Sacred Places; the front of the room

I think I took this when we were preparing a book on the history of St. John Lutheran, Charter Oak for it's 125th anniversary a few years ago.

I struggled, I mean WRESTLED with whether or not to attend Seminary, I'd say from the time I was in Fifth grade until just a few years ago. One of the books that actually cured me of it was Luther's Three Treatises (one of which is the Babylonian Captivity of the Church) not your typical beach read. At any rate, all those years of trying to hear God's divine call (or is that Call?) left me with a certain amount of... sympathy for those in the office of public ministry. 

Just think of the responsibility to shepherd God's flock- but at the same time, consider the constant pressure and scrutiny of living under the microscope of some and up on a pedestal for others- when after all, you are just as human and just as needy and vulnerable as any of your parishioners. 

This view from the pulpit is pregnant with potential interpretations. No doubt for some it is evocative of the same feelings that any red-blooded American man would have given the opportunity to step into the batter's box or out onto the pitcher's mound of any major league stadium- or maybe what it's like for a high school football player to walk through the tunnel at Notre Dame or Memorial Stadium in Lincoln, Nebraska. 

On the other hand, for some is it like a writer facing a blank page (or screen) or an artist with a blank canvas? Perhaps for some it may seem like an actor peeking through the stage curtain. 

I know it reminds me of looking out over my empty classroom from my desk the day before school starts. Of course, I look at teaching as not merely an occupation but a vocation. Being entrusted to give young people the tools with which to think critically, communicate successfully and problem  solve effectively? It's an honor, a duty, a privilege, a divine calling and a sacred trust- which only the brave dare to take on.

I would think that at least those of you who stand in pulpits on any given Sunday can't help noticing that this photograph is devoid of people. Does that make it lifeless? Lonely? 

Does it infer a decline in attendance or some defiant exodus from the church in violation of the sabbath? No, nothing like that- I can't exactly intrude on worship time, conspicuously creeping about with my camera, let alone disrupt the service with my flash, so this picture is e missing the real building blocks in the temple, the souls out of whom God builds His true church. 

But I love that fact that what you see in this picture depends so much on what you bring with you. 

I tell my Art students that meaningful images are able to invoke feelings, evoke memories and experiences, or provoke at least thought or discussion if not reaction or revulsion. 

I think that even the fact that this picture is in black and white adds to how much it can invoke, evoke, and provoke.