Ten Questions (Thanks to PFO)

A few days ago I posted a bit about my struggle with a post on my one my favorite blogs. ( I think that the original post generated some other responses, as I have noted a few words quietly written by others addressing the value, or lack thereof, of extreme suffering.)

Yesterday, I had the opposite experience -- and it's only fair to give credit and offer gratitude where due.  Yesterday's People for Others post offered Ten Questions for our consideration.  The first two are "Lord, what is your desire for me?" and "Lord, where can I serve you today?"  (Head on over to the site for the remaining eight, and for the conversation the questions provoked.)

As I was skimming the internet yesterday morning, I was also pulling together the final pieces a funeral service after nearly a week during which much of my time had been spent with a family reeling from an unexpected loss.  At such a time, it's easy to become distracted:  What does this or that person want?  What's appropriate?  How many bulletins do we need? What's behind that person's behavior?  What about the children who are going to participate?  Will it be elegant and beautiful, solemn and meaningful, gentle and consoling? Will I be able to direct the grieving congregation's attention to God? What on earth happened to the candle-lighter?

I am so grateful that those ten questions popped up on my computer screen and provided a focus that stayed with me all day. 

Minister of Word and Sacrament, or Teaching Elder?

Background in Brief (VERY Brief):

In the Reformed Protestant Church, we do our best to limit distinctions between those who serve as official, ordained ministers and those who serve in other ways.  The usual shorthand for this orientation is the term "the priesthood of all believers." One of the most famous Scriptural bases for same is found in I Peter 2:9: "But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light."

In the Presbyterian Church, the formal terms for our elected and ordained leaders, derived from John Calvin's 16th century days in Geneva, are "ruling elders" ~ those who govern the church ~and "teaching elders" ~ those who lead the church as its pastors. 

Those terms are not much used, at least not in the PC(USA) as I know it. In fact, although I am officially a ruling elder of my home church, I had never heard the term until I went to seminary for an admissions interview. ("Oh, you're a ruling elder!" exclaimed the admissions director.  "What's that?" I asked.)

Despite all of the foregoing, we have long ordained pastors to the Ministry of Word and Sacrament.

This past summer, a new provision in our Book of Order went into effect, a provision which states that pastors are to be officially designated as Teaching Elders.   (Thankfully ~ see below ~ the designation "Minister of Word and Sacrament" is retained as well.)  The motivation, as I understand it, is to reduce the sense of hierarchy among us, especially among the members of the Session (governing council) of a church and its pastor(s).

The dilemma:

I am in favor, on the whole, of minimizing such distinctions. My Catholic friends often make references along the lines of, "She's a laywoman who does such-and-such" ~ references that always cause me to squirm.  (Or more.  This summer, in response to such a remark by a good friend, I finally burst out with, "Why do you DEFINE people that way ?!")  Several years ago, another Catholic friend expressed her surprise at having been asked to make a presentation to a group of priests and nuns ~ "all those people who are way holier than I am!"  Needless to say, that seemed an odd concept to me.  What would make them any more ~ or less ~ holy than she is?

I'm not a proponent of clerical dress outside of worship, or collars, or titles.  It seems to mean a lot to many in my congregation to call me "Pastor," but that's not my doing.  From my vantage point, pastoral authority is something very real, but also very low-key.  In fact, my usual experience of authority and expertise in all arenas of life has led me to the following conclusion: the more minimal the display, the more impressive the person.

On.the.other.hand ~ Teaching elder?  Really? All of the following components of the Ministry of the Word incorporate teaching, but their essence lies in other aspects: Preaching?  Proclamation.  Spiritual Direction? Presence and guidance.  Pastoral care?  Presence and assistance.  Leadership?  Vision and administration.  Mission?  Hope and Generosity.

And what happened to the sacramental aspect of ministry?  Like it or not, ministers ~ teaching elders ~ are the ones who celebrate the sacraments.  The vision and hope of exercising that particular leadership is what propels many of us through the years of Greek, Hebrew, theology, church history, and the more tedious aspects of seminary curriculum.  And yes, sacramental celebration incorporates a teaching element ~ but sacramental celebration is fundamentally about our connection to the mystery of God through the tangible and embodied aspects of our lives.

Ironically, my own quite brilliant and very Presbyterian professor of worship and sacraments is quite interested in the Eastern Orthodox Church (in fact, I think he's in Russia this year) and often laments the Protestant emphasis on Word at the expense of Sacrament.  I wish his views had received more attention during the debate in this particular change in the Book of Order.

As a ready-to-be-ordained Presbyterian minister, I have no illusions about where we stand in the hierarchy of the church.  I believe that the pertinent passage is found in Philippians 2.

And I love teaching.  As a lawyer, as a mother, as someone actually paid from time to time to teach, as a writer, and as a pastor, teacher defines much of who and what I am.

But the overarching gifts in my life are about ministry, which it seems to me encompasses a different vision,

And so, next Sunday: Ordination to the Ministry of Word and Sacrament!

What Do You Want?

As I skimmed my sidebar this morning, three links (and I went looking for a fourth) caught my attention.

The title of today's Abbey of the Arts post is The Curves of My Longing. The topic does not, of course, concern the curves of my longing.  I am now in possession of  two recent incision scars  that follow the contours of my body's curves, and my immediate longing is for the pain to subside.  My longer-term wish, the desire of which I am reminded by the heavy tenderness accompanying my every movement, is that I not have to continue the journey represented by those scars.  That wish has not been granted, and so I wonder: With what do I replace it?

Second link: People for Others today references another post by another writer, who asks: 

"What does my faith give me? It gives me a love story. Not a story that explains love, but a story that gives birth to—and directs my heart, mind, and very being to—the fullest expression and fulfillment of love."

and then responds:

"Am I, because of my faith, better at love than those with no faith? Difficult to say, but I’m going to guess the answer is “No.” Am I, because of my faith, better at love than I would be without my faith? Also difficult to say. I hope the answer is “Yes,” but then I cannot answer with certainty. At the end of the day, I walk in darkness like everyone else, and I hope that this sacred story, the story of my life, and the stories all around me in what I see and hear are all one in the same, even while they are many and different."

And I wonder the same thing: Am I better at love because of my faith?  Probably not.  (Just ask anyone who lives with me.)  Perhaps I am merely better at longing to be better at love.

Some years ago as I was walking along the Little Lakes, I stopped to watch a pair of young green herons learning to balance in the small trees overhanging Lower Lake.  They were quite comical, with both their pin feathers and their legs sticking out in all directions.

This morning, the following image, of a graceful adult green heron, appears in Picturing God:

My comment was that it's inspiring to see what can be appropriated with a season of practice.

What do you want?  That's the perennial question posed by Ignatian spirituality, inhabiting every crevice of life with its assertion that God speaks to us through our desires.  I recall my astonishment at the insistence with which my spiritual director posed that question as we made our way through the Spiritual Exercises, as if what I wanted was of some import ~ not just to me, but to God.  What do you want what do you want what do you want?

What is the curve of your longing?  What does your faith give you?  Are you better at love because you have been drawn into the most all-encompassing narrative of love?  Have you been transformed from the awkward beginner struggling to maintain her balance on the slim branch in the wind to the seasoned,  grace-filled adult who knows that just below the surface of the water lie nourishment and life?

The verses of John 4:13-14 constitute the theme for my ordination service.  The words have been speaking to me since somewhere deep in Week 2 of the Exercises, and today they seem more appropriate than ever, resonating through literal scars and green herons and the narrative of all of our lives.