I preached my first sermon this morning at St. Bart's. I think it went really well, and I got a few compliments on it. I always have a hard time figuring out how to respond to such comments, because I know that anything I manage to say that's any good is definitely the Spirit speaking through me. I guess I could say that, but it gets a little wordy, so I usually just say "Thanks."
After the sermon, I spent some time talking to Aaron and one of the parishoners about the sermon. They gave me some great constructive feedback, as well as some wonderful affirmations. The most interesting part for me was that I got the same feedback from Barb as I did from one of my classmates: I was too animated at the beginning of the sermon, and it seemed fake. I never knew that my go-to nervous reaction is to get more dramatic. Good to know, and I'll definitely keep working on that.
Well, to spare you having to read a long post and watching the sermon, here you go. This is my sermon from today, although it was filmed last week, and I definitely changed a few things in between: Woo!
21.10.12
11.10.12
History
This week at St. Bart's, I got to be the deacon, which means I helped out with a bunch of the service. I did the opening announcements, read the Psalm, prayed several prayers, assisted with Communion, and gave the sending. This is usually something one of the congregation members does, so it was fun to have a chance to fill this role. I'll be preaching in a couple of weeks, so it's also good for me to be up front where people can see me and get to know me before that!
I really appreciated that a member of the congregation does the announcements here. I don't think I've ever seen that done in another church, but I liked it. Rather than putting another task on the pastor's shoulders, this allows more participation by the people of the church. Since I am very much of the mindset that the pastor is NOT the only leader in the church, I like any opportunity to let others lead and participate.
After church this week, one of the members took me through a short history of the congregation. It has been around for almost 100 years, since they bought the church building from an Episcopalian church. I had a really good time learning about where the congregation originated, who has led it, and how they have developed over the last century. Seeing how the pastor did or did not foster growth was interesting, and a good insight into how congregations function. I would have liked to hear more about the role of the council at different moments, but that is a little harder to recreate than the pastoral history.
St. Bart's had four female pastors before Aaron came, so it is no surprise to me that they have been gracious and accepting of me. They have been through something like four maternity leaves, as well, so they are also willing to work with me as I figure out what will happen over the next few months. Aaron had told me a little of this history, but seeing it laid out on Bill's timeline gave me a lot of insight. I would love to spend some time at my first call learning the history of the church up front. I think we tend to believe that a church is not so much its past as its present, but this is obviously not true. The pains and joys of the past, the growths and declines, the good and bad pastors all affect how the congregation functions today, and I need to remember to take note of that.
I really appreciated that a member of the congregation does the announcements here. I don't think I've ever seen that done in another church, but I liked it. Rather than putting another task on the pastor's shoulders, this allows more participation by the people of the church. Since I am very much of the mindset that the pastor is NOT the only leader in the church, I like any opportunity to let others lead and participate.
After church this week, one of the members took me through a short history of the congregation. It has been around for almost 100 years, since they bought the church building from an Episcopalian church. I had a really good time learning about where the congregation originated, who has led it, and how they have developed over the last century. Seeing how the pastor did or did not foster growth was interesting, and a good insight into how congregations function. I would have liked to hear more about the role of the council at different moments, but that is a little harder to recreate than the pastoral history.
St. Bart's had four female pastors before Aaron came, so it is no surprise to me that they have been gracious and accepting of me. They have been through something like four maternity leaves, as well, so they are also willing to work with me as I figure out what will happen over the next few months. Aaron had told me a little of this history, but seeing it laid out on Bill's timeline gave me a lot of insight. I would love to spend some time at my first call learning the history of the church up front. I think we tend to believe that a church is not so much its past as its present, but this is obviously not true. The pains and joys of the past, the growths and declines, the good and bad pastors all affect how the congregation functions today, and I need to remember to take note of that.
14.9.12
The First Weeks
I apologize for writing my first blog about field ed when I'm already three weeks into the process, but this semester is just, well, excuse my French--bat-shit crazy. Between taking five classes at three different schools, two of which are online and one of which is Hebrew, field ed, work, homework, trying to have a life and, oh yeah, getting ready to have a BABY, I feel like I'm going insane. I've been juggling everything pretty well, but I hope no one decides to toss an extra ball at me, because things are going to fall apart if that happens.
Anywho, for those of you who have been impatiently awaiting blogs from me or blogs from Wes and me, you'll just have to learn patience. It is a virtue. And also a fruit of the Spirit. Hopefully we'll get everything sorted out and get into a rhythm again pretty soon. I think that's always the hardest part of the beginning of a new school year or job or whatever--finding your equilibrium. I feel like I'm almost there, but please be patient with us. I'm sure that in 10-14 weeks when baby arrives, everything will be all topsy-turvy again and we'll just adjust like we always do!
Field ed has been going pretty well so far. This year, I am working at St. Bartholomew, which is literally about 10 minutes away from St. Mark, and almost the exact same distance from my house. The greatest part going in was knowing that activities don't start until 9:30 at St. B's, vs. having the first service at 8:15 at St. Mark last year. I definitely miss being there, but I'm having a ton of fun so far.
St. B's is in Trenton, which, as you may know, is the capital of New Jersey. It's an inner-city area, and the church has maybe half of the attendance that St. Mark does. It is also a lot more diverse in terms of race, which is pretty cool for me. There is a Spanish congregation that uses the buildings on Sunday afternoons, and I hope I get to hang out with them at some point, before every last bit of my Spanish knowledge escapes me. Basically, it's a very different place from St. Mark, except for one thing: the people have been really welcoming and wonderful to me. Thank goodness for that.
The pastor I'm working with this year is Aaron, who is entering his fourth year of ministry at St. B's. This is his first call, and also his first career, so it is a new setting for me. He and his wife, Sarah, have an 18-month-old, Charlotte, who is adorable, so that's fun. This year, my plan is to learn some new things, and build on some of my learning from last year. When I preach, I'm going to ask some of the congregation members as well as Aaron to evaluate my sermons so I can get a feel for what people besides the pastor think. I'll still be doing a lot of work with the junior/senior high kids, although I feel much more comfortable after last year. One of my big goals is going to be figuring out how to be a mom and a pastor, something I'll be dealing with for the rest of my life.
I'm very excited for how this year will go, and I'll do my best to write more often from now on. :)
Anywho, for those of you who have been impatiently awaiting blogs from me or blogs from Wes and me, you'll just have to learn patience. It is a virtue. And also a fruit of the Spirit. Hopefully we'll get everything sorted out and get into a rhythm again pretty soon. I think that's always the hardest part of the beginning of a new school year or job or whatever--finding your equilibrium. I feel like I'm almost there, but please be patient with us. I'm sure that in 10-14 weeks when baby arrives, everything will be all topsy-turvy again and we'll just adjust like we always do!
Field ed has been going pretty well so far. This year, I am working at St. Bartholomew, which is literally about 10 minutes away from St. Mark, and almost the exact same distance from my house. The greatest part going in was knowing that activities don't start until 9:30 at St. B's, vs. having the first service at 8:15 at St. Mark last year. I definitely miss being there, but I'm having a ton of fun so far.
St. B's is in Trenton, which, as you may know, is the capital of New Jersey. It's an inner-city area, and the church has maybe half of the attendance that St. Mark does. It is also a lot more diverse in terms of race, which is pretty cool for me. There is a Spanish congregation that uses the buildings on Sunday afternoons, and I hope I get to hang out with them at some point, before every last bit of my Spanish knowledge escapes me. Basically, it's a very different place from St. Mark, except for one thing: the people have been really welcoming and wonderful to me. Thank goodness for that.
The pastor I'm working with this year is Aaron, who is entering his fourth year of ministry at St. B's. This is his first call, and also his first career, so it is a new setting for me. He and his wife, Sarah, have an 18-month-old, Charlotte, who is adorable, so that's fun. This year, my plan is to learn some new things, and build on some of my learning from last year. When I preach, I'm going to ask some of the congregation members as well as Aaron to evaluate my sermons so I can get a feel for what people besides the pastor think. I'll still be doing a lot of work with the junior/senior high kids, although I feel much more comfortable after last year. One of my big goals is going to be figuring out how to be a mom and a pastor, something I'll be dealing with for the rest of my life.
I'm very excited for how this year will go, and I'll do my best to write more often from now on. :)
5.8.12
The Long Road Home
My reflection for CPE this week pretty much sums up how I feel, but I won't repost the whole thing here. Just the final paragraph:
The problem I am facing, however, is that this was never something I wanted to do. Being myself, I have made the most of it and recognized how valuable the CPE expereince is and will continue to be. But, also being myself, I am starting to get much more concerned abotu what the future holds. The day CPE ends, I'm driving out to Ohio for a candidacy retreat. Then school and field ed start, then a trip to Texas, my Endorsement interview, all the planning that goes into the spring, and, most obviously, the baby coming. I am having a harder time focusing on what is happening here as what WILL be happening soon looms closer and closer. I guess my biggest goal for the next two weeks is to ground myself in the moment, and not lose sight of what I am continuing to learn--while somehow still planning for the future.
So there you have a glimpse into my second-to-last-week-of-CPE brain. I really have learned a lot this summer. I started working on my Endorsement essay this weekend and realized that I was very smart to wait until this point to write it. I knew that a big part of Endorsement was the CPE experience, but I don't think I really understood how much I would grow through CPE (literally and figuratively!). Although I am coming out of it with many of the same convictions--like knowing that chaplaincy is not a part of my current call--I am also coming out with a different view of death, a new appreciation for relationships, and a deeper sense of myself.
Yet I'm kind of at a point where I'm ready to move on. I know I could keep learning about group dynamics, chaplaincy, and pastoral care in general for years to come, but that is not what's dominating my brain right now. First, there is this Endorsement essay. This 10-page paper, plus an interview, are the tools I have to explain myself to a bunch of near-strangers, most of whom will not even be at the interview. That's a terrifying experience in itself.
Then there are the thousands of little things I need to take care of before school starts in three weeks: buying books, talking to my professors about how I'll finish this semester, doing pre-reading, figuring out how to see Wes while we're both taking more classes than ever before, working with three different schools to take five classes, wondering how long I'm going to want to drive myself an hour to school four days a week, finding someone who could drive me to the hospital if I go into labor while I'm at school, etc., etc., etc. I'm worrier...and, more importantly, a planner. I've gotten to a point in my life where I can mostly take my worries and convert them into actions. I'm worried that I might go into labor in the middle of class, so what can I do to be proactive about that so I don't worry about it every minute of every class in November? But there is just SO much to consider right now that something has to go, and I'm afraid that that's my concern for CPE. I want to get the most that I can out of the next two weeks, so I guess being aware of this issue is the first step. And the second is not blinking, because I'm pretty sure next Friday will be here before I know it.
The problem I am facing, however, is that this was never something I wanted to do. Being myself, I have made the most of it and recognized how valuable the CPE expereince is and will continue to be. But, also being myself, I am starting to get much more concerned abotu what the future holds. The day CPE ends, I'm driving out to Ohio for a candidacy retreat. Then school and field ed start, then a trip to Texas, my Endorsement interview, all the planning that goes into the spring, and, most obviously, the baby coming. I am having a harder time focusing on what is happening here as what WILL be happening soon looms closer and closer. I guess my biggest goal for the next two weeks is to ground myself in the moment, and not lose sight of what I am continuing to learn--while somehow still planning for the future.
So there you have a glimpse into my second-to-last-week-of-CPE brain. I really have learned a lot this summer. I started working on my Endorsement essay this weekend and realized that I was very smart to wait until this point to write it. I knew that a big part of Endorsement was the CPE experience, but I don't think I really understood how much I would grow through CPE (literally and figuratively!). Although I am coming out of it with many of the same convictions--like knowing that chaplaincy is not a part of my current call--I am also coming out with a different view of death, a new appreciation for relationships, and a deeper sense of myself.
Yet I'm kind of at a point where I'm ready to move on. I know I could keep learning about group dynamics, chaplaincy, and pastoral care in general for years to come, but that is not what's dominating my brain right now. First, there is this Endorsement essay. This 10-page paper, plus an interview, are the tools I have to explain myself to a bunch of near-strangers, most of whom will not even be at the interview. That's a terrifying experience in itself.
Then there are the thousands of little things I need to take care of before school starts in three weeks: buying books, talking to my professors about how I'll finish this semester, doing pre-reading, figuring out how to see Wes while we're both taking more classes than ever before, working with three different schools to take five classes, wondering how long I'm going to want to drive myself an hour to school four days a week, finding someone who could drive me to the hospital if I go into labor while I'm at school, etc., etc., etc. I'm worrier...and, more importantly, a planner. I've gotten to a point in my life where I can mostly take my worries and convert them into actions. I'm worried that I might go into labor in the middle of class, so what can I do to be proactive about that so I don't worry about it every minute of every class in November? But there is just SO much to consider right now that something has to go, and I'm afraid that that's my concern for CPE. I want to get the most that I can out of the next two weeks, so I guess being aware of this issue is the first step. And the second is not blinking, because I'm pretty sure next Friday will be here before I know it.
25.7.12
A Little About Death
In my last blog, I promised to write more about my feelings about death during this CPE experience. And then to drive home the point a little, I attended another death on Saturday morning.
Last week, when I was called in for the family whose father/husband had just died, I had no idea what I was doing. I have not been present after a death at all this summer. Some of my friends who are doing CPE other places probably think I'm crazy, but that is just how the experience has gone here. Our ICU chaplain was present for at least two deaths in her first week, but the rest of us have been lacking in this experience. I was glad that it took six full weeks of CPE before I had to be the chaplain at a death. I think we've talked a lot about the theory of presence, of what can be done, and when it is our job to just BE with the family. All of this is stuff I may have been able to figure out in the moment, but it was nice to have that in my mind when I headed up to the room.
I did a case study on that visit, and I was able to say that I am pretty proud of how I did with the death. I do not think that my pain at seeing others in grief got in the way of their grieving process. I was able to sense changes in the room that helped me determine my next steps. For example, I could tell when the family was ready to receive a bereavement packet, and I even knew who would be the best family member to receive it. I am much less concerned about my ability to deal with death after that experience. I am sure that it contributed to my confidence on this Saturday when I was with another family whose loved one had died.
But what has truly affected me--beyond my surprise at my own ability to be a presence for those in grief--is how we view death. Our society has taken death and set it aside. No longer do most of us see death as a part of life. Rather, it is THE end, the thing we all try to avoid for as long as possible, whether for ourselves or for our loved ones. In fact, during one seminar we attended, we found out that religious people are actually more likely to seek agressive, sometimes futile treatments and life-sustaining treatments than other people. So our faith--faith that leads us to believe that death is absolutely not the end--is leading us to want to prolong life no matter what the physical, emotional, and fiscal cost.
I think this is the culture that I have become accustomed to. I have had very little death in my own life, and I have never seen the "messy" side of death before working here. I have seen nice, cleaned up bodies that look like they're just sleeping. No tubes, no vents, no nothing but a body that appears to still have life in it. Yet my theology demands that I recognize death as more than that. Death is not necessarily easy or clean. Death can be quite messy and scary. But, more importantly, death is not the end. There is something more. I cannot and will not speculate as to what this "something more" might be. Yet I truly believe that it exists, and that death is simply a part of the wider journey of life, not the end of it.
I think I'm getting more comfortable with death as this summer goes on. Death is not any less sad for me than before. Although I have always believed that something comes after our mortal life and death, I also know that this does not make the grieving process any different. It is still difficult to not be with our loved ones. It is still hard for me to think of my grandmother who never got to see me get married, who will never meet her great-grandchildren, whose family misses her dearly. I also know that some deaths are more traumatic and faith-challenging than others. Life is not fair, and neither is death.
Yet I can see that, especially as people get older, perhaps our goal should not always be to prolong life, especially taking into consideration the quality of said life. Medicine and science are amazing. But so is our God. So if we can do such great things here on earth, what more will we be able to do when we are with God? How much better would our lives be if we were able to see death as part of the process, rather than the end? If you don't remember, Jesus talks about this in John 12:24, "I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds." Let us all produce many seeds...throughout this life and the next.
Last week, when I was called in for the family whose father/husband had just died, I had no idea what I was doing. I have not been present after a death at all this summer. Some of my friends who are doing CPE other places probably think I'm crazy, but that is just how the experience has gone here. Our ICU chaplain was present for at least two deaths in her first week, but the rest of us have been lacking in this experience. I was glad that it took six full weeks of CPE before I had to be the chaplain at a death. I think we've talked a lot about the theory of presence, of what can be done, and when it is our job to just BE with the family. All of this is stuff I may have been able to figure out in the moment, but it was nice to have that in my mind when I headed up to the room.
I did a case study on that visit, and I was able to say that I am pretty proud of how I did with the death. I do not think that my pain at seeing others in grief got in the way of their grieving process. I was able to sense changes in the room that helped me determine my next steps. For example, I could tell when the family was ready to receive a bereavement packet, and I even knew who would be the best family member to receive it. I am much less concerned about my ability to deal with death after that experience. I am sure that it contributed to my confidence on this Saturday when I was with another family whose loved one had died.
But what has truly affected me--beyond my surprise at my own ability to be a presence for those in grief--is how we view death. Our society has taken death and set it aside. No longer do most of us see death as a part of life. Rather, it is THE end, the thing we all try to avoid for as long as possible, whether for ourselves or for our loved ones. In fact, during one seminar we attended, we found out that religious people are actually more likely to seek agressive, sometimes futile treatments and life-sustaining treatments than other people. So our faith--faith that leads us to believe that death is absolutely not the end--is leading us to want to prolong life no matter what the physical, emotional, and fiscal cost.
I think this is the culture that I have become accustomed to. I have had very little death in my own life, and I have never seen the "messy" side of death before working here. I have seen nice, cleaned up bodies that look like they're just sleeping. No tubes, no vents, no nothing but a body that appears to still have life in it. Yet my theology demands that I recognize death as more than that. Death is not necessarily easy or clean. Death can be quite messy and scary. But, more importantly, death is not the end. There is something more. I cannot and will not speculate as to what this "something more" might be. Yet I truly believe that it exists, and that death is simply a part of the wider journey of life, not the end of it.
I think I'm getting more comfortable with death as this summer goes on. Death is not any less sad for me than before. Although I have always believed that something comes after our mortal life and death, I also know that this does not make the grieving process any different. It is still difficult to not be with our loved ones. It is still hard for me to think of my grandmother who never got to see me get married, who will never meet her great-grandchildren, whose family misses her dearly. I also know that some deaths are more traumatic and faith-challenging than others. Life is not fair, and neither is death.
Yet I can see that, especially as people get older, perhaps our goal should not always be to prolong life, especially taking into consideration the quality of said life. Medicine and science are amazing. But so is our God. So if we can do such great things here on earth, what more will we be able to do when we are with God? How much better would our lives be if we were able to see death as part of the process, rather than the end? If you don't remember, Jesus talks about this in John 12:24, "I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds." Let us all produce many seeds...throughout this life and the next.
21.7.12
A big week
I've been pretty remiss about writing my blog during CPE. Most of this is due to my lack of interest in thinking about the hospital when I'm not there. My experience has not been terrible, but that does not mean that I want to go home and write more about what I have been doing.
So, at this point, I have dealt quite a few new experiences. During July, we have really settled into a “normal” routine, and I pretty much know what to expect on any given week. I will have some patients who are appreciative of my visit but don’t want to talk or don’t want any help. I will have some patients who say they need nothing and then talk to me for half an hour. And I will have patients who break down or even call for a chaplain to visit. I don’t have many codes or alerts in my area, so that makes everything fairly routine.
Last Friday, I was on call and I got called into the hospital during the night for the first time—and then the second. The first was a sad case that is still working itself out here in the ICU. We’ll see what happens with that. The second was early on Saturday morning, when a patient died as his body just finally shut down from Parkinson’s. I spent about three hours with the family. I think I did a pretty good job of being a presence with them, and I was able to help them on a number of issues. This was my first experience with death in the hospital, and I was surprised by how well I handled it. Although tears for the family came to my eyes at several points during the meeting, I was able to be “helpful,” if that’s even the right word.
Between my on call shift last night and my 12-hour duty at the hospital today, I have been “in charge” of the pastoral care department for 24 straight hours. Last night proved fairly uneventful, and I got a lot more rest than I did last Friday. Today, however, has been one thing after another. I attended my first alert for a heart attack, and I was just amazed by how much pain someone can be in with no outward signs. I saw two stroke alerts, and what that can do to a family.
And I saw my second death in the hospital. I arrived to be with the family during a 20-minute attempt to resuscitate the patient, which was terrifying in a lot of ways. I could see the heart monitor the whole time (we were waiting a little way from the room, but I could see the main desk’s monitor), and it registered “0” beats per minute for most of that time. I felt like I knew where the situation was going, and maybe the family did too, but I could not tell them that and it was painful. They were actually pretty calm upon hearing the news, although they were obviously in grief. I think one of the things that has struck me most during my time here is people’s attitudes toward death. I will make sure to write more soon on that topic. Until then, we’ll pray that the hospital remains peaceful!
So, at this point, I have dealt quite a few new experiences. During July, we have really settled into a “normal” routine, and I pretty much know what to expect on any given week. I will have some patients who are appreciative of my visit but don’t want to talk or don’t want any help. I will have some patients who say they need nothing and then talk to me for half an hour. And I will have patients who break down or even call for a chaplain to visit. I don’t have many codes or alerts in my area, so that makes everything fairly routine.
Last Friday, I was on call and I got called into the hospital during the night for the first time—and then the second. The first was a sad case that is still working itself out here in the ICU. We’ll see what happens with that. The second was early on Saturday morning, when a patient died as his body just finally shut down from Parkinson’s. I spent about three hours with the family. I think I did a pretty good job of being a presence with them, and I was able to help them on a number of issues. This was my first experience with death in the hospital, and I was surprised by how well I handled it. Although tears for the family came to my eyes at several points during the meeting, I was able to be “helpful,” if that’s even the right word.
Between my on call shift last night and my 12-hour duty at the hospital today, I have been “in charge” of the pastoral care department for 24 straight hours. Last night proved fairly uneventful, and I got a lot more rest than I did last Friday. Today, however, has been one thing after another. I attended my first alert for a heart attack, and I was just amazed by how much pain someone can be in with no outward signs. I saw two stroke alerts, and what that can do to a family.
And I saw my second death in the hospital. I arrived to be with the family during a 20-minute attempt to resuscitate the patient, which was terrifying in a lot of ways. I could see the heart monitor the whole time (we were waiting a little way from the room, but I could see the main desk’s monitor), and it registered “0” beats per minute for most of that time. I felt like I knew where the situation was going, and maybe the family did too, but I could not tell them that and it was painful. They were actually pretty calm upon hearing the news, although they were obviously in grief. I think one of the things that has struck me most during my time here is people’s attitudes toward death. I will make sure to write more soon on that topic. Until then, we’ll pray that the hospital remains peaceful!
30.6.12
Shepherds
One of the many metaphors we use for Jesus is "shepherd." In fact, this is one of the "I am" statements from the Gospel of John: "I am the good shepherd." Unless I'm mistaken, we read this passage every year of the lectionary, hearing again how Jesus is a shepherd to us. Psalm 23 was paired with it this year: "The Lord is my shepherd." It is clear to us that Jesus is the shepherd, even if we are not sure what a shepherd is or what his job really entails.
A fellow CPE chaplain and I were talking yesterday. In Spanish (and, I suspect, several other languages), the word for "pastor" and "shepherd" is the same. So, when I introduced myself to a Spanish-speaking patient the other day, I asid, "Soy una pastora del hospital." In context, I know she understood that I am not, in fact, leading sheep around the hospital. Yet the meanings are intricately linked, something we have lost by having two separate words.
What does it mean to be a shepherd for those to whom we minister?
In my supervision with Ted today, we talked a lot about the amount of work pastors are expected to do, coupled with the amount of advocacy and other voluntary activities that pastors do willingly. There simply is not enough time to do everything. There is no way I can write sermons, visit parishoners, teach classes, lead worship, etc., etc., etc., as well as advocate for environmental issues, humanitarian rights, orphans, starving children in Africa, peace, and the many, many other things that I think God is calling us to do. Not to mention taking care of my house and family, reading a book for fun, and sleeping. I just don't have enough hours in my day--even now.
This led to a discussion about how best to be an advocate for those who are advocating, which led me right back to the discussion with Sarang about shepherding. Although I am certainly no expert on being a shepherd in the strictest sense of the word, I do know a few things. Shepherds don't lead each individual sheep to the water, then help them drink. They don't bring each sheep to green grass, plucking it and hand-feeding them. They don't even worry about sheep who are a little farther away from the herd.
Rather, their job is to bring the sheep to places where they can find the good water, the delicious grass, and the shade tree. They keep an eye on all the sheep at once, but are also able to focus on an individual when she is in need. When one gets lost and needs personal attention, the shepherd will even leave the rest of the herd to find him, trusting that they will be okay on their own. Perhaps I should work to embody this role a little better. I want to recognize my congregants as individuals who have each been blessed with many gifts, but also have several weaknesses to overcome. If their strength is advocating for something I also believe in, perhaps my role is to support them in their advocacy, not necessarily attending meetings and events myself, but encouraging them in their justice-making. If I know of something or someone who can help, perhaps I can lead those people to each other, and then let them figure out the next steps. I can't do everything I want to do. But I can help others achieve whatever is most important to them through my encouragement, support, prayer, and help.
A fellow CPE chaplain and I were talking yesterday. In Spanish (and, I suspect, several other languages), the word for "pastor" and "shepherd" is the same. So, when I introduced myself to a Spanish-speaking patient the other day, I asid, "Soy una pastora del hospital." In context, I know she understood that I am not, in fact, leading sheep around the hospital. Yet the meanings are intricately linked, something we have lost by having two separate words.
What does it mean to be a shepherd for those to whom we minister?
In my supervision with Ted today, we talked a lot about the amount of work pastors are expected to do, coupled with the amount of advocacy and other voluntary activities that pastors do willingly. There simply is not enough time to do everything. There is no way I can write sermons, visit parishoners, teach classes, lead worship, etc., etc., etc., as well as advocate for environmental issues, humanitarian rights, orphans, starving children in Africa, peace, and the many, many other things that I think God is calling us to do. Not to mention taking care of my house and family, reading a book for fun, and sleeping. I just don't have enough hours in my day--even now.
This led to a discussion about how best to be an advocate for those who are advocating, which led me right back to the discussion with Sarang about shepherding. Although I am certainly no expert on being a shepherd in the strictest sense of the word, I do know a few things. Shepherds don't lead each individual sheep to the water, then help them drink. They don't bring each sheep to green grass, plucking it and hand-feeding them. They don't even worry about sheep who are a little farther away from the herd.
Rather, their job is to bring the sheep to places where they can find the good water, the delicious grass, and the shade tree. They keep an eye on all the sheep at once, but are also able to focus on an individual when she is in need. When one gets lost and needs personal attention, the shepherd will even leave the rest of the herd to find him, trusting that they will be okay on their own. Perhaps I should work to embody this role a little better. I want to recognize my congregants as individuals who have each been blessed with many gifts, but also have several weaknesses to overcome. If their strength is advocating for something I also believe in, perhaps my role is to support them in their advocacy, not necessarily attending meetings and events myself, but encouraging them in their justice-making. If I know of something or someone who can help, perhaps I can lead those people to each other, and then let them figure out the next steps. I can't do everything I want to do. But I can help others achieve whatever is most important to them through my encouragement, support, prayer, and help.
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