Who are your informal theologians?
Gazing into my grandmother’s eyes around the age of 5. I called her “the wise old owl.” She pursed her lips and giggled at the description. No one was smarter than her in my book. She had so much to teach. Sometimes she used words.
Reflection
Recently, I attended a workshop “Abuelita Faith” at Retreat House. Our pastoral intern Sandy Centeno asked the question: Who are your informal theologians?
Immediately, I went to my grandparents. They each attended various denominations within the Christian tradition. My dad’s parents were simple, no-nonsense yet carried a vastness within them capable of holding all of life’s ups and downs - similar to the flatlands of West Texas where they were born, raised and lived throughout their lifetimes. My grandmother was a nurse. She kept penicillin in her fridge and would generously administer to whomever needed to “feel better quick.” She worked for a hard-nosed and occasionally mean-spirited pediatrician for years. Later, others would say: “Your grandmother was Nurse Jackie? I loved her.” She grew up picking cotton and attended the Baptist church.
My Pa Pa didn’t say much. At his funeral, young, old, brown and white people approached his grandkids telling us “Your grandfather saved my life.” He never spoke of this work. At least not to us. He was in AA for 55 years and sponsored more people than I know companioning each to a freer life. Now, I understand who those people were that would sit with him at at the kitchen table and play cards or sip coca cola.
Nanie and Papa raised their children in the Methodist Church.
Mom’s parents were born, raised and lived much of their lives in Houston. My grandfather married my grandmother not despite that fact that she had a two-year old daughter but because she did. He said her having a daughter made him love her more. She was widowed while my oldest aunt was still in utero. Her first husband died in a plane crash in World War II. This set of grandparents were married for 60 plus years. He a Catholic, and she a methodist. Neither one of them ever converted to the other’s tradition. He attended mass on Saturday evening and attended Methodist church with her on Sunday’s. She would go to mass sometimes, too. He even served on the Methodist Church board.
I wonder. These various faith backgrounds - from both sets of grandparents. Could they potentially inform the comfort I now experience in various denominations or the way I feel free to offer hospitality through using various faith language when I companion my spiritual directees?
Neither sets of grandparents had it easy. But they never discussed this. I can see now how it might have been easy to close down their spirits, to blame God, to turn bitter. I wonder now what practices they had in place to keep this from happening. Perhaps growing up during the Great Depression was practice enough to see things later in life as “glass half-full.” I wish I could ask them. Somehow, they managed to live out their faith by loving one another, loving their families and loving others - through hospitality. Their homes were open, stories were told, prayers were said and they gave people the benefit of the doubt. I now realize this was a gift.
My informal theologians are Myra, Keenan, Jackie and Joe. I miss them often but hope each time I choose to tell a story, listen to a stranger, cook a meal, say a prayer for someone in need, keep going when life gets hard, trust God has a plan and lead with curiosity instead of judgement I am continuing the legacy that they created. Amen!
Writing prompt
Who are your informal theologians? Who leads you to the heart of God? Who uses actions instead of words, though words might be present, too. How do they make you feel? What do/did they teach you? How do they encourage you/inspire you? Perhaps a pet, a grandchild, a neighbor, your mailman or woman? Allow the Spirit to open up your heart.