The Parable of the Faithful Potter...


I have one class left to complete my Masters in Theological Studies (MTS) at Drew University. I attended classes at night over several years and took a rather long hiatus when our daughter was born. The Dean of the Theological School (who I adore) called me and convinced me to finish up my coursework. I had to reapply because of the four year delay. I'm still waiting to hear, but believe everything has been submitted.

My last class will be a synthesis (what a word for a guy with a lisp) of what I learned at Drew as well as where I am today. I plan to do a presentation and paper on arts and spirituality. I need to prepare a detailed plan, but have a general idea of what I'll be doing. I also plan to make a dozen (or so) chalice's and paten's.

I've been thinking a great deal about what drew me to pottery (other than my dear friend Larry). To me, pottery is not just about form and function. It is both an artistic and spiritual outlet.

My faith is not a smooth and cleanly defined set of theological standards. I was raised in the Roman Catholic tradition. We were told what to believe. We were certainly not encouraged to grow into our faith or continue to learn. What more is there to learn, when the Church has all the answers? I found my spiritual home rather easily in the Episcopal Church.

Much like my experience with pottery, my faith is lumpy and off-center. Sometimes, it even collapses. But when this happens, I pick up the pieces and make sense of what is occurring in the context of my life and relationship with God.

My experience with the creative is very similar. Early on in one of my pottery classes, I was making a gift for a friend. I was struggling trying to make two bowls look alike. One of the women sitting next to me looked over and asked me what was wrong. I explained what I was doing and what I was trying to achieve. She wrinkled her brow at me and said, "Honey, if they want pottery that looks the same they should go to Target!"

There it was. Plain and simple.

Now, I embrace the differences in my pieces. The chalices will not be perfect. They may be slightly off center, or tilted ever so slightly. I hope when people come to the communion rail they notice the imperfections in the chalice and reflect upon their faith. I hope they embrace the cup as they lift it to their lips in the same way that they embrace their faith, accepting their imperfections and being open to an exploring new ideas.