I was attending an old Presbyterian church in a busy southwestern city. I had completed an M.Div. (Master of Divinity) degree years before. That degree grants its recipients entry to the pastorate. I was not yet on that road—rather standing at the fork of two, not knowing which to take. Without a doctorate, an academic career was unlikely. While I was teaching college courses here and there, adjunct status was on the bottom rung. (The last sentence could be put better.) Nevertheless, pastoral ministry was beginning to occupy a fair amount of space in my heart and soul during those eclectic days. I spent a lot of time teaching adult education classes in the church, became a deacon, and sang in the praise team. I found myself interested in dusting off my old books from seminary and revisiting a few old dreams. As I sought advice from local pastors and listened to their stories and observations generally, I drew conclusions, some that surprised me.
As a deacon, I was expected to visit “shut-ins”. I loathed that expression, as it seemed so dehumanizing and condescending toward the people so classified. I recall one conversation in which the associate pastor encouraged me to keep my visits to these people short. One way to ensure that, the young, upwardly mobile minister continued, was never to sit down during the visit, thus avoiding the impression that I would be staying for a while. The rather smug young woman concluded that a 15-to-20 minute visit would be all that was necessary. Again, we deacons were assigned three or four people so that we could establish a rhythm of visitation. One person assigned to me was ten years younger than I was. She had Multiple Sclerosis and had become terminal. The young woman was living in a nursing home. Her daughter and mother visited daily. I will refer to her as Janet. I can still see the bleak room that had become her world. She was in her early thirties, with an eleven-year-old daughter and a mother somewhere in her late sixties. Janet was bed bound and had lost most of her ability to talk. She was a rather pretty woman whose gentle features lit up when visitors came. Again, “Fifteen to twenty minutes” was the suggested time frame. Thankfully, I had the good sense to ignore that monstrous bit of “advice”. I learned a lot from Janet’s unshakable faith and sweet, uncomplaining nature. Here she was, surrounded by people two to three times her age. She had lost the ability to care for herself physically. Yet, when her daughter entered that bland room with its nondescript furnishings and small window that looked out on a parking lot, Janet’s face glowed with pride. She knew she would not see her lovely daughter graduate from the eighth grade, let alone high school or college. What a lesson in love and long-suffering! At any rate, I would chatter on about the classes I taught, or something to do with activities at the church she loved. Janet’s mother and I began a friendship. I recall sharing many cups of coffee with this woman, older than my own mother, who was watching her daughter die.
Why do I share this story now? The fact that I cared, in fact grew to love Janet, hardly makes me a saint. It simply makes me a human being who recognized a person in need of a friend, in need of a pastor, preferably one who was not attached to her watch (cell phones were not in the picture yet).
Who do we, as pastors, think we are? People who will never become vulnerable, or sick, or alone? Why is our time any more valuable than anyone else’s? We talk about church growth while our hearts go into states of atrophy. What are we allowing ourselves to become as we grow increasingly impressed with our own importance?
I am retired now. I am no longer the hip, youngish college instructor; nor am I the pastor of any church. Ten years ago, I met the man I would marry and commit whatever remaining years granted me, to him. We live in Tennessee now, a little unusual as both of us were born in Connecticut and spent our first year and a half of marriage in a bedroom community, conveniently close to New York City, (How relevant is this comment?)
Retirement is not an easy period to navigate. Suddenly, it seems, my doctors and pastors are all younger than I am. So, I have gone from being cool and relevant to benched and on the outskirts of life itself. In fact, my primary care physician reminded me recently of the “Wellness” check-up (euphemism for dementia test), I needed soon as Medicare requires it. As these new realities begin to add up, vulnerability has become something with which I can identify. So, dear Janet and her sad story came to mind.
I titled this chapter, “Under Care” for a reason. It is a phrase that is used to describe the process aspiring soon-to-be-ordained ministers of the Word and Sacrament must undergo as the final step before they become pastors of their own parishes. The process involves periodic meetings with a committee of ministers and elders who have either gone through the same ordeal, or lay leaders who have served on their respective church boards and are thus placed in the position to determine the ministerial future of seminary graduates. I was an older candidate with the added complication of switching to the PCUSA from a different denomination. At any rate, the process included the successful completion of four ordination examinations. I suppose all denominations have their respective vocabulary to describe the ordination process. I remember my reaction to some of the Presby-speak to which I was being subjected. Frankly, some of it amused me. Take the phrase, “under care”. What in the world did that mean? Would the committee of august, at times self-righteous prigs suddenly start paying my bills? After all, I was under their care, wasn’t I? Of course, the phrase means nothing of the kind.
During my years in pastoral ministry, I heard horror stories other pastors had experienced while they were under care. How ironic that such parental language exists in a denomination that often tells its inferiors how to avoid caring for their future parishioners. Again, the fifteen-to-twenty-minute dictum has often come to mind over the years. The people I ministered to, often ministered more to me. What kind of people are in charge these days? Who is discipling whom? One cannot give what one does not have. These are alienating times. (Clarification needed.) People are lonely as a result. Doctors are mandated to spend 20 or so minutes with each of their patients as they are also required to see a certain number during any given day. As a result, what impact does that have on the therapeutic relationship between doctor and patient? Meanwhile, pastors spend very little time with their parishioners, due to similar restrictions and expectations placed on them. Certainly, home visits are not encouraged. I was given this advice more than 30 years ago; I can only imagine what it has morphed into now. I suspect both physicians and pastors are frustrated too.
So, we talk in church circles about discipleship. Yet, we do very little of it. We’re too busy speaking from lofty pulpits about reaching the community at large while the people in our churches are taken for granted. We’ve got them through the doors already, so their needs are rarely addressed. We’re too busy crunching numbers to consider the emotional and spiritual status of the parishioners for which we are currently responsible.
I am not suggesting indifference to the outside world. What I am suggesting however, is that we encourage and nurture our respective members, therefore equipping them for outreach into various communities. Frankly, many of our churches are not doing this—rather, making assumptions about the spiritual development of the people who fill the pews Sunday after Sunday.
During my days in the pastorate, I served churches in southwest Michigan and in one of the boroughs of NYC. A concern that often haunted me was the spiritual development of the members. A tree is only as good as its trunk. Ironically, pastoral training seems to encourage separation between pastor and parish, rather than connection. Certainly, compartmentalization tends to be the result. Let me explain by illustration. (One positive about the aging process is that you have many experiences from which to draw; so, I do now.).
During the summer of 2008, I attended an excellent conference in Houston, Texas.
The person who led it, was a tenured professor from an evangelical college and
seminary. She was extremely articulate, experienced, and well-informed of church dynamics among its clergy and lay leaders. She reminded us of the 19th Century, top
down approach, born out of our country’s Industrial Revolution, to which many churches seem to be attached. I had never thought about ecclesiastical structures that way; I was spellbound by her insights. Many congregations are stuck in the paradigm that she described. We follow the leader who then appoints sub-leaders (usually the associate pastors). She advocated a more lateral approach to leadership, an approach I’ve found most productive as it empowers people, rather than infantilizes them. Because people are so compartmentalized in their respective responsibilities, they miss a lot of the dynamics of the people they are supposed to be serving. Again, I think of the well-meaning, if not somewhat arrogant advice of the associate pastor who had encouraged me to restrain pastoral calls to 15 to 20 minutes. That kind of suggestion is born out of the idea that you have your designated role and another “leader” has his or her designated role. In other words, line upon parallel line is drawn. Little, if any connection is made that way. Parallel lines do not meet, basic geometry.
Granted, this conference occurred in 2008, 14 years ago. However, the above reality has increased rather than decreased over time. In an earlier chapter, I addressed the typical women’s bible study when underused, patronized people are reduced to passive recipients of the speaker. Rather than use the gifts and talents within our churches, we insist on importing the “big name” or A List variety to teach people when there are many talented and competent parishioners who could be doing such teaching. The leadership is too detached to notice.
I write these things to call the church into action. Get to know your people, not through the occasional ice-cream social, or Sunday potluck. As enjoyable as such events can be, they do not familiarize adequately the pastoral staff with the people who come Sunday after Sunday, who sit mute in both the pews during the service and in the classes that either precede or follow the worship service(s). These social events have their place, but they don’t foster the kind of environment that fosters deeper conversations. More one on one encounters arc likely to familiarize clergy and laity with each other as visions are shared in more intimate settings that foster such dialogue in the first place.
Perhaps the pervasive “dumbing down” of American society has contributed to these scenarios. We have become a nation of spectators. I don’t believe for a minute that
Jesus had such a development in mind when he told his disciples to “make disciples” (Matthew 28, et al).
