living from the heart...

Yesterday was saturated in paradox. That's true daily, but I was more keenly aware as Saturday ripened. First, it was cold, grey, and wet. Buckets and buckets of rain poured down upon our small retreat house, so we hunkered down in front of the fireplace and took it slow. Second, despite the outward serenity, my insides hurt: from out of nowhere (or so it seems to me), I had a painful flare-up of diverticulitis. Not the end of the world, and certainly not the worst pain I could experience, but it still hurt. Third, a beloved old friend died. We'd started emailing about a year ago, and two months ago she told me she had an incurable, fatal disease. We made a point to spend some time on the phone earlier this month - and then her oldest daughter reached out to let me mom had crossed over the day before Mother's Day. I rejoiced that for Bettye, all pain and suffering were over, even as I grieved her precious family's loss. We had spent lots of time together at my first church in Saginaw, MI - even travelling to the former Soviet Union with our youth group as part of a people-to-people peace brigade. And then, one of the men I am doing spiritual direction with checked in to let me know his dad was likely close to death now, too.

One of the blessings of pastoral ministry is being connected with others in love. Not co-dependent, but blessed by the ties that bind. I can compartmentalize with the best of them, but sharing the ups and downs of real life always cuts deep for me. I still weep in sadness and celebration whenever I sing verse three of the new/old hymn: Won't You Let Me Be Your Servant? My experience of ministry might best be summarized as:

I will weep when you are weeping, when you laugh, I'll laugh with you;
I will share your joys and sorrows till we've seen this journey through.

This type of ministry is not bound by political ideology or activism of one type or another - and that's why I love it so. My mentor in pastoral ministry, the Rev. Dr. Ray Swartzback, used to tell me that before people are willing to make a change in their lives, they must trust you - and trust is not portable. Every new person and context requires not only showing up with compassion and attention, but also choosing to walk together in solidarity without judgment. Phoning it in is NOT how true ministry takes place. And my experience over 40+ years is that Swartzy was right. Despite my own discomfort yesterday, and the many miles separating us all, we found a way to stay connected, trusting that as human beings we have more in common than we realize. As that same hymn adds:

We are pilgrims on a journey, we are travelers on the road;

We are here to help each other, walk the mile and bear the load.

I will hold the Christ light for you in the nighttime of your fear;

I will hold my hand out to you, speak the peace you long to hear.

Today, the sun is shining on the glorious little lake in front of us. My discomfort is slowly abating. A new Pope shares the promise of solidarity with the world even as he struggles to make peace with his own unique blessings and blind spots. Sorrow shall return, of course. So, too, injustice and fear. I like the way Fr. Richard Rohr puts it:

In our ugly and injurious present political climate, it’s become all too easy to justify fear-filled and hateful thoughts, words, and actions, often in defense against the “other” side. True spiritual action (as opposed to reaction) demands our own ongoing transformation and a voluntary “exile,” choosing to be where the pain is, as Jesus exemplified in his great self-emptying. You and I are placed in this world of hatred, violence, anger, injustice, and oppression to help God transform it, transfigure it, and change it so that there will be compassion, laughter, joy, peace, reconciliation, fellowship, friendship, togetherness, and family. We are here to bring others out of exile.