The Table Blog
On change, interfaith dialogue, and discipleship
by Brian Gumm – Saturday, January 30, 2010
Well, it’s a new semester and new set of circumstances that welcomes me to this final few months of my internship at The Table. Last fall, I got involved with The Table’s design team, which is now working on leadership and structure matters as we prepare to bid farewell to our visionary, team-building leaders: Gerald & Sara Wenger Shenk. It’s my prayer that my presence in these matters can be fruitful for the congregation and God’s continued work in our little group!
One item on my internship “learning goals” document this and last semester, deals with interfaith matters. In discussions with one of our fearless leaders, Gerald Shenk, helped give some clarity and direction to this. In the coming months, I hope to be taking my technical/web and organizational skills to develop an interactive, media-rich system for Abraham’s Tent. Hopefully by the end of the semester, we’ll have something to show for it. This activity will further enmesh me into the university community, as it will blend my roles at: the seminary (student), The Table & Abraham’s Tent (intern), and EMU Marketing (staff) and related connections to the university Information Systems division. And to think, I’m not even Mennonite (denominationally, at least)! You wouldn’t guess it by how immersed I feel here (which is a good feeling for me).
In a related note, Gerald gave a great colloquium presentation this past Wednesday called “Theologies of Plurality: Why we need to be in Abraham’s Tent.” That, coupled with an exciting session in a theology class at the seminary the next day, culminated in this cathartic writing project this afternoon, posted to my other blog:
Why can’t we be friends? – Restorative Theology
It’s a lengthy post, but if you dig theology and interfaith stuff, it might be worth the time spent. Please feel free to comment there (or here), as well. Quite a ways down in the post, I do reference a Scripture reading that we’re dealing with in the Lectionary this week: 1 Corinthians 13:1-13.
Brian Gumm is an EMS intern at The Table for the 2009-2010 academic year.
Sara Wenger Shenk: a leadership biography
by Brian Gumm – Sunday, January 10, 2010
Last summer for the CJP’s Summer Peacebuilding Institute, I took a class called “Leadership for Healthy Organizations.” One of the class assignments was to write a 12-15 page paper, a biography on a leader we have looked up to. I chose one of our fearless leaders at The Table, Sara!
I thought this might hold some significance and be of interest to some Table folks, so here is the final product, posted on the other blog I maintain:
Sara Wenger Shenk: a leadership biography – Restorative Theology
Brian Gumm is an EMS intern for the 2009-2010 academic year.
Calculate your leaps, mind the gap
by Brian Gumm – Saturday, January 02, 2010
(The following is being cross-posted here and on my Restorative Theology blog)
At first glance, it seemed like a no-nonsense jump. And that first glance was all the thought I gave it. With my body weighed down by a backpack and my pockets full of stuff, I took a few steps back from the edge, ran forward, and jumped. I cleared the gap just fine, but landed a bit too close to the edge for comfort. The extra weight on my body hadn’t quite been fully accounted for. Turning around, I looked down the gap that I had just jumped across. It wasn’t very wide, just a few feet, but it was deep. A long way down to the rocky bottom. Looking across the gap to where I had jumped from, I noticed that the ledge was higher than the small table-like shelf of rock on which I now stood. Looking to the left at the only other edge connected to the main cliff face, the gap was smaller, but the other side sloped too steeply upward, with no signs of adequate foot- or hand-holds.
On the face of a cliff within in Red River Gorge near Slade, Kentucky – in Daniel Boone National Forest – I began to get nervous.
(The picture above – taken minutes before I jumped to the rock shelf visible to my lower-left – is fairly descriptive of my attitude prior to the jump, having a certain “uuhhh…wha?” look about me.)
Hiking with me was my wife, my sister-in-law, and her husband, David. The picture below was taken later in our hike, across the gorge. The red circle indicates the rock on which I was stuck. (see the full-sized picture)
The following picture, again taken before I jumped, would be looking to the left of the red circle if you use the picture above as a frame of reference. The size of David in regard to the cliff should give somewhat of an idea of the scale. (see the full-sized picture)
Back on the rock, I paced nervously about, trying to figure out what to do. By then, David had come down to where I had jumped across and surveyed the situation. Before I jumped, I thought he might leap over with me, us both being adventurous outdoorsy types. But seeing the predicament I had gotten myself into…he didn’t. So instead of joining me in folly, he started helping me figure out what to do. I threw my backpack over to him to relieve some of the weight, and began psyching myself up to make the jump back across to where I had come from. But the image of long drop was hovering in my mind’s eye, and the light dusting of snow near the edge – potential slip hazard – where I would jump wasn’t helping either. David was poised at the other side of the gap, arm extended, ready to grab me. Once or twice, I counted aloud down from 3. Once I actually even began taking the steps toward the edge to jump.
But I couldn’t do it. I re-evaluated the situation. Walking back to the edge of the gap, I looked down again, then looked across. Would it be easier to run and jump, or do a standing jump across? By this time, my wife and her sister had made their way down to see what was going on. After a few minutes of watching David and I, my wife got too anxious and had to walk away.
Finally, we worked out a plan that didn’t involve me attempting to jump the gap, possibly falling to severe injury or worse. On another edge of the rock shelf, to the left of where I had jumped, with the gap that was much more narrow (but no less deep) and the cliff that was too steep for one person to climb up from the isolated rock shelf, the three people on the other side sat down in a chain with David at the end. They anchored themselves to each other, legs-to-arms, to support David at the end, sitting at an angle that would probably have me pulling him down off were he not supported by the others. On the rock shelf, I toed the edge and tipped myself over the gap like a domino, resting my hands on the main cliff just below David’s leg and outstretched arm. I found a foothold on the other side of the gap and put one foot over, along with the rest of my upper body already bridging the gap. Reaching up with one hand, I grasped tightly to David’s wrist, and he to mine. He pulled up, while I worked my feet up the rock and climbed up to safety. I was back on terra firma.
While I kissed the rock, everyone breathed a sigh of relief and we continued on our hike, which was a beautiful one. It took me about 15 minutes to come out of the mild emotional shock or trauma that I was experiencing. My prayers related to this experience – during, immediately after, and even now – are 1) thanksgiving for my family, who rescued me, and 2) for better foresight in my future dealings, whether outdoor/adventure-related or otherwise. Had my wits been about me, the whole ordeal wouldn’t have even transpired. There were a number of oversights I made leading up to the leap, and it was only through loving support and action that I came back across the gap.
May it be so for me, and whoever else may resonate with this parable.
Working out salvation
by Brian Gumm – Thursday, December 17, 2009
Lectionary texts: Micah 5:2-5a • Psalm 80:1-7 • Hebrews 10:5-10 • Luke 1:39-45,
“Salvation” is a loaded word in American Christianity. Some have been threatened by the word and have experienced it being described in ways that hardly feel like a saving act is being done. Sometimes this moves us toward not wanting to even utter it aloud in the presence of others, particularly young Christians. But the fact that the Bible, both testaments, uses this saving language so often (and not in a singular fashion) forces us to examine ourselves and ask: What is this salvation? What are we being saved from? In his letter to the Philippians, Paul urges the believers to “work out your salvation with fear and trembling” (2:12, NIV). This must be serious business!
So I invite you to read the Lectionary texts linked above and reflect on how our lives speak to our understanding of salvation and how these Biblical texts may be affirming and/or challenging that understanding. This post is intentionally brief. I’d like to see some reflections on this, if people feel comfortable doing so in the comments below, including with personal narrative reflections on salvation if that’s the route you’d like to take. If it hits too close to an emotional experience, don’t worry about sharing publicly. But do let the texts sit.