Let me tell you a story

So, I have so issues with organized religion and I believe that those issues are very well founded. Maybe I'll go into that list in some other post, but the specifics aren't important to the story I'd like to share. Even though these issues exist and my faith beliefs are very broad and open minded, I felt called to attend a Divinity School for my masters. I chose a school that was relatively liberal, had a social justice background, and gave me a large sum of money. When I visited I made quite clear my views on religion and my beliefs, and I was encouraged and told that I would be a great addition to the existing environment. The story I would like to share is one that in which it was made pretty damn clear that my viewpoints were not really acceptable, at least to one prof.

All Divinity students have to go through this psuedo class that is meant to help us get acllimated and help us deal with any of the weird shit that comes to the surface when you decide to go to school to study religion in all it's manifestations for three years. Sounds like a pretty good concept if you ask me...at least as first. The first of these 'classes' is meant to help us develop our voices in telling our own stories, so we break into four groups to tell our relatively new classmates the stories of how we came to be at Vanderbilt. Simple assignment, no? The problem develops as each of my classmates tells their story, each one is couched in a "God spoke to me" or "God moved me" or "God called me" statement. There was even a sign given through the scales of a fish. While I can respect these stories, mine does not share such an epiphany moment, or even the idea that God spoke to me. While I do feel led here, I would not say that 'God' brought me here. I feel drawn by something greater than humanity, maybe we should call it the spirit, just for simplicity sake, and I feel that I here on the earth at this time to try and make this world a more just place. For me, that search for justice is tied to the believe in that greater spirit that unites humanity. I know it's a little new agey for a lot of folks, but deal, this is my blog and my life (I will always gladly entertain questions, but I will ignore attacks and conversion attempts).

Anyway, so everyone's telling their stories and talking of their shared belief in the Christian God...and then there's me. I waited until last because I really didn't want to go, and that sinking feeling grew with each new story. Now mind you, after each person has told his or her story the prof. (a Methodist Bishop), has thanked them and affirmed them...something along these lines "thank you for sharing your story, I'm thankful that God brought you hear." Hopefully you can get the dirft.

So, it's my turn, I have about 3 minutes until we have to gather again as the big group, I'm upset, and I try to start talking...and my eyes well up. In case you don't know me well...I do not cry in public, I hate being vunerable, and I hate crying. So, I'm trying to explain by personal aversion to organized religion, my belief in a greater spirit that connects us all, and the fact that I have no interest in preaching, that I would love to teach and do social justice work. Unfortunately, because I'm upset, it is not coming out as well as it should and everyone's either looking at me with pity or confusion or both. I kind of wrap up without really explaining a whole lot and the Prof/well respected Bishop says to me..."Thank you, maybe you were led here to find the things that you've been missing." Not only was I not affirmed, but I was spoken to as if I was lacking because I have differing views. This in a graduate school that requires the use of inclusive language in classrooms and class work and that touts it's diversity and social justice focus.

I am not missing anything. I am not here searching for the 'real' god or the 'real' church, I'm here to learn, here to develop, and here to teach. I am not looking to be saved, but it is quite clear that people here are looking to save me.