I’m not sure what it was that Bishop Packard knew or perceived that led him to ask me, as we planned my trip to Springfield, MO and the Assemblies of God flagship seminary there, if I were afraid of being overwhelmed. I found on retrospect that I was obviously merely in a state of denial in my protesting that I was not afraid.
Am I alone in suspecting that I was resting on a subconscious sense of superiority and feeling it to be the dark legacy of the Episcopal tradition in its elitism and self-importance? My prayer, as I went, was to be more open to being led by God, to deepen my reliance only on God.
I was sustained and encouraged to take the trip by the palpable sense I had of being loved by the dean of the seminary. How could that be? It speaks, I reckon, to the quality of his faith which is large, encompassing, personal and passionate.
Somehow, Joe had conveyed a sense of the love of God to me in the brief overview he’d shared of the story of his life over a drink with colleagues at a conference in New York, his presence in our corporate conversation with our colleagues, and in a nice note to each of us afterwards.
I was drawn to knowing more, to being in that presence.
So the choice was obvious, though painful, when I discovered my reservation had not been confirmed on the Sunday of my departure. Bad weather wreaked havoc at the airport; my flight was delayed long enough for me to consider my options.
I could get a ticket on my planned flight, but it was exorbitantly expensive. Going the next day would get me into Springfield too late to take part in the dinner party Joe had arranged with his family at his home for the instructor of the class I went to see, a few other invited guests and me. Since part of my mission was to learn more about Joe and how he lives into his giving up his life for his faith, missing the dinner, which could be the only opportunity for me to engage with him on the level I was seeking, seemed the greater waste than the material cost of getting there.
In view of the sacrifices I know he had made in his life, and the risks he had taken, how could I let a little thing like the cancelled reservation get in the way of furthering our dialogue? How could I let Bishop Packard down?
In an attempt to “do as the Romans do,” I looked for a “sign” and weighed my options. I relied on seeing if I could actually get there that evening in spite of all the delays and cancelled flights. It could be that I would get stuck in Dallas and only get to Springfield on Tuesday after all; in which case, I would delightedly go back home and curl up with the New York Times and call it a day (or two!).
The connection was alive and I got on the flight. Manny Cordero, the instructor of the class I went to see, had suffered a similar fate to my own in getting bumped around from cancellation to cancellation. As I became aware of and was trying to get on an earlier connection in Dallas, I heard his voice over my left shoulder, “Get on standby, Maggie,” and so I did.
It was a God-send that Manny was there. That flight got in so late that the car rental place where I had made a reservation was closed by the time we got there. Manny gave me a lift to my hotel and picked me up the next day.
His class was an unendingly intense (read: overwhelming) and profitable experience. Manny oversaw the proceedings with uncommon grace, humor and sensitivity and a plethora of stories from his rich and varied experience as a chaplain for the Federal Bureau of Prisons.
The students and I appreciated the experiential dimension he brought in addition to sound didactic theory and structure, going far beyond the usual book-learning pedagogy of seminary classes. In the experiential realm, we went to the morgue and trauma center of one of the local hospitals one morning, had a simulated traffic accident played out in the parking lot that afternoon, had an engaging presentation from a funeral director and demanding exercises with role-playing, values clarification and even preaching exercises. The students were sensitive, creative and searching. I only wish there had been more time.
But it was enough for me to endorse warmly and enthusiastically the Assemblies of God and this course in particular for chaplains in the Episcopal tradition. The seminary as a whole is a warm and welcoming place—something that Joe has obviously cultivated and in which he takes deserved pride.
In addition to the dinner on Monday night (more on this below), Joe and I managed to have a couple of conversations throughout the week. He kindly introduced me to Chaplain (Colonel) Scott McChrystal, USA, retired military/VA Representative and Endorser, and we had a wonderful conversation about the kind of church, the kind of chaplain and the kind of training they seek to provide.
Later, Joe gave me a brief but articulate and engaging orientation to his faith, his philosophy of education in general, and the pedagogies involved in their course offerings. They are satisfyingly, compellingly complex and challenging. And I still want to know more. In my deepening appreciation for Joe, I came to understand that his work there is testimony to his love of God and his determination to make God real.
Generously and liberally, as dean he endorsed a very kind, impromptu invitation for me to visit and comment in a weeklong systematic theology course taught by visiting professor Veli Matti Karkkainen from Fuller Theological Seminary. With a bit more warning, I might accept next time.
This was just one over the course of the week of the many encounters I had there, in which I was constantly reminded of the complimentary nature of my engagement with the Assemblies of God folks and that nothing, not denominational affiliation, expensive airline tickets, or false pride, could keep me from the love of God.
When the class was over, I went back to the seminary to say goodbye and thanks to the support staff. I ran into one of the students from the class in tears in the bathroom. Our half-hour conversation at the sinks brought her laughter back and some palpable relief and she sweetly told me what a valuable mentoring event our conversation and my participation in the class had been for her.
In addition, questions on the nature of the church put to the visiting systematic theologian in an impromptu podcast he did with Joe seems to have drawn on Joe’s and my conversation with Chaplain McCrystal.
And according to Manny, his diction in the class, in accommodating me, was led to be more inclusive and less in-house dialect. In these events of complementarity and reciprocity, I was humbled and honored to think that God, through me, may have given something to them.
Joe and I will remain in conversation about how we might make their resources available; for the time being, enrollment of any of our chaplains as a special student for one or another of these one-week courses is a definite possibility and one that affords a unique and valuable experience.
As I suspected, the dinner at the dean’s house was a tremendous event. His and his family’s hospitality was unrivaled. But the highlight for me was in the devotional moment he invited us to share in at the end of the meal. He read a passage from scripture and exegeted it for and with us; his daughter offering a brilliant, sincere and sensitive challenge. And then we prayed.
Have you ever prayed with Pentecostals? It was overwhelming in the best sense of the word. The power of Joe’s prayerful affect, so palpably embodying an ever-present sense both of our sinfulness and the mercy of and need for reliance on the love of God, moved me profoundly.
Enough to remake a believer out of me.
Faithfully submitted!
Maggie Izutsu
