Rev. Vanessa Titang

  • Asking (a Prayer)

    I am here and humbled
    By my small body,
    By my tiny imprint on the fingerprint of the divine plan,
    I am hard of bringing myself to bent knees,
    To folded hands,
    To ask,
    For anything,
    For who am I to ask?
    Who am I to expect?

    then I am reminded,
    I am
    inherently worthy,

    Worthy
    As any other being,
    And I am part of this web,
    Interconnected by nature,
    And my part is too important,
    In ways I’ll may never know,
    May never understand

    And so,
    Humble, worthy, interconnected
    I fall to knees with fingers clasped:

    Dear spirit,  great being of existence,
    That in, of, around and composing us,
    I ask for your help,
    Influence in my favor,
    To make and show me
    the best path forth,

    I ask you to make it be,
    That which includes the greatest good
    Even that I might not understand
    Now
    The greatest good
    For me and family
    That our place in this web be filled with peace
    And the good of your divine presence,
    So humbly for this I pray.
    Amen.

  • “Who Ministers to the Minister?”

    In the busyness of life in the past few months I have let this blog take a backseat to ministry, and life in general. On May 23rd I led my last service for the 2020-21 academic year, at the
    congregation in Castine. I will return in the fall, to intern at the 3 church collaborative.

    This last service was put together in a mad dash of things happening, and yet I feel it is one of my favorites. It was created for the May theme of “story”. The sermon was entitled “Tell Your Story”, and implored listeners to take an active role in storytelling, for fear the loss of histories over time. I was very satisfied with the service, was complemented and could see the evidence of my growth.

    I am embarking now in taking CPE (clinical Pastoral education) for c the summer. My original program was canceled due to low enrollment, so I’m not doing an online based program that I was fortunate to have one of my fellow seminarians recommend. Alas, I still need to figure out where I’m going to get my pastoral hours. I’m working with the Castine church, but am also looking in to local hospices and nursing homes.

    In regard to Castine, I was recently confronted with a huge moment in the lives of our congregants. One of the young church leaders suddenly took I’ll and was put on life support. Her slow passing is a huge pill to swallow. I was tasked with seeing to the family the evening she took ill, as the minister was out of state. There was little I could do, and due to Covid restrictions I was unable to be the re for them. I cried in the car after I dressed in my clergy attire waiting on what to do. My supervising minister had advised me when we spoke, “steely yourself”. I’m good at shutting off my emotions when confronted by extreme tragedy, but it is still necessary to release. I did that in the car, then did as she had advised.

    I begin CPE class this evening. While I’m not anxious to start another class, I’m in need of processes everything occurring. I’m grateful for the surrounding of my cohort that I have reviewed to help me figure out what my role is and to be held as well.

  • Surfacing

    I am coming up for air.

    This has been a year unlike I have ever known. With the pandemic, one tumultuous event after another,  and then I’m going to school for ministry.  In truth ministry is where I surface, and gasp– gulping in a deep breath. My figurative lungs expand and I realize I am tired.  I am a mere mortal and it is in these brief moments that I breathe,  that I let my body relax into the protective feeling that is exhaustion. 

    I am by nature an overachiever, but this is no longer a quest for an A+ grade.  I’m coming to terms with that.  This is about being; being a minister and being at my core human. In being a burgeoning minister I am working on cultivating a non-anxious presence. 

    A non-anxious presence–It sounds beautiful,  almost poetic to have such resolve.  But it is not easy. I am trying though.  I must confess I cry (though seldom),  but when alone,  and have the room I have let go. I let the weight sink in,  and release it in liquid form–I cry,  and then I am washed anew.  My spirit is renewed,  and I recall why I am in this position.

    The heady content of my coursework–history of global Christianity,  community organizing, naturism,  and vocational studies is a puzzle scrambling to be pieced together in my mind. These are the tools for building my ministerial knowledge,  but this rough and tumble of life is where I’m building my grit.  Right now is one of my down moments,  but I’m in the process of picking myself up.

    I stand, take a breath,  and look back from whence I came.  I am amazed by the hazardous terrain I have already passed. This is passing through to become.

  • A Chill

    I am beginning a book group tomorrow at the church I am serving as an intern; Via zoom of course. I have never led a book group before, nor been a part of a book group. I am not quite sure what is expected of the group leader.
    The book we are reading is Wintering, by Katherine May. It is about difficult life experiences and going through this time of winter. Jessica, the person I am leading the group with, and I felt it was ideal considering what we are all going through with the pandemic. We are at the vaccination stage (for some), but we’re all still holed in, isolating, waiting for the all clear. It is a mass time of wintering. And we have been doing this for about a year now. What can I say to lead a group, at this time that has not been said before?

    And then the collision happened. Today. My partner was in an automobile accident on the way to work. A severe accident. I am now sitting with a cup of coffee at Eastern Maine Medical Center waiting for the completion of his surgery.
    This is our winter. We have been going through it for some time. Through sudden death, cancer, surgery, and now trauma. And I realize something about what I’ve been doing wrong in my ministry—despite ministry, life still happens, to me. I am not immune from the vertigo of life. I’m in it, like everyone else. So while I can offer prophetic reflections as I go, I ought not expect to deflect difficulty.
    Perhaps I am understanding the point of the Wintering book better now– embrace the winter, live through the winter, wear your warmest threads, just expect to get quite a chill.

  • A Prayer for the Ordinary

    A Prayer for the Ordinary

    In this great heavy time,
    We have faced trials only our ancestors long passed could know,
    We have had great worry laid upon our chests,
    with the turning of the clock,
    Forward
    Into another year,
    Let us find peace,
    And make peace with the days that have passed,
    Let our expectations be as much as we can bear,
    And yet our hope for the future ever growing,
    In this year,
    Let us see life with eyes brand new,
    With an appreciation from the trials faced,
    Of the new day, of a baby’s breath, of the privilege of monotony
    Let us celebrate spirit when the ordinary occurs,
    For oh do we know
    The grief of lost normalcy,
    Let us be joyous
    For it is a new day,
    Joyous,
    For this now is our time,

    Spirit as we awaken
    To the renewed beauty and gift that is life,
    May we find comfort and protection,
    From the world’s great unknowns,
    And knowledge that in our struggles
    We are not alone.

  • Morning Prayer

    Morning;
    I am yet to greet the dawn,
    With eyes wide open,
    I am new,
    Awaiting lightbeams of the day,
    Preparing me for what may come,


    Spirit of life,
    For strength,
    Patience,
    Perseeverrnce,
    Humility,
    Of these things I pray,
    Blessed be.

  • Altar Space

    This is my home altar space. It has slowly developed over a time, of collecting what I initially saw as small trinkets. Really I was building a small temple for my spirituality.

    I don’t fit neatly in anyway in a “what are you?” box. This altar could look like that of many different faiths, which is truly what I channel. But in the end it makes sense as a Unitarian Universalist. I am content in this spirituality, which I long searched to understand and find.

    Though it is modest, and a tad busy (with limited space), I invite you in to the outer workings of my eclectic spirituality.

    Welcome!

  • The “Bad” Year

    The New Year is coming, its right around the bend. I am acutely aware of its presence as I have a service scheduled 12/27 for me to lead at Unitarian Universalist Church of Castine, with of course the theme being New Year. Well, the theme I have selected is “Letting go”, but really its related to the new year.

    This year—2020, has been a lot to take. It has been a rollercoaster of emotion as we have had our lives upended with Coronavirus, and normalcy left far behind, somewhere in March or April. I want to talk about the fact that this year has been a trauma that we need to come to terms with, we need to let go of any feelings we have about the year, and just see it be as something that has come and gone, because that is what life does. We have long been talking about what a horrible year 2020 has been, and yes it has been traumatic, but labeling it as “bad” makes it seem as if when the ball drops on 2021, everything is going to be resolved, and whatever hurts we had in the previous year are going to be healed. They, unfortunately, are not going to be. We must still come through whatever feelings we have about what has happened so far and find peace with it.

    I found several quotes that jumped out at me about letting go—why we do not do it, and why we need to. But the one that really got me, that I do not think will fit into my sermon as I have been piecing it together is this:

    “No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories.”―Haruki Murakami

    I do not know the author, and I do not know the context, but I feel like the message it gets across is sharp. It is hard to let go of the memories of things that hurt, that tried you, that scarred you. And we keep this baggage close, and memorialize it, not recognizing how much harm it may still be inflicting by us doing this. I wonder how much of this year we will do this about. 2020 will become a memorialized year of the great pandemic, and it will solidify in our memories as a worst time, that we cannot bare to repeat again…

    But what if we let go of the value judgment on the year and just recognize how we have grown around the obstacles it posed. Further, doing this may help us brace for the reality that there is no clean, clear end to what we like to think of as “2020”. Facing the realities of time, and current predicaments letting go of attachment to 2020, and judgment of it, allows us to heal hurt around the memories therein this time.

    I lost 2 beloved individuals in 2020. One, a friend, died causally related to the coronavirus; the other, my grandmother, passed in a predicament of ordinary surgery gone wrong. My natural inclination is to curse this year, and want nothing more than it to change, so that the trauma will be left behind in another year, and so that a new day will bring about something new, something radiant, something to resolve these pains. But nothing in 2021 will bring back either my friend or my grandmother, I know this, nor will it necessarily make the pain of their loss any better. I know this deep down, but something in me still just wants that celebration of a new year, a new beginning; particularly to what we all hope is the end to Coronavirus.

    It is December, and a vaccine has begun overseas, and not yet here in the US, but it exists. And how effective it is, and how bad the side effects are is yet to be seen.

    But it exists.

    There is hope. Really, there always has been hope. Yes, there is hope within 2020.

    Trying not to see the year as bad has made me recognize how much of what I am viewing as bad/good is just an illusion of human definition. It makes me be realistic of my expectations for a new year, and it makes me have hope that things can change (at any time). I will try not to call 2020 a bad year. To do so only gives it more power and makes it more painful. Maybe I should see it as the difficult time, or a trying time. Or perhaps, “it was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” just like it always is.

    I will let go of 2020, in my encapsulation of 365 days as a bad period of my life. For regardless of how difficult it has been, or how painful, it still is 365 days of my life; 365 days that I do not get to repeat. I can reflect on it, I can experience fear, pain, sadness, joy, happiness, et cetera about it, but it is still a piece of my life. This is what the quote I singled out picks up on — no matter the suffering it is a part of our lives, it is a part of us. We do not get to recreate this time. But, I feel we can hold these memories, but not hold attachments to them that will only scar us more. Thus I will try to remember this time, that we call 2020, I will know the challenges faced, but I will let 2020 go. I will pray for easier tides as we go forward into the future, but I will be aware, from the lessons this time has taught me, and that this time has taught us all.

  • Deconstructing Happy Holidays

    As the winter holidays arrive this season, it is fitting that my task as of right now for my Constructive Theology class is to discern my personal theology. I have often struggled with articulating my faith, which is not exactly what I was raised as, (loosely Lutheran). Coming into the holiday season, as Happy Holidays prevail, I wonder, what exactly I am personally subscribing to when I receive such a greeting?  

    Yes, I am Unitarian Universalist, but what do I believe? In contemplating this, I learned the following of myself: I believe in the 7 (and 8th) principles set forth in Unitarian Universalism, but even before that, I believe in an entity that is greater than I, greater than the universe, greater than anything that can be imagined. But I believe that we, as beings, as creations of existence are a part of this entity. Some might be settled to just say “God,” but I am a philosopher at heart and delve deep into what exactly is meant by such a term. To me God, Spirit, is greater than we can completely comprehend, with names being inadequate for this entity. But it is not without merit to attempt to grasp at this greatness, in reverence of its entirety.  

    Perhaps this is why so many different faiths have different means of understanding this entity—be it God, Goddess, a combination of deities, or otherwise. Contemplating different faiths, I can see the merits in many, and yet have struggled to find which is mine. From this search I have come to find that my faith is eclectic. When one wishes me ‘Happy Holidays” I think of a flame that withstands the dark nights longer than possible, I think of a newborn babe that brings hope to the world for holiness, I think of the divinity of a goddess spirit that births the sun into being, I think of people reunited after centuries torn asunder from homeland and each other.  

    My belief in a panentheistic entity that is and creates and holds the entirety in its being has room for all of these faith traditions. I may not attend each of the separate houses of worship that these faiths deem holy, but I have reverence for them. In this way, I can appreciate the holiday greetings specific to the individual holidays that pass through these months, as well as the all-encompassing “Happy Holidays.” At this time, even in our separate quarters may we see ourselves and feel the holiness of spirit in the warm-hearted greetings of many faiths that still surround us, 

    Happy Hanukkah, 

    Merry Solstice,  

    Blessed Yule, 

    Happy Kwanzaa, 

    Merry Christmas, 

    Happy New Year, 

    Happy Holidays! 

  • Pack Animals

    It is mid-November, and we have been stuck in the “Twilight Zone” that is life amidst the coronavirus for approximately 9 months now. Nine months has brought us to the start of the winter holiday season, and the Thanksgiving seasons here in the United States. In summary these are the months that we are supposed to huddle close together with family and friends to make it through the cold of winter months. And yet, we are unable to do this. For fear of the virus, for ourselves, for others, we keep distanced at a minimum of 6 feet.  

    We quarantine in homes; we keep outside travel to a minimum. We cancel our winter plans to travel across state lines to be nearer to distance family and friends. Here in the hour that we most need each other we are amid an uptick in the virus. Why, is irrelevant, but the fact that it is here and very real is known to all who have had to suspend life, to be well protected. 

    And when we can visit on another, it is short lived, and feels like it is not enough. The short visits, that are masked and distant, that are made with overprotective arrangements are a sharp reminder of what we are missing in our daily lives with this virus at hand. Holding on to hope was something that we started this with, now it seems silly to talk of hope, when that is all we are trying to do, hope that things will clear up, some time, someday, some way.  

    As winter months set in, homes are lonely, holiday presents are passed through the mail only, and not hand to hand. We are feeling now through the loss, the immense need of our human nature for community. So, we will make community, where we can, via video messenger, but it still is missing what we need—a handshake, a fist bump, a hug.  

    I wonder if this is what our ancestors felt when loved ones had to go on long epic trips overseas, into unknown lands, to find a way forward for their people. No, it is not the same, but I can see how the feeling of loneliness, fear, frustration, may be shared with these experiences. In a technological age, that has political strife and division, we are being reminded to come closer in other ways, through our human nature, as pack animals.