Christian Community
Hope
Presbytery Pastoral Care
Network National Gathering
October
20-23, 2003
Rev. Deborah McKinley
Ephesians 4:1-6
Father
and son had gone off on a hiking trip. They
bounced along the rutted road, the dad trying to break his son=s sullen silence following a quarrel:
ASo what
are my hang-ups? How do I ruin
everything?
AYou don=t want to know.@
AI want
to know...@
AYou
wouldn=t understand.@
ATry me.@
The
son cut a look at his dad, shrugged, then stared back through the
windshield. AYou=re just so out of touch.@
AWith
what?@
AWith my
whole world. You hate everything that=s fun. You
hate television and movies and video games.
You hate my music.@
AI like
some of your music. I just don=t like it loud.@
AYou hate
advertising,@ he said quickly, rolling now. AYou hate
billboards and lotteries and developers and logging companies and big
corporations. You hate snowmobiles and
jet skis. You hate malls and fashions
and cars.@
AYou=re still on my case because I won=t buy a Jeep?@ dad
replied, harking back to an old argument.
AForget
Jeeps. You look at any car and all you
think is pollution, traffic, roadside crap.
You say fast-food=s poisoning our bodies and T.V.=s poisoning our minds. You think the Internet is just another scam for selling
stuff. You think business is a
conspiracy to rape the earth.@
ANone of
that bothers you?@
AOf
course it does. But that=s the world.
That=s where we=ve got
to live. It=s not going to go away just because you don=t approve.
What=s the good of spitting on it?@
AI don=t spit on it.
I grieve over it.@
The
son was still for a moment, then resumed quietly. AWhat=s the good of grieving if you can=t change anything?@
AWho says
you can=t change anything?@
AYou
do. Maybe not with your mouth, but with
your eyes.... Your view of things is
totally dark. It bums me out. You make me feel the planet=s dying and people are to blame and nothing can be
done about it. There=s no room for hope.
Maybe you can get by without hope, but I can=t. I=ve got a lot of living still to do. I have to believe there=s a way we can get out of this mess. Otherwise,
what=s the point?
Why study? Why work - why do
anything if it=s all going to hell?@[1]
Sharon
Parks relates that story in her book, Big Questions, Worthy Dreams. She then comments, AWhat this son is aching for is a context of rapport,
some form of community that can share his despair and at the same time buoy his
hope. This motion at the heart of life
is the essence of hope and can carry us toward a more adequate truth if it is
sustained in a network of belonging that can face wonder, uncertainty, anxiety,
and grief in the bonds of a shared promise of life.[2]
A network
of belonging that can face wonder, uncertainty, anxiety, grief - within the
bonds of a shared promise of life - sharing despair, buoying in hope. Do you suppose presbyteries could become
such communities? Do you suppose your
presbytery could become such a network of belonging?
Our
unity, what holds us together - what draws us together - is Jesus Christ. He is our shared promise of life. He is the foundation, the basis, the context
of life togther in each presbytery.
Presbyteries
are a communities of hope. Because
Jesus Christ points us forward. Hope
draws up the past, embraces the present and always looks forward - moves
forward - prods and pushes and pulls us forward. It is only within this context of hope that, together, you and I
can face the wonder, the uncertainty, the anxiety, the grief - and buoy one
another as we do.
Elaine
Pagels begins her book, ABeyond Belief@ with
the story of learning that her two year old son had a terminal disease. She went running on Sunday morning, the day
following the diagnosis and found herself, in her running clothes, wandering
into the Church of the Heavenly Rest in New York City. She was not a church-going woman. Here=s what
she says of that experience, AHere was a place to weep without imposing tears upon a
child; and here was a heterogeneous community that had gathered to sing, to
celebrate, to acknowledge common needs, and to deal with what we cannot control
or imagine. Yet the celebration in
progress spoke of hope; perhaps that is what made the presence of death
bearable.@[3] She
continues: AThe drama being played out there >spoke to my condition,= as it
has to that of millions of people throughout the ages, because it
simultaneously acknowledges the reality of fear, grief, and death while - paradoxically
- nurturing hope.@[4]
This
community of hope is a network of belonging.
We are not out there, alone. And
you and I can let others in on this secret - they=re not
out there alone, either. There is a host of men and women who stand with us, who
stand with them - as we face the wonder of life. The pastoral office affords quite a privilege of intimate
pastoral care - the birth of babies and the death of a wife or husband. Those are moments of wonder.
Without
this network of belonging - this community of hope, I daresay that you and I
and the people we serve would not be able to face those moments with hearts
open to the wonder of God=s presence.
Without this community of hope, you and I might be tempted to pass right
by those moments and rush on to the next thing.
This
network of belonging buoys you and me - and the pastors we serve - buoys them
up as they face uncertainty and anxiety.
Perhaps they are asking the questions: ACan I
maintain this pace of life?@ AAm I really still called to ministry?@ ADoes my preaching and praying and teaching have any
affect on the people I serve?@ AWill my marriage withstand the pressures of ministry?@ And there is
the macro uncertainty - the murkiness of this emerging church in the
post-modern era. Could the pastors we
serve face any of that uncertainty or anxiety on their own? Could you and I face any of that uncertainty
on our own? I think not.
A
community of hope is necessary as you and I face the grief we encounter every
day. In your capacities you may not
preside at many funerals. Still, you
witness the grief that your pastors bear - and you stand with them. We watch as the funerals they preside at
take their toll. We listen as many of
them grieve the loss of the church they knew so well. Some of them grieve over a culture gone awry, with powerful
forces to suck the faithful into its powerful grip. Some of them, very simply, grieve getting older.
Christian
community is held together in Jesus Christ - and we necessarily then, hold on
to one another. Because Jesus Christ is
our shared promise of life, you and I - and the pastors we serve can remain
resilient in the face of all of this.
Which
means we need not fear it or run from it or hide it. We can be open to it all - and to each other about the wonders of
ministry, the uncertainties we face, the anxieties we harbor, the grief we
bear. You and I are called to help
these pastors out of their cocoons with their exterior posturing and their
sappy smiles. Ministry is not all
smiles and you and I can develop and participate in a network of belonging - a
community of hope as we live authentically with one another. Part of your unique role, I think, is
helping pastors live authentically not just with the communities they serve,
but with one another - helping them become a network of belonging to each other
because we all belong to Jesus Christ - helping them become a community of
hope.
If our presbyteries are not communities of hope - then there is no where for us to go. We=re stuck. And nothing can change. The good news is - because we belong to Jesus Christ, we already are a network of belonging, a community of hope. That hope pushes and prods and pulls us forward - to new horizons of insight, knowledge, understanding and, most importantly, new horizons of faith. Can you and I help our people live into such a community?