Searching for God # 121 (Part B)

 There are many times when, after scribbling notes in this space, I have a nagging and irrepressible sense that many aspects of the subject/issue are still dangling, left to be ignored, denied, misapprehended and even abused, even by this scribe. 

The loneliness that people ‘feel’ or ‘experience’ or complain of within church groups may be a projection of their/our own sense of alienation that we expect to be somehow resolved or at least mitigated in a supposedly ‘friendly’ place. The church has positioned itself, and the culture has reinforced the multiple stereotypes including: ‘an emotional haven or retreat,’ ‘a place where ritual and music (often familiar) is performed,’ a place of quiet reflection,’ ‘a place where traditional families of the community met weekly restoring and reinforcing the memories, connections and expectations of the local ethos,’ or perhaps a ‘place for families to gather as part of healthy and mature parenting of young children.’ 

Rarely, if ever, do we/they articulate whatever cluster of expectations we might have, nor are we/they likely to be fully conscious of our own deep inner ‘feelings’ of our own isolation, separation, alienation irrespective of how, when, why, by and through whom such profound ‘feelings’ and ‘perceptions’ originated. Ostensibly ‘welcoming’ places, often with ‘greeters’ and ‘name tags,’ and agendas of invitations to join various activities, churches are consistently ‘working’ vigorously to attract and to integrate and to sustain new people. Underlying this central focus and motive, of course, is the usually understated, often never mentioned, but inescapable drive for ‘dollars’. While certainly attempting to be defined and to operate differently than the local businesses, based on sales, marketing, and the provision of services, in a kind of conventional consumer/provider transaction, nevertheless, from a pragmatic perspective, it does come down to ‘dollars-for-attendance'. 

Of course, there are churches who will state publicly that one is expected to contribute only what one can, and only if one can, the ethos is quite unequivocal that contributions are needed and expected. Prayers of thanks over the collection plates, while reverent authentic and an integral component of the liturgy do nothing to erase the basic proposition. There are many specific ‘goals of ministry’ to which some of these dollars will be distributed: food banks, flowers for Sunday services, transportation for clergy and laity to regional or provincial/state conferences, gifts for guest artists, clergy, consultants, as well as the payment of the monthly operating expenses like salaries, heat, energy, building repairs and renewal, choir gowns, Christian education supplies and training of instructors, communication vehicles both hard and digital...and the list continues. 

The organizational modus operandi starts, very quickly, to imitate a commercial enterprise in spite of all of the various and subtle ways by which attempts are made to avoid (even deny) such perceptions. Especially counter-intuitive to the pastoral goals and image is the depressing and even oppressive drive to prove ‘success’ by growing in numbers of people in pews and dollars in plates. How can such an extrinsic goal, frequently having overtaken the demands and expectations of both lay leaders and institutional hierarchy, not imitate, replicate, duplicate and resonate with the corporate, capitalist business model? 

I personally know of a narrative in which a bishop instructed an openly depressed clergy to ‘fill the coffers and the pews’ only a matter of a few days prior to that clergy’s taking his own life at the altar. The clergy opined to his secretary, prior to his death, that he knew very well ‘how’ to accomplish that directive but refused simply because it would be manipulative. This is not to assert or assume that the bishop’s directive was the single cause of his suicide, or necessarily even correlated to the event. It was, however, part of the narrative gathered subsequently.  

Another personal anecdote concerns a corporate businessman, who reported he  previously represented Motorola in Moscow, and who, in an interview with this scribe made two significant points: 

First, he was a personal friend of the bishop, the obvious inference being that his position on my acceptance as their new clergy would be reflective of his assessment for the bishop...and 

Second, a quote, ‘I am proud to have been highly instrumental in driving the previous clergy out of our parish because he was not spiritual enough...and you are not spiritual enough either!” The inference here was that I was not enthusiastically endorsing, without considerable further investigation, his ‘marketing concepts’ of a contemporary musical band and also potentially a literal, evangelical, fundamentalist interpretation of scripture. The piece of information that a committee of four or five parishioners from that parish had conducted a three-hour personal interview and attended a Sunday morning service where I was assigned, and were eager to recommend my selection, was completely irrelevant to this ‘controller’. 

In both a culture and a faith community in which the individual is considered far above the nature of the group and its responsibility, and where tutelage on ‘building relationships and enhancing community’ is rare and perhaps slowly evolving, few clergy are prepared, tutored, role modelled and certainly not evaluated in the details of the skills necessary for the accomplishment of such objectives. Indeed, any knowledge, experience or creative insights an incipient clergy might have about how to ‘nurture community’ (outside of the biblical instructions, examples and injunctions, some of which may apply to the specific situation) would have to have been garnered from a previous life, for example, in the military, or in education, or perhaps even in business. Some former nurses, doctors and social workers do enter the ministry with their unique experiences, although the transferability of their experience and skills might be thwarted by resistance to ‘outside’ influences already established with a parish. 

There is another facet of this matter of building, growing, nurturing relationships and that focuses on the innate, inherent (?) differences between men and women. It is facile and perhaps stereotypical to note that women often enter supportive circles, personal therapy, and relationships of mutual support in serious personal life issues. Men, on the other hand, rarely do or even entertain such approaches. Getting the ‘job’ done in the most efficient, effective and professional manner guides most men, especially those in leadership/executive positions. Relationships, for the most part of left to the ‘personnel department’ especially if and when there might be a conflict between co-workers. 

Pastoral perspectives, while perhaps similar to those of social work or psychotherapy, nevertheless are unique. Instilling the perspectives of pastoral perspectives, however, in a culture where ‘doing’ trumps ‘being’ is a challenge. The challenge is evident in a small yet frequently expressed interest of parishioners to visit church members who are hospitalized, often very seriously ill. The first words (or intent) most potential visitors wish to utter, and almost always do, are, “You are definitely going to beat this ‘thing’ and you will better and out of here in no time!” The scene is not intended as a condemning critique, especially of the motive of the pastoral visitor’s caring. 

It offers the opportunity, however, to shift what we might agree is conventional social dialogue. To uplift, to inspire, to offer hope and to leave the hospital room feeling as if ‘I have accomplished something that feels good!’ is a noble, honourable, ethical and moral motive. Pstorally, however, it may well be antithetical to and incompatible with the emotional state of the patient. Here is the ‘rub’ of pastoral relations: the interest, concerns, feelings and emotional/psychic state of the patient/client must be the focus of the exchange, not the needs, aspirations, hopes and motives of the visitor. This is not a tutorial in psychotherapy; it is intended as a primary guide for all those who wish to entertain the option of ‘visiting’ a person who might be struggling, whether from illness or some other emotional distress. 

The first thing to remember is that, like the first downhill skiing lesson, you have to learn to stop. And stopping in this instance involves putting one’s own thoughts, feelings, emotions and expectations aside, in order to open to a concentrated consideration of the ‘fullness’ of the state in which the ‘other’ is at this moment. The cliché of ‘walking a mile in another’s mocassins’ may start a process of reflection. However, it might require some time, reflection, imagination and empathy (as opposed to and compared with compassion) to ‘put oneself’ in the precise moment of the ‘other’s’ existence. How would I be feeling if I were in the precise moment of this other person’s life? What are the emotions that s/he might be experiencing? How might I be able to enter a space that identifies with the space of the other?  These questions need not be answered prior to the visit, necessarily. They might help in opening the conversation. “How are you feeling?” is a better opening than, ‘I know you’re going to beat this!’ Listening carefully, concentrating on the facial expression, the body language, the tone of voice the demeanour and even the attire of ‘the other’ are all openings to help discern the moment. 

Being seen and being known....these words describe a universal human longing, desire, aspiration and irrepresible drive. There are no professional manuals, programmed steps or tutorials that can or will offer complete menus for pastoral relationship growth. These few meanderings are intended only as an opening set of suggestions. However, for us to recognize that universal drive of being seen and being known, we have to set aside our ‘performative’ instincts, our public image and expectations and attempt to ‘insert’ our imaginations, our words, (or silence) our body language and our presence into the depth of the other’s moment. 

Another cliche about human conversations is that many people listen at the level permitted by their intense need to prepare a reply. Preparing a reply to another’s comment is a sure way to slide past, ignore, avoid and thereby dismiss whatever emotional import might be hidden in the other’s expression. There will be men whose eyes are passing over these words, whose eyes will roll into their heads in exasperation, hopelessness and disdain.  

‘This ‘stuff’ may be fine for women,’ they will hear themselves utter, ‘but there is no way I am going to pay attention to these ideas.’ 

To those men, I quickly and assertively, but not aggressively, respond: The irony is that, as we begin to notice the details of another’s moment, and begin to enter into their space, without having to perform some ‘fix’ or some ‘cheer-up’ or some ‘prescription, we begin to learn more about how our emotions and psychic states also have a reality to which we may have been unconscious. 

The intersection of both psychic reality and religion may very well offer a parallel paradigm to and through the intersection of our consciousness with our unconsciousness. It is not that one can or should dominate, nor that either can or should be ignored. And to attempt a rational balance is both out of the question and out of reach. Our religious life can and will be enhanced in and through our opening the gate on the moat which keeps our unconscious at bay. Similarly, our psychic/emotional life will be enhanced as we open the gate on what we actually ‘see’ or ‘imagine’ or ‘conceive’ of when we think of God. 

We do not have to be formal students, or professionally trained to enter into these processes. They are open and available to all every moment of every day. 

And to open the gates of these metaphoric moats is independent, separate and apart from whatever financial goals and objectives our parish might have.