quick read to illustrate the demographic and financial structural flaws of our current system in the UCC and why it is absolutely imperative to change tracks.)
The real story of seminary debt
Jun 18th
An open letter to judicatory heads, seminary financial aid administrators, and all those connected to faith-based leadership.
When I graduate from seminary in 2011, I may have a cumulative $97,300 (1) in student loan debt. Based on an extended 30-year repayment plan, an average 6.80% interest rate and zero loan fees, my monthly payment will be $634.32 and amount to $131,058.98 in interest payments over those 360 payments. In order to afford that monthly payment, according to federal financial aid guidelines, I should earn an annual salary of at least $76,118.40. (2)
As a Student In Care of the Southeast Wisconsin Association, should I graduate and secure a call in an “average” Wisconsin Conference congregation paying moderate guidelines, I can expect a salary of $33,039 (3), or $43,079.40 less than the recommended salary for my debt load, representing a 56% reduction. (4)
I grew up with a commitment to the church and have felt God’s call to ministry tugging on me throughout my life. Despite facing rejection from the church in the past, I continue forward in faith that God will provide. I find myself today receiving affirmation of my strong candidacy for ordained ministry: a pastoral identity, experience as professional communication staff in a middle judicatory office, a commitment to community-based ministry, a unique perspective from my generational location. I received my undergraduate degree from a church-related institution, and am building up my resume in seminary through two distinctive international experiences.
Yet as I look at the hard numbers, I feel I am forced up against a wall facing another round of rejection from the church in lack of financial support. Due to budget constraints at my school, McCormick Theological Seminary, my individual financial aid package was reduced from covering 88% of tuition to 55% for 2009-10. I must now take out an additional $5,000 in student loans to cover the shortfall, pushing my debt even higher.
Besides tuition, there are myriad other costs related to theological education: books, transportation, insurance, housing, food, communication, photocopies, etc. I changed my permanent residency to Illinois in order to qualify for government assistance in the form of food stamps, which has helped my bottom line each month somewhat. I work three jobs just to try and make ends meet, yet I still rely heavily on student loan money to cover housing and part of my insurance costs. (5)
I have sought out and applied for a number of grants and scholarships, including from our United Church of Christ National Offices, and either have not qualified for or been rejected from each and every one. I gratefully received a $500 stipend from the Association last year, along with $400 from my congregation (Plymouth, Milwaukee.) I appreciate the generosity of McCormick donors for providing a substantial portion of my education costs, yet as my loan balance inches closer and closer to the $100,000 mark, I become more apprehensive and concerned. Where is the church supporting me?
I ask not for a golden parachute, but as we as a church look at our future, we need to look closely at our future leadership. How we invest in our leadership, the requirements we establish for education, and the support we offer directly relates to how well we can attract and retain highly-skilled, motivated, and qualified individuals for our pulpits and ministries. Even more, it demonstrates our commitment to a Christ-like labor justice.
Notes: (1) Based on current financial trends; includes $23,000 in private loans from undergraduate education, $14,300 in subsidized and unsubsidized Stafford loans from undergraduate education, and up to $60,000 in subsidized and unsubsidized Stafford loans from seminary. (2) See financial aid calculator at http://www.finaid.org/calculators/loanpayments.phtml (3) For comparison’s sake, my first professional job following college, which required only bachelor’s-level education and was professional staff within the church structure, started at $31,250 in 2006. Based on real 2008 dollars, the UCC salary is actually less than my 2006 salary adjusted for inflation: $33,039 versus $33,345.75. (4) According to the US Census Bureau, the average salary for those with master’s degrees is $62,300. (5) Average monthly expenditures of $1,435 versus income of $650. Loan transfers to balance average $785.
Why didn’t I think of this sooner?
Jun 14th
I’m currently reading Barbara Brown Taylor’s new book, An Altar in the World. It appears a quick read, but in typical style, reading even a single sentence requires no small amount of “chewing” on my part, and so I’m taking my time slowly with this book.
In one of the chapters I just finished, she talks about how much more she feels connected to God through the natural world by simply being observant. As I left Conference Meeting this morning, I had a lot on my mind from the past weekend. I feel reconnected with my church after almost a year now in Chicago, and definitely more connected with the UCC form of church in Wisconsin. I was thinking of the many conversations I had — with people like Don Niederfrank, my mentor and minister at St. John’s UCC in Random Lake; Eliza and Shaun, fellow In Care-ians in crime; Bridget, Andrew, Lee, Kathy, Mary Ann, and Walt from Plymouth; the sizeable number of us using Macs of varied stripes and colors — and I wanted to think and process without distraction as I drove. Our theme this weekend was “Living Grace-fully” and centered around creation care and observance, so it connected with Altar in a unique way, too.
So I turned off the radio. Thanks to a dead rodent in the fan which gets removed tomorrow, and because of the beautiful day outside, I had my windows open. Highway 23 takes one through a number of small towns on its way back to Highway 45 to Milwaukee and points south (WARNING: Do not drive even a mile over the speed limit around Rosendale! A number of Conference attendees, though surprisingly not myself, will attest to negative experiences after speeding up before the speed limit officially changed…) and I was mostly on auto pilot. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon for a drive, and the highway-town-highway-town rhythm followed my own up-and-down thought pattern.
Then it happened: I began to hear the birds as I drove. I could smell the east-central Wisconsin pine attempt to cover up the decomposing creature lodged in my fan. I noticed the way people would walk along the sidewalk as I drove along the edge of downtown Ripon: leisurely, without the pressure of an impending appointment, appearing as if they’d be just happy to strike up a conversation about the weather if I had been walking down their same route. I noticed the way the driver in the car behind me was less than pleased at having to stop at the red light, anxiously ratting on the steering wheel with their hands. I saw how the sunlight seemed to dance off the metal pole barn in the places where peeling paint left exposed shiny silver.
As I sat in the drive-thru lane at the Arby’s I heard the quiet purr of my idle engine bounce off the wall, the background noises in the kitchen through the worker’s intercom headset. I looked at how this was the absolute edge of the town, nothing but a forested wall out the other side of my car, providing protection to the unknown space beyond.
I met up with a few friends in Kenosha, first to do some quick shopping and then coffee downtown on the lake. I noticed how the boats seemed to crawl out of the harbor, past the lighthouse and into Lake Michigan, leaving a small wake along their path. The warm sun and the cool breeze — without the former it would have been too cold to sit on the patio, without the latter it would have been too warm — cooperating in a way that seemed to whisper, “Come, grow. Experience life.”
This meditative tour continued as I left for my last leg back to Illinois. When I entered the tollway, the concrete barriers made me feel trapped, and the impending line of red taillights were like a screaming in my ears, “No! This is too much artificiality, too much speed where speed is no good.” I felt a little wasteful paying the Waukegan toll and exiting right away at Gurnee, but I was compelled to do so. I passed Highway 41, and I heard that same voice tell me, “Don’t turn here, keep going.” And so I did, passing Green Bay Rd. on my journey. I came to Sheridan Rd., the easternmost roadway throughout much of northeastern Illinois and southeastern Wisconsin, gently weaving its way no more than half a mile from the Lake Michigan shoreline. “This is where you turn now,” and so I did. What normally is an hour, hour-and-a-half trip from Kenosha to my apartment turned into three more hours in this meditative space.
Its funny to think of my car as meditative space. Its ordinary, plain. No one would call a 2006 Chevrolet Aveo with dead vermin lodged inside it a luxurious surrounding, and especially not considering that I “live in my car” with the back seat occupied by materials from a retreat back in the early spring and other random trinkets accumulated in a long-overdue cleaning and the front seat littered with trash from breakfast granola bars and too-frequent stops in drive-thru lanes. Its not an easy place to just zone out, either: us manual transmission drivers are engaged in four-limb driving, deftly maneuvering and manipulating pedals and gearshifts all but forgotten in the past three decades.
But today, it was. Void of just one everyday distraction — normally one I consider so indispensible that my iPod is rarely far from my side — I was able to simply be with my traveling soul, to be at least somewhat present with this earthly home of mine. When I finally arrived in my apartment parking lot, part of me didn’t want to leave that space. (The Kenosha coffeehouse stop, coupled with the tub of Diet Pepsi I had with my Arby’s order, mandated a quick departure nonetheless.) I doubt it will ever hold the same feeling again, but for this afternoon, it became a sacred space.
Annual Meeting faux pas
Jun 13th
I’m currently at the 2009 Wisconsin Conference Annual Meeting. (Click for official AM blog.) Some people would describe it as a sort-of family get-together, others would compare it more to a professional conference, and I’d agree in part with both of those descriptions. Basically, for those who are in church denominational structures, the annual judicatorial conference makes sense, because they are all the same just with a different title attached. For those who aren’t, there’s no adequate description that makes sense, because it just seems to be a bunch of old church people looking for an excuse to drink coffee and eat ice cream and fight about… something. (And, for the record, that description is partly correct, too.)
This is my first UCC Conference Meeting, and for the most part its been fun. I’ve enjoyed making new connections and getting to know more people in this adopted church of mine. People have asked me how I’m liking things, and I’ve usually responded, “A church meeting is a church meeting.” But I’ll admit to being a little bit of a junkie for things like this and letting my extroversion combine with a complete dorkiness for church polity. My confusion about UCC structures still abounds, but its nice to see that I can hold my own as I get closer and closer to that 2011 prime time.
I did, however, commit a little faux pas yesterday. As one enters the meeting space, there is a giant ceramic bowl filled with water, to call us to remember the waters of our baptism no doubt. As a sacramentalian, even with a memorialist theology, I was overjoyed to see it. There’s a comfort in ritual for me, and I always whole-heartedly support ways to keep the sacraments front-and-center in all forms of our worship life — and, as we’ve touched on slightly, all of life is worship.
I was excited. I was comforted. And then I did it: I dipped my fingers in the water.
And I crossed myself.
What normally comes with a feeling of humility, a reminder of my lowly place in the grand scheme of things, of a connectedness with millions of people throughout the ages and spaces of time was instead a grand recognition of where I was at that moment, caught with wet fingers and spots on my church in the crosshairs of death stares from some of those in one of the most low-church, non-liturgical Christian traditions.
What did you just do? was the question from their eyes. Do you think we’re Catholic?
But do you know what — I was a communion server, and noticed a couple of people cross themselves as they partook of the elements. Body of Christ, given for you takes on a different meaning when coupled with that simple forehead-belly-chest-chest-heart action. Its not a meaning of the substance of the elements, at least not for me. Its a meaning of ritual, of remembrance. Its a meaning that, no matter how many times I try to rationalize my mind away from Bloody Jesus of Substitutionary Human Atonement, the cross is still an unimaginably brutal form of capital punishment. Its a meaning that, no matter how many times I try to rationalize my mind away from the re-creation of that sacrifice for salvation and the idea of real presence in the meal, that this celebration is more than a snack of grain and fruit.
And without that cross, the meaning of the ritual would be irrelevant. It would be simply water in a bowl, perhaps some sort of consecrated water for ritual washing, but plain old tap water in a bowl nonetheless. The actions and meanings of our ritual matter.
But even beyond this, the promise of the United Church of Christ is not alignment with a heady, cold, militant, imageless Protestantism of the Reformed tradition — though certainly we owe a great deal of our heritage to that tradition. The promise is to be a place like the American concept of a melting pot, a place where a variety of theologies, doctrines, and practices can find support and people don’t need to check their minds or their Christian practice at the door.
So even though I know I committed a certain faux pas, I do not apologize, and even though I’ve been trying to “de-liturgize, de-Lutheranize, de-formalize” myself in order to fit in this new church family of mine, I’m not going to try to do so as much anymore. (Though to do this I’m going to need to instead work on “de-self-consciousizing” myself.) I’m going to cross myself, both at the font and when partaking of communion. I’m going to say “sins” instead of “debts” in the Lord’s Prayer. (I already do most of the time anyway because “debts” just feels so awkward still.)
That’s supposed to be the promise of this church of mine. And, if anything, it provides just one more avenue of opportunity for conversation and engagement, to meet more people and create more connections in my adopted church family.
Book review on “The Unlikely Disciple”
May 8th
About two weeks ago, I received one of my regular 15% off coupons from Barnes & Noble in my e-mail inbox. (I buy most of my textbooks through them, and paid the $25 for a membership at the beginning of the school year.) Normally I delete these messages and unwanted spam, but I was thinking of summer reading and decided to pick out three books, one of which is the new release, “The Unlikely Disciple: A Sinner’s Semester at America’s Holiest University” by Brown University senior Kevin Roose.
The basic premise of the book is simple: Roose takes a semester off from Brown to study at Liberty University, the Harvard of right-wing evangelicalism founded by the late Jerry Falwell. His goal is not to completely bridge the divide between the evangelical and secular worlds, but at least to start pouring the concrete footings, searching for the humanness behind the ideology.
For a post-modern, progressive faith bridge-builder like myself, I loved it.
If one is in search of ammunition against the religious right and support for Grinch-like condemnation, “Unlikely Disciple” will be of no use. If one is in search of conversion and submissive transformation, keep on searchng. If one is in search of stories like late nights in Dorm 22, boys-will-be-boys joviality, and a fair amount of levity and humor, pick up a copy immediately.
That’s not to say there isn’t pain in the reading. Roose’s writing brings the characters into 3D living color, causing the reader to share in his challenge of reconciling their often opposite beliefs from everyday actions. There’s also something to be said about knowing the theological underpinnings of the university’s operation and distinctives and knowing those things playing out. Multi-million dollar facility improvements for one of America’s most public and influential megachurches in an area of the country characterized for poverty and substandard living is gutwrenching, no matter how its sliced.
I also think, however, Roose’s intentions with this book reflect the modern/post-modern shift than he even addressed in his reading. In the epilogue, as he touches briefly on the transition of power from the senior Falwell to his sons following his death, Roose expresses some of the changes as Liberty “relaxes” its rules and tight control over academics and student life. These changes, like the softening of evangelicals in creation/environmental care, and Roose’s own openness to building bridges and the surprising reactions he receives when he spills the beans, so to speak, to his Liberty friends point to a foundational thought process that seeks to transform boxes and binary thinking. There are beacons of hope throughout the book that the same shift experienced in mainstream society and secular (or mainline Protestant) education is not completely lost among evangelicals.
Finally, I also appreciated Roose’s connections throughout the book to the projections people on the left cast on people on the right. While he is writing from an almost entirely secular context, I will take a certain amount of liberty with his work and include liberal mainline Protestants in his categorization of secular. The responses he received from his family members, fellow students at Brown, and others around him when he announced his attentions to “study abroad” and experience immersive cross-cultural engagement were exactly what I would expect from those around me in my own religious context. He demonstrates the work that is to be done on both sides of the left-right spectrum if we are going to bridge the God divide, and provides an excellent resource for those of us who don’t have the resources to immerse ourselves as he did.
