Archives: Articles

One Plot at a Time (Luke 2:5-19)

If I could tell when the end times were on their way by the number of wars, famines, earthquakes and plagues that are afflicting our world, I’d say, "Wow! Here they come!" The Middle East, Africa, Asia, Latin America -- you name it, atrocities are taking place. Even in the United States of America, the home of the free, the hope of the huddled masses, the place where no one really has to go hungry, human-caused disaster is everywhere.

Consider the terrible things that are happening to the poor and sick who have lost their medical care, to children in awful schools, to their underpaid, often terrified teachers. Think of young women and men who have struggled for their educations and now have no work, of older folks who have been laid off, of others trying to make it the best they can in jobs that pay so little. Surely we are not waiting for the end times; we are already there.

There are two things, however, that trip me up when I am tempted to read the Lukan passage in this immediate way. First, Jesus says in other places, pretty emphatically, that nobody knows the day and the hour of the end except God alone. This means, as my former colleague Bill Mallard used to say, if you think you know when it’s coming, the very fact you think so is proof that you don’t.

The other thing that stops me in my tracks is that Luke 21:12 and the verses following make it very clear that before the great apocalyptic end of life as we have known it, we Christians will be arrested and otherwise persecuted because of our faithfulness to the gospel, and by this be given the chance to testify to the gospel.

This is tough -- no kidding. Before the end comes, I am going to testify to the truth of the gospel that because each person is of infinite value to God, no one ought to withhold from anybody what they need for life. That wealth is not God’s reward to the righteous or poverty God’s punishment. That God’s most particular concern is for the helpless, the poor and struggling, the hopeless and the outcast. That getting revenge on the personal or national level is wrong. And I should expect a lot of trouble for speaking out.

Witness, how? Considering the enormity of the world’s problems, all the injustice, callousness and greed and the suffering and pain that follow them, I am tempted to lie down and not get up again. How can I testify to the gospel in a massively afflicted world when I am only one person, and an insignificant one at that?

Ruminating on all this, I find my life and my Christian hope being saved once again by a great early monastic teacher of the Egyptian desert, Poemen. Apparently, in a fit of grandiose enthusiasm with respect to his own potential for sacrificial witness, one of Poemen’s disciples asked him what Jesus meant when he said that "no one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends." His answer, I am certain, is not at all what the disciple expected:

In truth [Poemen told him] if someone hears an evil saying, that is, one which harms him, and in his turn, he wants to repeat it, he must fight in order not to say it. Or if someone has taken advantage of it and he bears it, without retaliation at all, then he is giving his life for his neighbor.

In short, as the abbas and the ammas of the desert tell their disciples repeatedly, and tell me, too, no matter how serious or global the problem, insisting on a grandiose solution can end only in despair.

I must remember instead that, though there are "the hungry," "the collateral damage" of war, "the unemployed" or "unregistered aliens," it is individuals, single children, men and women, who are hungry. sick, out of work or without limbs from bombs that fell on their houses. It is these folks, not abstract categories, that need my witness.

It is tempting to think that nothing really is done for anybody by seemingly small, everyday things when the problems are so systemic. As my teachers remind me, however, the truth is just the opposite: without the little things, there are no big changes.

One day, when a brother came to his teacher despairing because he was so far behind in his prayers he figured he would never catch up, his abba told him a story:

A man had a plot of land that had become a wilderness of thistles and thorns. He decided to cultivate it and said to his son: "Go and clear that ground." But when the son went to clear it, he saw that the thistles and thorns had multiplied. He thought, "How much time shall I need to clear and weed all this?" and lay on the ground instead, and went to sleep. He did this day after day.

When his father found him doing nothing, the son explained his discouragement. The father replied, "Son, if you had cleared each day the area on which you lay down, your work would have advanced slowly and you would not have lost heart." The son did what his father said, and in a short time the plot was cultivated.

I’m forgetting about the end times. I am not sure how long it could take to cultivate earth, our own plot, even with the grace of God. I am sure, however, that I will do what I can, and witness to the gospel, only if I am willing to accept that the ground must be dug up locally, one kindness, one intervention, one time when I say what I really think, one quiet vote cast at a time.

Sin of Scorn (Luke 18:9-14)

The first time I heard this parable was as a small child attending vacation Bible school at Fond Fork Baptist Church, where my great-grandparents, great-aunts and grandparents all worshiped. I remember the end of the little curtained balcony where our class was held, sunlight coming into our room rejoicing through a dusty window, the buzzing of insects in the July fields outside, a flannel board with figures stuck on it, and best of all, the anticipation of a story, followed by Kool-Aid and cookies.

And so I listened. There were two grown-ups who went to the temple to pray. One of them was rich and successful, while the other, whom nobody liked, was a tax collector. The rich man, a Pharisee, prayed first, and thanked God that he wasn’t a sinner like the tax collector standing next to him, and then he bragged about all the good stuff he had done.

The tax collector went next. When he prayed, he wouldn’t even look up at God. Instead, he just stood there banging on his chest and asking God to forgive his sins. God listened to the tax collector’s prayer and saved him, but turned his back on the Pharisee, who ended up in hell.

At the end of the story, our teacher asked us questions. What did the -one man do wrong and the other do right? What was this story really about?

Whether I answered, I couldn’t tell you, but I recall that the message was clear as day. The first man had bragged about himself, refused to confess that he was a terrible sinner, and thought he was better than the tax collector. The second man, our hero, got right down to it. He groveled before God and asked God to forgive him, and God did. The moral of the story, therefore: we all need to admit to God that we are sinners, ask for forgiveness and stop bragging.

I’m not sure I thought about this parable seriously again until I was in seminary and assigned to work a few hours a week at a church. In general, I didn’t enjoy what I was doing, which was to help with the youth group. I was an introvert, and I was too close to my own high school days when I had felt like a nerdy social outcast.

My low point came on the day I had to fill in for the absent teacher of the Sunday school class for the teen-agers’ parents, a bunch of grown-ups who were powerful, outspoken and of a very different persuasion than I when it came to politics and religion.

I didn’t expect trouble. But the class was a disaster. It opened with a prayer led by the class president, a self-confident, obviously successful man. Then I began to read: "Two men went up to the temple to pray. . ."

The reading ended in chaos. Apparently there were people there who had not heard it before. "What do you mean, ‘one went home justified and the other did not’?" demanded someone. "Didn’t the Pharisee do all those good things? Are you telling us they don’t count for anything with God?" another challenged. "And that tax collector," someone else added. "Did I hear you say that God doesn’t judge sin?"

I can’t remember much of what I answered that day. I tried to make it clear that I hadn’t made the story up, but I don’t recall if I said anything about recognizing ourselves to be sinners, or bragging, or looking down on anybody. What I do remember is that the class complained about me the next day, and I ended up never wanting to work in a church again.

In spite of my humiliation and anger, however, I could not avoid tucking their basic questions into the back of my mind. What had the Pharisee actually done to make God reject him? How did God look upon his failure to admit his sin and his apparent bragging about his good deeds?

Surprisingly, he did not use it to make his monks stop bragging, ignore their own good deeds and acknowledge that they were sinners. Dorotheos said that the Pharisee was doing the right thing when he thanked God for giving him the ability to do good -- as should they (the monks) themselves. The Pharisee only did one thing wrong: he passed judgment on the whole person of the tax collector and with scorn dismissed him and his whole life as worthless.

I still find Dorotheos’s reading of this parable to be riveting. Like his monks, we too live in a world of scorching, escalating, judgmental scorn -- our own and others’ -- that is grinding us all down to the bone. As Christians, how can we ever escape it? Perhaps we need not so much to quit bragging about our goodness and admit that we are sinners, as to give up the whole question of whether any of us are sinners. (I suspect that if I can acknowledge and learn to thank God when I am able to do something good, I will not have to demonstrate my worth to myself by despising those whose lives look very different from mine.)

"There is no other sin than that of being scornful," one of the desert Abbas used to say. As Dorotheos suggests, allowing ourselves to experience gratitude to God for the good we can do may truly provide some healing for our scornful souls.

Learning to Pray: An Interview with Roberta C. Bondi

Many of us feel we ought to pray more than we do, but we often find praying difficult, -- or something we are uneasy about. Why do you think this is?

I can think of three kinds of obstacles that get in the way of prayer. The first is that for many of us in mainline Protestant traditions -- and for many Catholics too, I'm discovering -- prayer is not something we have been allowed to talk about at home or in church. It is regarded as an embarrassing topic, and a private topic.People who are not intimidated in any other area of their lives are intimidated by the idea of prayer. We are especially intimidated when people announce themselves as experts in prayer - and there are those who take the "I will tell you how to do it" approach.

Another problem is that we relate to God in terms of duty. There are liberal and conservative versions of this, but it comes to the same thing. The prevalence of "ought" and "should" language kills a lot of relationships with God. Nobody wants to be around someone whom you relate to only in terms of duty. I'm willing to relate to people that way some of the time, but don't expect me to want to do it. But for the monastic teachers of the early church, with whom I've spent a lot of time, a relationship with God is one of desire and delight. This is really a different basis for prayer.

The third thing that gets in the way of prayer is the images of God that we carry around, and which govern our hearts. We can have an image of God as a terrifying or judgmental being. In that case, perhaps, for some of us, not being able to pray is itself a gift of grace. Our ideas of God often come from when we were little, and they are associated with authority figures. Churches may reinforce the vision of God as a judge or as one who is interested in us only when we're bad. You can see this in the way we sometimes talk about the "will of God" for our lives. The "Will of God" almost always has negative content to it. What God wants is definitely not going to be what we want.

Perhaps those people are acknowledging, or attempting to acknowledge, that God's will is not always our will.

Our theology may tell us that God wants something different from what we want, but we rarely go on to ask, What is it that God does want? God desires the thriving and wholeness of the human race. I mostly hear about the "will of God," however, when people are considering why a baby drowned in a swimming pool and that kind of thing. The point being made is usually that God's ways are inscrutable, and we get hurt in the process.

Let's go back to the obstacles to prayer. Do you think people are also theologically and philosophically uncertain about what prayer is? For example, they wonder if prayer is essentially an inner monologue, in which case it might be better termed "meditation." On the other hand, if they think prayer is a dialogue with God, they're often not sure what it means to have God respond-and they are uneasy with people who speak confidently about what God has revealed to them.

We are so verbal, especially in the Protestant tradition, that it's hard for us not to imagine prayer either as monologue, in which I tell God things and God listens, or as a conversation in which I tell God things and God answers back. But from what I understand out of the ancient monastic materials I work on, prayer is really an entire relationship, and the verbal part is only one element. A lot of what we learn when we pray is to be quiet. We need to stop thinking that a relationship is constituted only by language. The closer we get to other people, and the better our friendships are, the more silence these relationships contain. The people we talk to all the time are probably the people we don't know.terribly well and whom we don't trust. The issue is not so much "Does God talk back and if so how?" but whether we can learn just to be in God's presence.

Intercession is a large part of prayer, and here again uncertainties arise. When we pray for other people -- for the homeless, for those who are ill, for those suffering in Bosnia -- we may think, Well, this is in God's hands anyway, isn't it? What is the point of my prayer?

The question of intercessory prayer is really an interesting one, because it raises the issue of what we want from prayer. It seems to me that one of the aims of prayer is to grow in friendship with God. If this is the case, then let's consider what constitutes a friendship, and then try to pray in accordance with that. One of the things about friends is that they want the same thing for each other. Not that they necessarily both want ice cream at the same time, but that the well-being of one person is tied to the wellbeing of the other. This doesn't just mean that God wants what we want, but that we want what God wants out of friendship for God. That is a basis for intercessory prayer. If God's deepest longing is for the well-being of the world, then God wants the wellbeing of Bosnia, and we pray for that out of friendship with God.

Another thing about friends is that they speak their minds to each other. When friends don't tell each other what they have on their minds, it destroys the friendship. This is another grounds for intercessory prayer. It doesn't matter that God already knows everything. For the sake of friendship, God needs us to say what we want. Whether we get it or not is a different matter. You don't always get what you ask for from your friend -- maybe most of the time you don't get it - but you need to say what it is you need and want.

It's already clear from your comments as well as from your writing that your encounter with the spirituality of the desert fathers and mothers has been crucial -- intellectually, theologically and spiritually. Can you tell us about this encounter?

There is so much involved that it's hard to summarize. I do remember clearly coming across a sixth-century homily which said that we ought to go easy on one another, and not judge one another, because God regards us so much more mercifully than we regard one another, and more mercifully than we regard ourselves. This was a mind-boggling, revolutionary idea for me. It struck me that if this is true, then God isn't a terrifying person I need to stay away from.

Was the message of God's mercy present in the churches you attended as a child?

I don't think it was there at all in the Baptist revival. It wasn't part of my family experience. It was there in the Methodist church, but I couldn't hear it. So when I encountered this idea, it was like a brand new idea. It was like running into a new scientific principle.

Were you at all inclined to say that these sixth century folk had it wrong, or did it ring true?

It rang so true that it completely undid me. It didn't even occur to me that it might be wrong. I really regard that as the moment when I became Christian. What I couldn't do for several years was assimilate this truth. Because if this were true, many other things that I believed couldn't be true. And I had to work through those other things --which had to do with being female, and leaming that I really am made in the image of God, that God really does have a preference for the oppressed and the outcast.

This was before the advent of the women's movement. I had all these parts of myself that did not go with being feminine in the early '60s and mid-'60s, and I was doing everything I could to discard those parts of myself. These were good things about myself that I was trying to get rid of. It took me a while to recognize that God didn't see me in the same way I saw myself, but saw me through much gentler eyes.

How did this realization affect your approach to prayer?

Like a lot of people, I had thought that if you turned everything over to the Lord, you would be at peace. So I had expectations about prayer that ran quite contrary to what else was going on in my life. One of the important things I learned from the fathers and mothers, the Abbas and Ammas, is that prayer is a lifelong process. Friendship with God is the goal, not the starting point. I also learned that prayer is the process of in-gathering all the parts of ourselves that we don't want. It's quite common for us to think that we are to enter God's presence only when we're worthy. But what God is interested in is our bringing our whole self into the relationship.

One of my favorite sayings of the monastics is that prayer is warfare to the last breath. Prayer is hard work -- and painful a lot of the time because it makes us face parts of ourselves and accept parts of ourselves that we'd rather not.

What have been some of the "warfare" issues for you?

One of them has been fighting the barriers that stand between myself and God, barriers that have to do with the images of God that I have carried in my head. For years and years I couldn't call God Father in my prayer because my relationship with my human father was so painful. My father was so authoritarian and judgmental that to think of God as Father meant I could experience God only as judgmental, authoritarian, and contemptuous of me as female.

The point when I realized I had to do something about this barrier coincided with the moment I realized I had to do something about my relationship with my human father, whom I had not seen for years. I didn't want to see him, but the Ammas and Abbas that I had spent all my time working on and with whom I had many conversations on prayer kept saying, Look, the goal of the Christian life is love of God and love of neighbor, and if your father isn't your neighbor, nobody's your neighbor. This is not optional.

This was part of the warfare. The other part was realizing that I was going to have to choose deliberately to address God as Father in my prayer and work through scripture passages and so forth, and figure out exactly what I had in my own heart -- what I believed. A whole lot of the warfare of prayer is about figuring out the discrepancies between the theology in our heads and our actual working theology and facing that discrepancy head on. What if I prayed to God as Father and found out that God really was who I was afraid God the Father was and that God rejected me as my human father had as a child? I've had several other points at which I've had to confront my worst fears in my prayer, confront God and say, "Is this really true about you? I've got to know this from firsthand experience and not just as something that I read about in books."

You have made a rigorous effort to be honest before God and to achieve some self-knowledge. Perhaps not everybody would have either your persistence or your analytical inclination.

People have different levels of needs. A lot of what has driven me has been pain which has been so unbearable that the choice has been either to deal with it or go under. I think many of us get help from therapy in understanding what our problems are, and it doesn't occur to us to take our problems into our relationship with God. We somehow have the idea that our relationship with God is different from other relationships. But theologically this is what it means to be made in the image of God -- that our human relationships are mirrors of our relationship with God.

What would you say to somebody who comes into your office and asks you to help get them started in a discipline of prayer?

Actually, this is a requirement in my course on "Theology and the Christian Life in the Early Church." .I tell students that there's no way to understand the monastics unless you're trying to approach things from their angle. This is not just intellectual stuff, it's about a relationship with God. I don't care if they end up feeling at the end of the semester as though they haven't succeeded -- whatever that means; they've got to commit themselves to trying.

I ask everybody to include three elements in their prayer. One is some portion of scripture every day. I explain to them the Liturgy of the Hours, and how the backbone of monastic prayer was the psalms. The other part of their prayer is conversation with God in which they really speak their minds. We talk about the things that make it difficult to speak our minds to God, especially about being afraid of God. The third part of their prayer is silence: just sitting in God's presence without saying anything or having any expectations of God or of themselves. I call it kitchen table prayer. Just spending time with God as we spend time with a friend without tallking.

For students who are afraid of God, who have emphasized God's righteousness and their sinfulness, God's bigness and their wormlikeness, I suggest that they find something that doesn't occupy their minds but is pleasant to do, like handiwork, or doing a crossword puzzle, or even reading a detective novel, and to just sit in God's presence. That is a way to begin to learn that God is trustworthy and that God isn't that person they're afraid of, but somebody else.

I emphasize that however much time they've decided to give to prayer, they should cut it back before they even start. Maybe start with ten minutes. Then they can add a little bit if they want to. One of the things that derails prayer faster than anything else is starting with some sort of noble idea of what it ought to be. I stress that prayer is a

pretty ordinary, everyday kind of thing. Yes, it has its high moments, but a lot of prayer is just a matter of showing up.

One would tend to think that in mainline churches today people are not encountering a God who is primarily judgmental.

Mainline churches may not formally talk about God the way the churches I grew up in did, but people's experiences can still make them view God in those terms. It's distressing how many of my students still deal with the fearsomeness of God, not because they have encountered it at church, but because they've grown up in households in which one or both of the parents were highly critical of who their children are. And if people's earliest experiences of authority figures is that they're not trustworthy, that they're frightening, then it's hard for them to believe that God is trustworthy. However we may think we relate to God, or want to relate to God, we tend to relate to God the way we related as children to the significant adults in our life.

Another issue that arises in mainline churches is the sense that God is absent. Imagine someone growing up in a household in which their parents are emotionally absent, and then going to a liberal church, which preaches about a God who is interested in social-justice issues but not interested in individuals. All that serves to distance God.

What was as powerful in my young life as the Baptist revivals I went to was going to a seminary where it was emphasized that God doesn't have time for people's petty little individual concerns, because God is concerned only with large issues like social justice -- the war in Bosnia, not the individual suffering of one family. That was as judgmental -- as much hell, fire and damnation -- as anything I ever heard in any Baptist revival.

People are also struggling with a perfectionism that may have started in their families, but which churches seem to endorse. Our churches project an image of what you're supposed to be like when you go to church: you have to be successful, you have to have a happy face. You may be going through a divorce or your kids may be on drugs, but you still need to look like you've got it together. All this indicates to people that God is interested only in people who have it together. That is really just as oppressive to my students as anything I grew up with.

Sauntering

Dear Jonathan: I appreciate your letter about experiences in your first parish, and I want to respond to your remarks about the tension between feeling "at home" and "not at home." Feeling at home helps us penetrate the thoughts and feelings of our parishioners, so as to help them make sense of life. But identifying with parishioners' needs and pleasures can make us rely too much on their approval. We no longer are able to take a broad or critical view of what's going on in their lives or ours.

 It is painful to recognize that the very achievements that make us feel good about ministry can be danger signs: that people begin to call this Dan's church," that I am getting careless about repetition in sermons that I'm reluctant to challenge the folks who are my friends, that I tend to socialize with the people I'm comfortable with and avoid the "difficult" ones, that I can control in advance a committee's deliberations.

 On the other side, to insist on a professional distance can mask an aloofness that undercuts ministry. And I can comfort myself with the thought that I deserve better than this backwater parish, or these parishioners, can provide. Distance can be a way of not trusting the checks and balances of congregational life - the organic relationship of people and pastor with God.

 To think of being "at home" or "not at home" is to think about limits. Limits, which are seldom the ones we choose, define every place. In a rural parish where farming is shrinking both in acreage and influence, one enjoys little prospect for numerical growth. In a university town one is limited by a "single industry town" and a certain level of privilege. Suburbia is limited by its affluence and perhaps its guilt. But such limits also outline outreach. Can we help the farmers see the needs of other farmers, binding themselves across community or cultural lines? (In one such community we found it was the Heifer Project that broadened our outlook.) Can the university parishioners look to the international students in their midst? Can the suburban parish give its young people experiences in deprived parts of the world? In the biblical stories, local problems require setting out anew - perhaps leaving the place of oppression, as with Moses, or figuratively "leaving" by reorienting our minds, as did the captives in Babylonia.

 Limits define the ministry. When Duke Ellington was asked how he composed his music, he explained that his trumpet player could reach only certain notes and his trombone player,only certain other notes, so he wrote music within those notes. The limits, for him, described a channel for creativity.

 Religious folk speak of life as a pilgrimage toward our eternal home toward seeing the face of God, toward being reunited with the family of earth. In the Middle Ages it was the fashion in Europe to make a journey to the Holy Land. As the pilgrims came on foot across France and Italy, they traveled slowly, taking in the wonders of the lands they passed through. When people asked where they were going, they replied, "A la Sainte Terre," to the Holy Land. From this we have the word "saunter," which refers to a way of moving through life that is neither rambling nor reckless.

We are pilgrims in this way, finding moments and places that seem like home or that remind us of home, yet always with an unusual title that prods our ingenuity and resilience, and keeps us off balance. To paraphrase Miguel de Unamuno, "May God deny you a settled peace and give you glory."

Caring When it is Tough to Care

There is a prayer I often use when I reflect on the ministry of pastoral care. It was offered during a prayer circle by a woman whose name may be forgotten but whose offering has left the gift of these words:

May the knowledge of the love and grace of God sink from my head down into my heart so that it flows out of my hands, my mouth, my ears, and my eyes so that this body becomes the body of Christ in the world.

This prayer reveals one of the most important aspects of pastoral care -- engaging our physical being in the service of caring for others. We do this through our hands as we reach out and touch or refrain from touching, our mouths as we speak or remain silent, our ears as we listen to the voices of those who cry out or speak softly, and our eyes as we see things from the perspective of our faith. The church becomes the body of Christ in the way we care for one another.

But sometimes caring is tough. It's not easy to be with people in the midst of intense feelings, uncomfortable situations, and serious disagreements about moral and ethical decisions. In this reflection, I want to help you think about your feelings when confronted with a situation in which you want to care but find it difficult or almost impossible. I'll also offer suggestions for how you might deal with those feelings in ways that show care for both yourself and others.

What Is Congregational Pastoral Care?

The ministry of the church encompasses a variety of things such as worship, preaching, teaching, administering programs, and prophetic witness. Pastoral care is one of the church's ministries -- its caring response to individuals, families and communities who are in the midst of crises, life-changing decisions, even times of celebration and commitment such as baptism or marriage.

But pastoral care is the ministry of the whole congregation -- not just those individuals who happen to be ordained or called into the formal leadership of the church. As members of the body of Christ we are all called to be pastoral caregivers.

Congregational pastoral care occurs when members reach out through very concrete acts such as sitting by the bedside of someone who's ill, listening as parents describe their fears and grief when a teenager leaves home, offering hope to someone in despair, or praying for those who suffer on the margins of the church and society. To offer pastoral care is not the same as being someone's counselor or therapist. Nor is it simply being kind to people and doing nice things for them. Instead, being pastoral means being the body of Christ in some concrete living form as people turn to the church and its members for assistance and guidance in living their lives.

Why "Moral Dilemmas" in Pastoral Care?

Opportunities for pastoral care arise out of the everyday circumstances of people's lives. But these days, it's not uncommon to feel overwhelmed by the complexity of issues confronting us. In many ways, this world feels more confusing than we would wish. There may have been a time in history when it was possible to experience life as simple and straightforward. It might seem that there were clear choices and options for those who wanted to live a faithful life. That time no longer exists, if it ever did. People today face complex problems, difficult decisions, and increasingly ambiguous choices about matters of life and death. These give rise to moral and ethical dilemmas.

For the church to be pastoral it must be willing to engage in the real human drama of people's lives. This means entering into their pain and confusion, and even the messiness of life. Rarely are answers clear-cut and self-evident. As pastoral caregivers in the church, we must be willing to struggle with people as they try to figure out what to do. Moral and ethical dilemmas become opportunities for the church to express its care by its willingness to sit with people in the midst of turmoil and despair.

* In what ways is pastoral care something you do as a member of a congregation on a regular basis?

* How would you understand your role as a pastoral caregiver?

* What are people looking for when they ask members of a congregation for "help"?

* Why do people expect the church to have something to say to them in the midst of important life decisions or moral dilemmas?

Case Studies

Here are two case studies that provide an opportunity to reflect on what it means to be involved in pastoral care when people are making difficult choices about their lives. One of the most important aspects of being able to respond pastorally is to know yourself well enough to know what your reaction to cases like these might be and what kind of moral dilemmas they might pose for you.

You can probably imagine other moral and ethical dilemmas people face in their everyday lives -- perhaps from your own experience or someone that you know. If you're working through this reflection as part of a study group, it's okay to share your own examples with the rest of the group if you like. Keep them in mind along with these two case studies as you reflect on the suggestions and questions which follow.

Peter is a member of your church school class. He's 53 years old, a social worker who has always been very active in the community. Peter's married and has three adult children, two of whom still live in the same city and continue to participate in church activities. One morning, Peter asks for time during the church school class to discuss something important. He announces that he was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's disease quite some time ago. Now the disease is advancing rapidly and doctors have told him he has only months to live. The final stages of his illness will involve a great deal of pain and suffering. Peter has decided he wants to end his life before he is completely debilitated by the disease. His son, John, is the only family member who supports his wishes. The rest of the family is adamantly opposed and this is causing great conflict.

Emilia, a young teenager in the church's youth group has become quiet and withdrawn in the last several weeks. You're concerned about her and ask if everything is OK. She lowers her eyes and admits, "Things aren't going too well." You ask if she wants to talk and she begins to unfold a story which catches you off guard. She and her boyfriend Tom (also a member of the youth group) have been spending a lot of time together. Recently they had sexual intercourse and Emilia fears she might be pregnant. She has scheduled a test at the Teen Clinic for tomorrow and doesn't want to go alone. She asks if you'll go with her. She also wonders, if she is pregnant, would you assist her in getting an abortion? She hasn't told either her parents or Tom about her problem and asks that you not talk to them either.

  * Imagine Peter or Emilia coming to you with their concerns. How would you feel? What would your initial response be? Would you feel prepared to deal with the situation?

* What moral dilemmas might their situations cause for you? For instance, Peter's wish to end his life and his family's disagreement over his decision? And Emilia's decision to keep her fears about pregnancy a secret and her possible choice to have an abortion?

  How Can I Help?

  How are we to respond when called upon in the midst of someone's decision-making about such significant and difficult issues? And what are we to do when confronted with our own moral dilemmas in the context of pastoral care? Knowing a little about the traditional functions of pastoral care might help you think about how you could respond to someone like Peter or Emilia.

  The Functions of Pastoral Care

  Healing

  In its best moments, the church has been there to help people through their experiences of grief and sorrow. Bringing casseroles to the door of the family who has just experienced a loss, volunteering to do the farm chores in the wake of a catastrophe, just the presence of others at funeral homes and in hospital rooms show the very real ways people assist in healing one another's pain. Thus, congregation members perform the healing function of pastoral care as they come together in the midst of chaos, offering hope and wholeness in the midst of fragmentation and despair.

  It's more difficult to think about the process of healing when healing seems impossible. Peter's diagnosis means that he can't be physically healed from the pain and suffering of disease. Healing doesn't always mean a physical cure. Instead, it sometimes suggests how the church can foster emotional and spiritual healing in the midst of physical suffering. In Emilia's case, too, healing is an ongoing process which deals not only with physical recovery, but also emotional and spiritual well-being. Regardless of the outcome of her pregnancy test, many relationships have potentially been put in jeopardy: her relationship with her parents and with her boyfriend Tom, Tom's relationship with his family, and perhaps their relationships with others in the church.

There may also need to be healing within the congregation itself. They, too, may disagree with the choices Peter and Emilia make. They may be angered or disillusioned by Emilia's situation. They will suffer the pain of loss when Peter dies. The healing of a community may take a great deal of time and shouldn't be dismissed or rushed over.

  * What might healing mean for Peter and his family?

* Are there ways for Peter's family to experience hope and wholeness even if they disagree with Peter's wish to end his life before his illness becomes debilitating?

* As a member of Peter's church school class, how could you be part of this healing process -- with Peter, his family, and the congregation?

* If you were Emilia's youth group leader, how might you help Emilia begin the healing process?

* What do you think about Emilia's own inner-healing; what would that mean?

* What might physical well-being mean in Emilia's case?

  Guiding

  The second function of pastoral care is the ministry of guidance. This is one aspect of pastoral care that is often neglected. Guidance doesn't mean telling people how to live their lives. Guidance means that the church has theological and ethical resources for thinking about life decisions. People turn to the church expecting us to have something meaningful to say in the midst of conflict and confusion. As members of a community of faith, we miss the point when we refuse to offer guidance in ways that are concrete but not intrusive.

Guidance may mean engaging Peter, his family, and the church school class in thinking through issues around life and death, quality of life, individual rights versus family concerns, and how we understand God's will for our lives. In similar ways, guidance for Emilia may mean encouraging her in thoughtful moral discernment around the issues she has before her: if she is pregnant, what are her options and what are the implications of those options? Will she and Tom talk about the consequences of their sexual activity?

The important thing in pastoral care with people facing moral crises is neither to pretend we can be morally neutral nor to pronounce moralisms; rather, it is to discern with people as they engage their life issues. We must not deny our moral stand nor should we insist that others stand where we do.

The most appropriate pastoral guidance offers people the options that lie in front of them, reflects on the consequences of those options, thinks about the faith issues involved, and then remains with people as they make their choices. Be present in their questions and concerns, but don't offer to make the decision for them. Guidance is perhaps one of the most difficult tasks in pastoral care for it requires care-full deliberation and trust in the spirit of a living God who moves beyond our words and actions.

  * Do you agree with Peter's decision or with his family's opposition to it?

* What would offering guidance in Peter's situation mean?

* How could you stand by your moral beliefs and still remain open to both Peter and his family in the process?

* In Emilia's case, what would be the moral stumbling blocks for you in trying to help her deal with her situation?

* What would be involved in offering guidance to Emilia?

* How could you stand by your moral beliefs and still provide Emilia pastoral support and care?

* With either Peter or Emilia, are you in a situation where you couldn't resolve the contradiction between your moral beliefs and their request for your help? Or can you imagine such a situation occurring? What might be the most caring response then?

  Reconciling

  No matter how tenderly and honestly we try to offer guidance, people will inevitably make choices with which we deeply disagree and may even cause us great pain. Finding a way to sit at the table with them in the midst of that pain and disagreement leads us to think about the third function of pastoral care

-- reconciliation.

Reconciliation occurs as people with differences move toward common concerns. This does not mean everyone will end up agreeing with each other. The goal isn't to agree but to remain faithful to the love and grace embodied by the gospel, while at the same time remaining true to what you believe. This requires a mature faith which insists that people can disagree with one another while still standing together. It isn't easy. But for people like Peter and Emilia who turn to us in times of crisis, it can be extremely important.

Remember that Emilia asked you to keep what she discussed with you a secret. Reconciliation at this point might mean being there for Emilia as she begins to talk about her fears over sharing her situation with Tom or her family -- fears that may be well-founded. Likewise, Peter and his family may never agree on the way in which Peter chooses to live into his dying. Perhaps they could find ways to alleviate Peter's physical suffering while mutually engaging in the difficult process of being family together.

There are times when reconciliation means simply finding ways for people who strongly disagree to still pray for each other with a sense of honesty and integrity. The church can model an ability to stand in solidarity with one another while acknowledging the depth of struggle and serious differences over decisions that are made.

  * What if Emilia and Tom, or Emilia and her family, seriously disagree about what she ought to do if she is pregnant? What if instead of supporting her, they turn away from her? Are there ways you might help them move toward honest reconciliation?

* How could you show care for Emilia and those around her in the midst of their struggle and disagreement?

* In Peter's case, what might reconciliation mean for him and the members of his family?

* Are there ways you might help Peter and his family discover and live out of their common concerns?

  Sustaining

  Finally, both case studies illustrate the need for the sustaining ministry of the church. The sustaining power of God can be felt in the presence of a church member who says I'm with you in your suffering and, in my presence, the body of Christ is with you too. It's this sustaining power of the church which we often find creating the most hope in our lives. When one hits rock bottom it's good to know that there's a rock on which you can sit and pour out your heart. How comforting it is to know that the rock has room for the presence of another human being who can offer God's hope and care in the face of despair and confusion.

The church can help people remain stable in the midst of crises by providing a place for people to simply name their thoughts, feelings and fears without having to defend them. Indeed, one of the most important aspects of pastoral care is providing a safe place for people like Peter and Emilia as they articulate the complex realities of their lives. For the church to be an instrument of God's grace, we ourselves must provide the grace-filled spaces for people to express doubts, fears, concerns, and angers. There are few easy answers, yet God does provide the sustaining power to deliberate, pray, and reflect on what it means to be faithful.

After the immediate moment of crisis has passed, we still need to remain present and constant for people as they continue to reflect on its meaning in their lives. It's important that we stay open to those who have experienced a crisis and provide opportunities for ongoing conversation if appropriate. Remember, a decision that may have been made years before can still cause uneasiness in one's soul.

  * How could the church provide stability and sustenance for Peter and Emilia as they move through crisis and struggle with its moral implications?

* What about after their decisions have been made? What kind of needs might Peter and Emilia and those around them have for ongoing pastoral care from the congregation?

 

The Larger Contexts of Pastoral Care

  The moral dilemmas we bump up against in doing pastoral care reflect how individual decisions are often set in the context of broader realities which push us beyond the confines of our church membership. To be the church means to think not only about individuals and their personal crises, but also the way in which these crises affect families and communities, as well as how they may represent broader struggles in the society at large. For example, Peter's decisions aren't merely personal. His life impacts many circles of family and friends and colleagues at work who may be directly or indirectly affected by his decision. In a similar way, it's impossible to consider Emilia's situation as only an individual concern. To do so would be to neglect the reality that her choice -- whatever it becomes -- impacts the lives of her family, her boyfriend Tom, Tom's family, her unborn child if she is pregnant, her schoolmates, her youth group at church and potentially many others whose lives intersect with hers.

Our moral dilemmas also reflect issues the church and broader culture continue to grapple with. For example, both Peter's and Emilia's decisions are related to larger social issues regarding health care: rising health care costs, an individual's right to die, teen pregnancy, safe sex, and abortion. The economic and emotional burdens of caring for someone with a catastrophic illness may place extreme hardship on Peter's family and have lasting consequences for family members. Emilia's choice might be affected by lack of adequate financial support and child care options for her as a teen parent. Thus crises like these often reflect systemic issues of justice and liberation. Caring in a pastoral way about these larger contexts means, in part, exploring the needs of those who are underserved and who lack access to necessary support systems because of race, economic class, gender or sexual orientation. Congregations who take pastoral care seriously as a ministry of the church must come to terms with ways in which they may participate in the liberation and/or the oppression of people and communities.

  Another way moral dilemmas point toward larger issues and contexts is the way they reflect the ever-increasing pluralism of our culture. Inevitably, we come to realize that rarely will every faithful Christian agree on a particular moral or ethical stand. Indeed, even within denominations we're discovering the richness -- and pain -- of our pluralism. For Peter and Emilia, as is often the case, there appear to be fewer right answers and more shades of probable answers. The issue of choosing to take one's own life continues to be debated within all faith communities as do the issues of abortion, pre-marital sex, and teen pregnancy. Moving beyond the churches to the broader society only multiplies the differing perspectives impacting our life choices and decisions.

Pastoral care which is genuine and helpful, then, considers not only individuals in the midst of crises, but also the families and communities they're connected to. Caregivers also consider broader issues in the church and society as they seek to provide pastoral care which embodies not only God's presence, but also God's justice.

  * As you consider the ever-widening circle of people affected by personal crises and decisions, how does your understanding of pastoral care change?

* Would your community offer sufficient resources for Emilia, Tom, Peter and their families as they face these realities? Furthermore, does the community offer sufficient resources for people like them whom you may not know but whose suffering is just as acute?

* When someone comes to you in crisis and pain because of choices they have to make, is there one voice with which the church responds or are there many? How might this affect the ways in which you perform the four functions of pastoral care -- healing, guiding, reconciling, sustaining?

The Church's Ongoing Response

  There are many ways you can participate in the church's ministry of pastoral care. The following are some suggestions that might help you prepare better for that ministry as part of the congregation's ongoing response of care to people in the midst of life-changing decisions and crises.

  Theological Reflection

  The importance of theology cannot be underestimated. Our theological beliefs about the community of faith, the images of God we find meaningful, ethical perspectives based on our understanding of justice and care, and our interpretation of suffering and healing, sin and forgiveness, ground us and guide us in responding to the crises of members of our congregations. The reasons we respond and the ways we respond arise out of our theology. It is just not possible for the church to engage in adequate pastoral care without a solid theological framework.

One of the most helpful ways a congregation can engage in pastoral care is by studying issues that might create moral dilemmas before they are brought to the church in the form of real, live, human beings. The church can be the place of theological and moral discourse so that we're not as easily caught off guard and can attend more care-fully to people in the midst of struggle. We must always remember that we may change our position over time and still remain faithful.

  * Where is God in the lives of Peter and Emilia? * In Peter's case, what would be some of the theological questions he might ask or you might want to ask with him? How could you explore them together or with the rest of the church school class?

* Emilia might be struggling with issues of shame or regret, sin and forgiveness: What theological words or concepts might speak to her in her situation?

* How might your previous understanding of theological words and concepts change in the midst of offering care to Peter and Emilia?

* How might their situation affect your understanding of God's presence in your life?

  Identify Church Resources

  People in the congregation who have had similar experiences may be called upon to help people through the process of making a difficult decision or surviving a crisis. Experience is a wonderful helpmate. You can begin by personally contacting someone you think would be particularly sympathetic and explain the situation to them. Always make sure that you respect the confidentiality of all parties involved when seeking out resource people within the church. They may be willing to meet with others, to suggest options, or to talk with you about how you can be most helpful.

There are also professional people in the congregation who can share their expertise. Identify social workers, doctors, lawyers, and others in the church who may offer professional guidance to church members in crisis. However, once again, do this with care as people have the right to expect confidentiality at all times.

It might be a good idea to identify and contact resource people in advance of an actual crisis situation and keep a list available of those who express their willingness to help. Using congregation members as resources in this way is not only extremely beneficial, but also reflects the importance of the community of faith as the family of God.

  Locate Community Resources

  Locate those agencies within the community that are able to provide resources to people facing a particular crisis. Make sure that the phone numbers and addresses of the mental health center, the domestic violence shelter, the crisis line, hospice, or other such community resources are available and accessible to all within the church. Sometimes posting them on the bulletin board or in some other prominent place gives people the necessary information. This is especially useful for those who are facing a crisis and haven't yet decided with whom they want to share their situation. They might reach out to a community resource before talking with anyone in the congregation. Having these resources easily accessible signals people that the church is willing to be involved in caring for them and for the broader community.

  Worship and Prayer

  Worship and prayer are tremendous untapped resources for raising people's awareness of the various issues people are struggling with and for offering care in a nonintrusive manner. Keep the prayers and announcements general and never inappropriately disclose a person's name. For instance, the congregation might pray for anonymous victims of domestic violence, for those trying to make difficult decisions in their life, for family members who are disagreeing with one another, and for those members of the congregation touched by the hurt or despair of others. Allow the worship spaces of the church's life to speak to the pains and burdens people carry.

  * Who and what are some of the resources in your church and community? How might they be shared with others?

* How can a process of theological and ethical reflection begin or continue to take place in your congregation on an ongoing basis?

* Who can take responsibility for raising awareness of congregational pastoral care through worship and prayer? How might this be done?

* Do you have other ideas?

* What kind of further help or information do you need?

 

It's not always easy to care for and be with others in the midst of the complex, confusing circumstances of contemporary life. Perhaps the process of reflection you've experienced through this study has led you to some new ideas and resources.

  Now I leave you with a brief prayer of my own:

  May the knowledge of God's love and care be within us in such a way that we naturally reflect that love and care to others.

 

Suggestions for Further Reading

 

If you're interested in reading more about the four functions of pastoral care, see William Clebsch and Charles Jaekle, Pastoral Care in Historical Perspective (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1964). And to learn more about the connection between individual care and larger social issues see Larry Graham, Care of Persons, Care of Worlds (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1997).

Everyday Theology

We approach this study with a basic assumption: that being religious is being human. When people believe in God, pray before the wailing wall in Jerusalem, struggle to escape the cycles of existence, handle poisonous snakes, join religious orders, or spend their time pondering so-called religious questions, they are doing something characteristically human.

That may not sound like a very radical place to start. But from that assumption we want to suggest something further which might surprise you: thinking theologically is also a normal human activity. In fact, it is probably something you do on a daily basis. Of course, you may not be aware when you are doing it. And like most human activities, the ability to do it well improves with practice. Our theological muscles grow stronger when we stretch and exercise them.

Think of the following reflection, then, as a theological workout, which will help you identify what theology is, why it is important and how it is done. While we firmly believe that, as a thinking religious person, you engage in this quite normal human activity all the time, we hope this study will enable you to do theology more deliberately and effectively in the future, thereby deepening your faith and enriching your religious life.

 The Place of Theology in Life

  Amy had been going through a rough time for months. She was stuck in a dead-end job. She and her husband fought constantly, especially over money. Her father's health was failing, but he was too proud to ask for help. "I'm able to cope just living day to day," she told her best friend, Helen, at lunch. "But I feel so dead inside. Nothing seems fun or worthwhile. Friends at church say God will get me through, trust in God, pray to God. That only makes it worse. I don't even believe in God anymore." She paused, considering what she had just said. "Oh, that's not what I really mean. It's just that sometimes God feels so far away. Do you think there's something wrong with me?"

Amy has begun the task of doing theology. She is reflecting on her faith, what it means to her, how it fits with everything else she is experiencing in life, whether or not it works. Embedded in her brief conversation are a series of very human questions which give rise to theological thinking. Who is God? How is God relating to me? Is there a purpose for my suffering? Am I allowed to question or get angry at God? If I were a better Christian, would I have a better life?

In this sense, theology is not necessarily using language that we think of as religious or Christian. It is addressing issues that we could simply classify as human issues. These are not simply Sunday morning questions. They are the ones which wake us up in the middle of the night or interrupt an otherwise ordinary workday.

What is theology?

 

We can describe the task of theology as (1) an effort to gain a coherent and comprehensive understanding of ourselves and our worlds, (2) in relation to what is most valuable or fundamental, (3) in order to live life well. Of course, the process of theological thinking never starts here exactly. We seldom ask first about what is coherent, comprehensive or fundamental. We ask why life is the way it is, often because it is not the way we wanted or expected it to be.

Problems arise, however, because the religious tradition we inherited consists of someone else's answers to someone else's questions. It might have been better if none of us had ever heard any theological concepts until we had lived long enough to discover the need of them. But most of us got religion along with our first plate of solid food. We certainly didn't have time to experience the questions ourselves before we were already being told the answers.

There's often something irritating about having to wade through someone else's answers, especially when they have been presented to us with so much spiritual reverence and ceremony. And the chance that these answers will exactly suit us is almost nil, which is even more irritating. However, the chance that we can learn nothing at all from these inherited answers is also almost nil.

But if theological answers originated in someone else's real life, the first thing we need to know about them is not, are these answers true? It is, what did these answers do? What real human dilemmas did they address, how did they address them, and what were the consequences?

Theology and faith

Mike realized he was just going through the motions when he went to church every Sunday. It had been part of his upbringing and he found it hard to leave. But try as he might, he wasn't able to follow in his parents' footsteps and embrace wholeheartedly what the church was telling him. Too many things didn't jibe with his experience, and sometimes it seemed as if the Bible said one thing, his friends something else, and his pastor something else again. He wanted to believe, but he didn't know where to begin. Was he a Christian or not? And how could he tell?

Although Mike is unable at this point to state clearly what he does and does not believe, he is nevertheless thinking theologically. He is asking questions about the nature of faith, about certitude and doubt, about the pluralism of ideas expressed in the Bible and church tradition. He is reflecting on the nature of authority -- where does it come from, who do we trust, on what do we base our beliefs?

Thinking theologically is not the same as having religious beliefs, or expressing them, even with great conviction. "I believe in God the creator of heaven and earth" is not a theological statement. Rather, theology means trying to understand what you believe and why.

So there is a difference between theology and faith, between doing theology and being religious. Thinking theologically is certainly one of the ways people have of being religious. But it is not the only or even the most important way.

Look at everything else that is a part of religion -- rituals in thousands of forms and dozens of types; religious pilgrimages to Mecca, to Lourdes, or to the camp meeting in the next county; artistic symbols from Sallman's head of Christ to the rose window at Chartes Cathedral, from Muslim temples to statues of Buddha to Amish furniture. There are the stories told by parents to virtually every child who reaches the age of three. And, of course, there is a wide variety of religious experience -- through meditation, worship, prayer, service and community gatherings.

Now ask yourself: what do most religious people spend most of their religious time doing? The answer is not "thinking theologically." This is why we call theology a second order discipline. It is dependent on something else -- questions of ultimate meaning, the life of faith, religious beliefs and practices, or Christian existence.

Theology, then, is rational reflection on our beliefs. It involves being prepared to give reasons for our faith, as the New Testament says. "I think it is wonderful (or awful) to believe in God the creator" is a reflective statement, but it is not a reason. "My parents taught me to believe in God the creator" is an explanation or a cause, but still not a reason. To ask for reasons is to ask for justification that one is entitled to hold this belief. In addition, theology expects us to give reasons for our faith that are open to public discussion.

What kinds of reasons generally count as adequate for justifying a particular religious belief? There are three good places to start. First of all, is this particular belief consistent with other beliefs we hold? Second, does it help make sense of our lives and our world, as well as the experiences of others? Third, does holding this belief have beneficial consequences while denying it would be harmful? In this way, we examine both what a particular belief means and what it does.

 The importance of theology

  It would be much easier to just state our convictions and leave it at that. Why bother with theology anyway?

But religious beliefs are too powerfully rich to be ignored, and they are likewise too dangerous to be left alone. Christianity, for example, has generated both virtues and vices, healing and oppression, life and death. Christian beliefs were used to justify slavery, burn women for witchcraft, persecute Jews and rob Native Americans of their lands. But Christian beliefs also bear enormous possibilities for good. They have empowered black people to stand up against slavery and prejudice in this country. They have given us the concept of a God who suffers with us and a vision of the church as a community of all people and nations. Thus religious beliefs and practices must be critically examined and re-examined both for their dangers and their positive potentials.

Theology carries out this task in three ways. First of all it asks, what do these beliefs and practices mean, in themselves and in relation to each other. What does it mean to believe in God? to follow Jesus? to confess our sin and hope for salvation? And what do God, Jesus, sin and salvation have to do with each other? How are their meanings interwoven?

Second it asks, what do these beliefs and practices do? What difference do they make? What effects do they have? Until recently, we always spoke as if God were male. Many women objected, arguing that this made them less than fully acceptable in God's sight. They were pointing out that our beliefs have consequences -- some good and some bad -- and we need to be aware of them.

Third, as theologians, we must also evaluate our beliefs and practices, asking whether they are appropriate and justified, according to various criteria. This is one of our most difficult tasks because not everyone agrees on the standards for evaluation. For instance, some men and women have decided that speaking of God in solely male terms should be discontinued because of its exclusionary effect. Other men and women disagree based on different criteria, such as compliance with scripture or church tradition. Difficult or not, however, evaluation is one of the tasks we take on when we begin thinking theologically.

 Theological Exercises

  The rest of this study is designed to give you a theological workout. You will have the chance to consider a series of human questions which give rise to theological thinking. You will learn to look behind both the questions and the resources Christianity gives for answering them, so that you can better understand and evaluate your own religious beliefs in relation to those of the tradition you have inherited or adopted. You will practice giving reasons for your faith.

Each of the theological exercises will consist of the following steps:

  * It will begin with a question.

* You will look at some of the resources Christianity has provided to answer this question.

You will have the opportunity to suggest other options in the Christian tradition (or even from other sources) which also provide answers to this question.

* You will identify the answer which best suits you and give reasons why you are inclined to hold this belief. Your own personal experience will be an important source for discovering these reasons, but also remember that you should be able to show how this belief (1) fits together with other things you believe, (2) helps make sense of life (for yourself and in general), and (3) has beneficial consequences.

* Then you will be asked to imaginatively consider why others might choose a different answer from among the options identified. What purpose might this belief serve for them? What reasons might they give for holding this belief rather than another?

Finally, you will explore the weaknesses, disadvantages, or possible harmful effects of each option identified, including the one you selected. Becoming aware of the potential dangers in any belief, including those we hold dear, does not necessarily mean we must abandon that belief, but does enable us to be on guard against its distortion and misuse. It also calls us to constantly reevaluate and refine our beliefs so that they better reflect what we mean and better serve the function they were intended to serve.

Who is God? ...

For Christianity, as for other monotheistic religions, the nature of God is of primary importance. Of course, there is a prior question -- does God really exist? -- which has occupied theologians and philosophers for centuries. We can also approach the question this way: what does it mean to believe in God? Here we are asking about the function of God-talk, the difference it makes to believe that there is something or someone called God. Today, this question also raises questions about religion in a modern world. How does believing in God fit into a scientific or secular worldview which seemingly has no place for God's existence. We see how even a simple question has a variety of often complicated questions embedded in it. Also, the same question can be asked in a variety of ways.

Here we are going approach this question by asking, what is God like? -- that is, what are the attributes or qualities of God? As with virtually every important theological question, Christians have offered a variety of answers. These are some you might be familiar with:

(1) God is a person. Though God far surpasses any person we have ever met, still the most valid and valuable way of talking about God is in personal terms: father, mother, friend, companion. Many things in the Bible reflect this image of God, especially the confession that the person of Jesus is somehow a perfect expression of who God is.

(2) God is mystery. God is ultimately indescribable and incomprehensible, far beyond our feeble attempts to know and relate to God. There are also many biblical passages which reflect this understanding, particularly when God appears to Moses as a burning bush.

(3) God is a force or power which moves the universe toward order or goodness. The creation stories in Genesis reflect something of this understanding, as does the Gospel of John when it refers to the "logos," the divine Word which binds and directs the universe.

* These are three ways Christianity has answered the question about the nature of God. Can you think of other options -- from scripture, church tradition, or other sources -- for describing who or what God is?

* Which of options identified come closest to your own beliefs about God? Why? In responding, reflect on your personal experience. For instance, what or who do you imagine when you worship, pray or think about God? Where did this image come from? Then give reasons to justify continuing to hold this belief.

* Imagine why someone else might select one of the other options above as their understanding of God. What experiences might give rise to that image? What reasons might they give for justifying their belief? In responding, think about both the meaning and the purpose of each option.

For example, talking about God in personal terms features God's accessibility to us. It emphasizes God's love, and supports a strong notion of community. Talking about God as mystery, on the other hand, stresses God's holiness and otherness, leading us to respond with awe and wonder, as well as an appropriate humility about our beliefs.

A single image for God can lead in many directions, however. Two people may share the same basic image, but give very different reasons for justifying it. Understanding God as a force which creates and orders the universe, for instance, may invite a notion of God as all-powerful and in control. But it may just as well see God as the primary force among many other forces in the universe, working through cooperation and persuasion.

* Examine the dangers and drawbacks of all the images for God you have been considering, including your own. What are their limitations? How might their effects be harmful rather than beneficial? How would you revise your own belief in light of this?

Understanding God as a person, for example, can lead to idolatry. We all tend to visualize the concept of "personhood" in our own image. Does this tempt us to picture God as either male or female, white or black, young or old? Thinking of God as mystery may so emphasize our inability to know God that we simply give up trying to say anything meaningful about God at all. And while imagining God as a universal force protects us from the dangers of making God over in our own image, it tends to make God so impersonal that it is hard to know how God might relate to us as flesh and blood human beings.

Will things ever get better? ...

While religion often functions on an everyday level to sustain and enrich our ordinary lives, some of our most pointed questions arise when things do not go the way we expected and the blessed ordinariness of life is interrupted by death, disease, or despair. Some of us, on the other hand, may experience every day as filled with hardship. We wonder whether that is all we will ever know.

This raises the very human question of hope. Will the future be any different from the present? What can we hope for? It also leads us to question the real possibilities for change and transformation. Does what we do make a difference? Is it up to us alone? We must also ask about the kind of change or transformation we are hoping for. What does "better" mean anyway?

Jesus' life and ministry took place during a time of intense longing for a better world. His people, the Jews, had long been oppressed by Roman rule and were often persecuted for their religious faith and practices. Jesus preached the good news that a change was coming: the kingdom of God was at hand. The early church, formed in the hope which blossomed after his resurrection, lived in the expectation that Jesus would return any day to fulfill this good news. Years passed, however, without his return, so his followers were forced to reinterpret his message.

What developed is the Christian doctrine of eschatology. The word "eschaton" means "end times" or "last things," but it has never simply involved concern for a far-off future, because, as Jesus and his followers realized, what we believe about the future dramatically affects how we live in the present.

Christianity has provided a number of options for talking about the future and our hope for a better life, among them the following:

(1) We are working together with God in history toward the transformation of the world;

(2) The transformation of the world will come in history, but it will be entirely God's doing, in a manner and at a time of God's choosing.

(3) There can be no real progress toward a better world within the context of this life and human history because they are wholly bound up in sin. Rather, we place our hope for transformation in another realm, generally after death, and rely on God's grace.

* In reflecting on the three options above, can you think of stories or passages in the Bible which support each way of answering the question about hope? What are some other ways of answering the same question from within the Christian tradition or from other sources? For instance, the "American Dream" is partly a set of beliefs about hope for a better life here and now. And in contrast to Christianity, religions such as Buddhism or Hinduism believe existence is an endless cycle of rebirth; true change comes only with enlightenment and escape from the cycle.

* Which of the options identified comes closest to your own beliefs about the future? Which answer best functions to give you real hope? In what ways? In giving reasons why you hold these beliefs about the future, you might describe how they are connected to your attitudes and actions in the present.

* What reasons might someone give for selecting one of the other options as cause for hope? Here you might reflect on the assumptions which underlie each option. For instance, does it assume an optimistic or pessimistic view of human nature? What is its view of history and of human activity? What does it assume about the nature of God and the way God relates to the world? (Here you have the opportunity to explore how the answer to this question relates to the first question about who God is.)

* What are the dangers and drawbacks inherent in each option? What negative results might it bring about? For example, the first option -- that we are working together with God to create a better world -- may not take seriously the limits of human knowledge and compassion. It may, ironically enough, lead to despair because we are thrown too much upon our own resources. Yet the second and third options might lead to inaction and indifference. Since God alone is able to bring about a better future, why bother working for positive change here and now?

What other drawbacks can you think of in the various options identified? How might these dangers be guarded against? What changes might you make to the option you selected now that you have examined some of its limitations?

I get as much out of a hike in the mountains as going to church on Sunday. What's wrong with that? ...

There are several questions embedded here. On one level, it is asking, what must I do to be a good Christian? What does my faith require of me? Or, even more basically, what is the nature of faith? On another level, it is asking about the relationships between God and the natural world, between God and the church. Can I encounter and know God through nature? Is God's revelation in nature the same as God's revelation in the church (or in scripture)? There is obviously a difference between experiencing God in the solitude of nature and in the community of the church. What difference does that difference make?

Christian theology has usually affirmed that the natural world, because it was created by God, in some sense truly reveals God as well. However, it has also insisted that this is a kind of general revelation, while Jesus Christ, scripture and the church reveal God's nature and intent in a special way. Yet the balance between this general and special revelation varies depending upon the particular strand of tradition. Sometimes the difference between them is quite significant; other times they are much more along a continuum. So here we see a range of options laid out before us on just this aspect of the question.

Regarding the church in particular, Christian tradition has provided several options for understanding what it is, how it works, and why it is important. The name for this is "ecclesiology," a theology of the church.

(1) The church is the gathering of the faithful, the communion of saints. It is the place where those who are saved, or in whom God's redemptive work has already taken place, come together.

(2) The church is the repository of God's truth. It is the place where salvation can be found.

(3) The church is the locus of God's activity which, then, through the church, spreads out into the world.

(4) The church is a community of people who seek to discern and support God's activity in the world, wherever it occurs.

By now you have worked with these theological exercises enough to get the hang of it, so you should feel free to explore options available in response to any of the ways of approaching the question above. You may wish to pursue the relationship between God and the natural world, or the meaning and purpose of distinctions like general and special revelation and whether they are still appropriate, or your understanding of the church.

Whichever direction you proceed, remember to cover the following steps:

*Identify the various options for answering the question, including any you can think of which are not listed above.

*Select the option closest to your beliefs and give reasons why you hold this belief. How does it fit with other beliefs you hold? How does it help you make sense of life? What beneficial consequences does it offer?

*Imagine why someone else might hold a different belief from among these options. What would it mean to them? What purpose might it serve? How would they justify it?

*Examine the limitations, drawbacks and dangers of each option, including your own. How might it confuse rather than illuminate the question at hand? What unforeseen problems might it cause?

Here are a couple of considerations you might engage in the process of this exercise:

Some contemporary theologians, in response to the ecological crisis we currently face, deem it crucial that we reevaluate and refine the classic Christian doctrines regarding God's relationship to the natural world and humanity's place within the created order. Many suggest that we highlight God's revelation in nature to a greater extent than before, in this way placing a higher value on the natural world. Does this reasoning strike you as valid? Is it sufficient to warrant making changes in classic doctrine?

You might consider that each of the above options for understanding the nature of the church is partly true and that none of them is completely false. Different churches may embody different visions of who and what the church should be. In what ways does the church you most regularly attend fit with your own understanding of "the church" in a larger sense?

Why can't we just get along? ...

It is difficult sometimes to understand why there is so much contention and strife in the world. We are increasingly alarmed over major social problems such as violence and substance abuse, as well as the general lack of caring and cooperation among people. While we can trace some of the causes behind these problems -- from individual psychological dynamics to economic and political structures -- we are still left wondering: where did we go wrong and how did it ever get to this point? This is the question of the origin and nature of evil. It is also a question about human nature: what are we like and how did we get that way?

One of the most profound, yet perhaps most difficult, insights of the Christian tradition rests in its struggle to understand evil and the relationship between evil and human nature. We see the principal result of this struggle in the classic doctrine of original sin. But this doctrine was not easily arrived at, nor has it ever been uncontroversial. Some of the options for understanding evil which the Christian tradition has wrestled with over the years include the following:

(1) Evil is part of the very nature of existence itself, including human nature. Historically, this understanding was developed by various Gnostic sects who believed that evil was a separate force in the universe alongside and in constant conflict with God. A modern, secular version of this view can be found in certain tragic views of life which assume that evil and suffering is part of the human condition to which there is no ultimate solution.

(2) Evil is not an inherent or necessary part of existence or human nature, but rather a choice, freely exercised at any given moment. In the early centuries of Christian history, the Pelagians advocated this view, arguing that human beings were innately good and could always choose the good if they wanted. The modern, secular version of this view sees evil as a product of human institutions and social structures which can be overcome by human solutions.

(3) Evil is not an inherent or necessary part of existence or human nature (creation was created good), but neither are humans wholly free to choose the good at any given moment. Rather, they have been corrupted in such a way that they invariably tend to choose evil and turn away from God. This is the classic doctrine of the Fall and original sin, formulated by Augustine in the fourth century over against both the Gnostic and the Peglagian views above.

(4) Evil is the result of the ethical and religious "immaturity" of human nature. While human beings were not created perfect, they are perfectible. There was no "Fall" and human nature has not been hopelessly corrupted. Rather it is gradually being perfected with God's help and guidance. This is an option which has been developed more recently, but has roots in certain strands of early Christian theology as well.

*Consider the options presented above and any others you would like to suggest.

*Identify the option which best matches your own understanding of evil and of human nature. Give reasons for your answer.

Here you might begin to justify your selection based on its consistency with the options you have chosen in the previous exercises, in other words, based on how it fits with other beliefs you hold. For instance, what does a belief in the perfectibility of human nature imply about the way future transformation of the world is likely to happen? Likewise, the belief that humans have been wholly corrupted by the Fall has certain implications regarding what we hope for and how we expect it to come about. Each of the options above suggests something different about the nature of God, of the created world, and of God's way of relating to us as well. Beginning to examine how your beliefs do or do not hold together may lead you to modify some of the options you have previously selected and argued for. Don't let that discourage you. You are doing exactly what a reflective Christian is supposed to do.

*Imagine why someone else might choose a different option from among those which have been identified. What life experiences or historical circumstances might lead someone to select that option? What purpose might best be served in each case?

*Examine the weaknesses, drawbacks, or possible harmful effects of each option. Our beliefs about evil and its relationship to human nature can have a dramatic effect on our perception and behavior. What difference might it make in the way you see and treat both yourself and others if you view human nature as inherently evil or inherently good or somewhere in between? What other things might be at stake? Do these considerations lead you to reevaluate or refine the option you selected?

Why doesn't God fix things?...

A great deal of theological time and energy has been expended in trying to resolve the contradictions inherent in our beliefs. While we might want to affirm that life does not always come neatly wrapped in a tidy package, and even admit that faith is not always logical, there are contradictions which pose such a problem that they cannot simply be ignored.

For example, Christians have always believed in God's absolute goodness and love. We have also wanted to say that God is all-knowing and infinitely powerful. These two affirmations come into conflict, however, when we try to make sense of human suffering. If God is good and all-powerful, why does God allow such terrible human suffering to continue? Why not put a stop to it? If God is able to, but does not, then God cannot be good. If God is good, but does not, then God must not be all-powerful. This is known as the problem of theodicy.

Theologians have come up with several options to deal with this apparent contradiction.

1) God's ways are incomprehensible. It is either impossible or inappropriate for us to try to justify God's actions.

2) God is able to end human suffering, but does not because it would interfere with the exercise of our free will.

3) God is able to end human suffering, but does not because God can use suffering to guide and teach us. In other words, God can bring a greater good out of what appears to us as simply evil.

4) Some modern thinkers, especially in light of the death and destruction witnessed in the twentieth century, say that God is not, in fact, absolutely good and loving, thus resolving the contradiction. This view has not found much acceptance among Christian theologians, but it is available as an option.

5) Finally, some theologians affirm God's goodness, but deny that God is all-powerful. God is the most powerful being or force in the universe, but God's power is limited by the power exercised, in varying degrees, by all participants in creation. God is not able, on God's own, to put an end to evil and suffering, but must work in cooperation with the rest of the created order.

*Explore these options, and any others you can think of, following the steps you have been using to work on the previous questions. You may want to refer to the guidelines suggested on page seven.

What am I supposed to be doing with my life?...

While many of the questions we have been dealing with so far occur when we experience suffering, confusion, despair or simply the unexpected vicissitudes of life, this question can arise, and probably most often does, in the midst of life's ordinary routine. We go to work or school everyday, we do what it takes to keep a household running, we share our time with family and friends -- and yet we often wonder, is this what it's about or is there something more? This question has to do with issues of meaning, purpose and personal vocation. We wonder, does God have a plan for my life? What's my place in the scheme of things?

We could explore several dimensions to this question. For one, it asks who we are. What sort of beings are we that we so relentlessly desire and search for God? Or for that matter, what sort of beings are we that God should take an interest in us? Second, it asks what we should do. Once we have answered the question about who we are, we are led to ask what that answer implies about how we should live.

The Christian tradition has generally seen humans as beings created for a special relationship with God. This gives us a kind of in-between status. We are part of the created order like animals, plants, insects and all other creatures. But by virtue of our consciousness, our ability to know right from wrong, our freedom, or some similar quality which distinguishes us from all other creatures, we have a unique place and purpose in God's plan for creation. Like all other doctrines, this one harbors benefits and dangers. Try to identify them when you work through the theological exercises in relation to this question.

In regard to the second part of this question, Christianity has provided several options for discerning why we exist and what we should do.

(1) What we should do is seek to live a good life.

(2) We exist to glorify and worship God.

(3) Our purpose in life is to serve others.

(4) What gives life meaning is to work with God toward the full realization of goodness, order, justice, or some similar ultimate value.

*Reflect on these options, and any others you want to bring in, following the theological exercises outlined on page seven. Remember to give reasons justifying both the option you select and those others might prefer.

Why we do theology this way

Our approach to theology and the Christian tradition may have surprised or even disturbed you. People are not usually taught they have options when it comes to their beliefs. Rather, this or that belief is true and you either accept it or not.

Our vision of Christian theology, however, assumes that the religious traditions we inhabit are not simple and monolithic but complex and multi-faceted. The Bible itself contains many images of God, many ideas about human nature, different ways of understanding suffering and evil, and various ways to envision God's purpose for creation. Over the years, believers have dipped into this deep well of resources for experiencing and expressing Christian faith, adding to it their insights and inspiration, so that the tradition has only become richer and more abundant.

Of course, we cannot choose just any option and still locate ourselves within the Christian tradition. For example, you may consider human beings as more or less good, but you cannot argue that they or any part of creation were created evil without contradicting a fundamental Christian belief. Nor could you claim, for instance, that humans are perfect in every way or equal to God. There are limits. Christianity cannot be just any old thing.

But within these larger parameters, it is okay to think in terms of theological options -- to examine them, to give reasons for or against them, and sometimes to change them. This is all Christian theologians have been doing throughout the centuries, and it is what you as an individual Christian with questions and doubts, ideas and beliefs, do every day of your life.

Good Aging: A Christian Perspective

  From the day we are born (and before) we are aging.

Today we are older than we were yesterday.

Today we are younger than we are going to be tomorrow.

To live well is to age well. To age well is to live well.

What shall we do with our aging?

As a human being in his eighties, I have some deeply personal questions. Perhaps you share them. These questions are: What is it to age well? If adversity, loss and diminishment are inescapable parts of the human experience, how can I weave these things into the pattern of my life? How can I be realistic about the facts of death and still be a person of hope? Can one be realistic about the facts of aging, diminishment and death and still live with a sense of sanctity of existence and reverence for life? What is Christian wisdom on finding meaning in the midst of aging?

I believe that God is present in the experiences not only of joy, growth and becoming, but also in the experiences of loss, adversity, diminishment and death. Whether you are considered young or old, you are, at this moment, aging. Sooner or latter these experiences and the questions they raise will impact your life, if they are not doing so already. Join me in reflecting on these matters, and together perhaps we can see what light the Christian faith sheds on the prospect of good aging.

Good Aging and the Experience of Being Human

Sooner or later we all decide what we are going to be.

What we decide is revealed in our life style.

What shall I be?

A rat in a rat race?

A cog in a machine?

A helpless victim of circumstance?

A collector of tangible things?

Or do I choose to be a human being?

If I decide to be a human being, the questions emerge:

What are the marks of a human being?

What would be involved in AGING WELL as a human being?

In the television series Cosmos, astronomer Carl Sagan presented a "cosmic calendar," compressing the history of the universe into the span of a single year. In this calendar the formation of life would be dated September 25. The first human beings are reported to have appeared December 31, 10:30 p.m. The human species is young--very young.

Young as the human species is, it displays remarkable capacities: to think and reason and imagine; to ask questions and seek answers; to use language, metaphors and symbols; to ponder the mystery of origins; to locate oneself on maps of meaning; to project ideals and seek their realization; to ask how one fits into the most inclusive scheme of things.

Erich Fromm wrote "Man transcends all other life because he is, for the first time, life aware of itself." Jacob Bronowski said "...man is the only one who is not locked into his environment. His imagination, his reason, his emotional subtlety and his toughness make it possible for him not only to accept the environment, but to change it." Conrad Waddington referred to the human person as "the ethicizing animal."

In his last book The Fragile Species, biologist Lewis Thomas wrote that if the human species is to survive, human beings must learn to do three things and to do them well: to connect; to communicate; and to cooperate. The call to a connecting, communicating, cooperating style of life is written into the nature of Nature, according to Thomas.

The human being is capable of violence, destructive activity, selfish behavior. This same human being is also capable of manifesting self-transcending love and the will to serve, maturing in appreciation of the good, the beautiful and the true. The human being is endowed with some capacity for decision. As we seek answers to the question "What is good human aging?," we do well to turn to varied sciences for relevant data.

We also do well to turn to the wisdom of the Christian tradition. There we find such hopeful images of the human creature as a creature bearing the image of God, pilgrim, co-creator, steward, creature with the potentiality for maturing in wisdom, faith, hope and love.

*What are the marks of a truly human being?

*What is a "good aging" for a creature called to be human?

Good Aging from a Christian Perspective

Many attempts have been made to measure "successful" or "good" aging. Most of the attempts at measuring have been made from a medical, psychological or sociological perspective. Some of the attempts at measurement are reported in a book edited by Paul and Margaret Baltes, entitled Successful Aging: Perspectives From The Behavioral Sciences.

This brochure is unique in its attempt to address the experience of aging in the context of an essentially religious/faith orientation. Erich Fromm has affirmed that "there is no one without a need to have a frame of orientation and devotion." Historian Peter Gay has written "Every human being acts in his world in obedience to the portrait he has made of it." The experience of aging comes to mean different things to different persons depending on the portrait or frame of orientation in the light of which they perceive the processes of aging. Here we propose to discuss "good aging" in the framework of a Christian portrait of reality.

In a book Those Of The Way, Willard Sperry points out that the New Testament makes almost no use of the word "Christian." It occurs only three times in the New Testament. Dean Sperry writes:

The earliest disciples seem to have thought and spoken of themselves as members or followers of a distinctive 'way' of life. What is religion? It is a way. What is Christianity? It is a way. Who and what is Christ? He is the Way.

We recall that in writing to the Corinthians, Paul said "I will show you still a more excellent way." A famous anthropologist said "There is no substitute for raw data." The person who would know about Christianity in our own time might well turn to the raw data of how Christians live their lives. What quality of life do authentic Christians seek and profess and display?

Jesus advocated and displayed a quality of life manifesting love of God, love of neighbor, and love of self. He exalted a way of life inspired by the quest for the Kingdom of God.

Paul cited love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control as "fruits of the Spirit." He said "Let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ." In calling Corinthians to be the Body of Christ, he said the marks of this body are faith, hope and love.

Tertullian, who lived from about 160 to 220, wrote of the Christians "it is our care of the helpless, our practice of loving kindness, that brands us in the eyes of many of our opponents. 'Only look' they say. 'Look how they love one another...Look how they are prepared to die for one another.'"

In the 16th century, Martin Luther engaged in both protest and profession. In the process, he articulated basic principles of the Protestant movement. He spoke eloquently of the freedom, love and joy of the true Christian.

In the 18th century, John Wesley claimed love to be the greatest of Christian virtues. He spoke of being perfected in love. Theologians have referred to his message as a message of sanctification--being rendered holy. According to Wesley, a loving quality of life reveals more of authentic Christianity than any spoken creed.

In the 20th century, distinguished interpreters of Christian faith such as Schweitzer, Barth, Brunner, the Niebuhrs, Rauschenbusch and Bonhoeffer have put their thought in the form of ethics. Bonhoeffer called for a "costly grace" which involves "taking one's life in one's stride, with all of its duties and problems..." Schweitzer insisted that "the essential element in Christianity, as it was preached by Jesus, is...that it is only through love that we can attain communion with God." When asked why he went to Lambarene, Schweitzer said "I wanted my life to be my argument."

*How would you describe the Christian quality of life?

*What does your answer suggest about good aging from a Christian perspective?

Good Aging and the Experience of Adversity

To be human is to experience adversity.

Ian McLaren said "Be kind to every person you meet. He or she is having a hard time." Henry Thoreau wrote "The mass of human beings lead lives of quiet desperation." The author of the book of Job affirmed that "Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward." Alfred North Whitehead wrote "The deepest definition of youth is life as yet untouched by tragedy." Adversity is an inescapable fact of life.

Some persons are inwardly defeated by adversity. Some are embittered by it. Others respond in more positive ways. Instead of saying "Why me?," they may say "Why not me?" Some persons refuse to be inwardly defeated by misfortune. Some display good morale, morale being defined as fighting power and staying power, the perpetual ability to come back. Some persons learn and actually grow through adversity.

Arnold Toynbee said:

The matter in which there might be spiritual progress in time on a time span extending over many generations of life on earth is...the opportunity open to souls by way of the learning that comes through suffering, for getting into closer communication with God during their brief passage through this world.

Mature religious faith does not guarantee happy outcomes nor exemption from danger and accidents. It does affirm a basic integrity at the heart of things. It does affirm that all is not vanity in the universe, whatever the appearances may suggest.

E. Stanley Jones said that Jesus' teaching is "that we are to take up pain, calamity, injustice, persecution--admit them into the purpose of our lives, and make them contribute to higher ends--the ends for which we really live."

In writing to the Romans, Paul said "...we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope."

Good aging manifests itself a spirit which rises above external circumstances, praying for the grace not simply to endure what must be endured, but for the grace to move through adversity to a deepening of spirit and the will to reach out to others in need.

*How can adversity be a factor in spiritual growth?

*In what ways might good aging include learning through adversity? If so, how?

*How is Christian faith a possible resource in adversity?

Good Aging: Hallowing the Every Day

We are given the gift of life one day at a time.

The glory of a life well-lived is the glory of single days well-lived.

In the Book of Psalms we read "So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom." "This is the day which the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it." Each day is a life in miniature.

Martin Buber wrote: "God speaks to a person through the life He gives him again and again. Therefore, a person can only answer God with the whole of life--with the way in which he lives his given life. There is no human share of holiness without the hallowing of the every day." Yes, every day is a life in miniature.

There are days in which we have heavy burdens to bear. There are "ordinary" days in which we have the usual duties to perform. There are "memorable" days. Each day is what it is--a day to be lived, a day for good aging.

About three hundred years ago there lived in France a man named Nicholas Herman. He had no formal education. The first half of his adult life was spent in military service and in household work. In mid-life, he entered a monastery as a lay brother. He was assigned to work in the kitchen. As time passed, others in the monastery discerned that there was something special about this man. He was given the name Brother Lawrence. He once said:

The time of business does not with me differ from the time of prayer. And in the noise and clatter of the kitchen, while several persons are at the same time calling for different things, I possess God in as great tranquility as if I were on my knees at the blessed sacrament.

From his life came the devotional classic The Practice Of The Presence of God. He aged well, discerning the holy in the commonplace, on ordinary days.

In his essay "Experience," Emerson spoke of the fact that many ordinary days seem uneventful, lacking any particular significance. However, Emerson said, a long view sometimes reveals that significant and cumulative things have been happening in those ordinary days. Ordinary days sometimes contribute to something of lasting meaning. Emerson said "The years teach much which the days never know." Emerson believed that a part of the art of aging well is living each day with integrity and with the will to hallow each day. Could there be a divine reality at work in the events of a single day, bringing significance out of what seem to be ordinary events? Good aging is experienced day by day, hour by hour.

*Reflect on someone you know whose good aging is a quiet, day-by-day matter. How would you describe their way of being human or their quality of life? What qualities and behaviors which you see in them would you like to emulate in your own life?

Good Aging and the Experience of Diminishment

Grow old along with me

The best is yet to be

The last of life for which the first was made

The times are in His hand

Who saith 'A whole I planned

Youth shows but half...trust God, see all

Nor be afraid.'

Many persons would disagree with the claim of Robert Browning that the last of life is the best part of life. There are those who would point to the facts of physical and psychological diminishment in the later years of life. Waning of energy and strength, the loneliness of being cut off from long-held ties, the feeling of being left out, often attend the later years.

Persons respond to the experience of diminishment in a variety of ways. Some become embittered or withdrawn. Some adopt a lonely way of life, doing little or nothing to encourage relationships.

On the other hand, there are those who believe that even in the midst of new limitations, there is the possibility of a quality of life well worth experiencing. When John Quincy Adams was well past the usual span of life, a young friend met him on the street and asked "How is John Quincy Adams today?" Adams replied:

John Quincy Adams is very well, thank you. But the house he lives in is sadly dilapidated. It is tottering on its foundations. The walls are badly shattered and the roof is worn. The building trembles with every wind, and I think John Quincy Adams will have to move out before long. But he himself is very well, thank you.

Probably many of us know persons in their 80's and 90's who wake up in the morning anticipating what a new day may bring. Many persons dignify their later years savoring treasured memories, finding joy in reflecting on their life journey, experiencing "intrinsic values" such as reading, contemplating beauty, keeping up with world events, reaching out to other persons through notes and calls, engaging in volunteer work, engaging in learning opportunities. Norman Cousins said that death is not the greatest tragedy which can befall a person; rather, the tragedy is in what dies in a person while he or she is alive. It was Cousins who said in his later years "I'm like a quarterback on the run, trying to get rid of the ball before I'm taken down."

Christianity offers a vision of the life cycle as ordained of God, inviting persons to a sense of sanctity in existence and reverence for life. Through all the chapters of life, human beings are linked with God. Thus the scriptures affirm:

Nothing shall separate us from the love of God.

As your days so shall your strength be.

My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

Christian faith affirms that growth and diminishment are both part of the divine order. Both can be lived to the glory of God. Aging is considered in a complete "life and death cycle" perspective. Good aging includes the affirmation of life expressed by Robert Browning: "Let me taste the whole of it."

*Reflect on someone you know who demonstrates good aging and good quality of life in the midst of diminishment. How do you or could you embody those qualities and behaviors in your own life?

Good Aging and the Affirmation of Death

In his book The Lives Of A Cell, biologist Lewis Thomas speaks of the important role death plays in the natural order. On-going life requires death. Death is not simply something to be accepted; it is a reality to be affirmed. Death is a price of on-going life.

Death often appears to be the great enemy. To lose a loved one and to face the inevitability of one's own death are often very difficult. Persons sometimes resort to denial and evasion in relation to dying and death. Yet the fact is that good aging involves weaving death into the pattern of one's life.

It is claimed by some religious persons that death is the consequence of human sin. That is not the teaching of mature Christian faith. Paul spoke of those who "have a zeal for God but are not enlightened." Christians living in the 20th and 21st centuries are called to live in the light of modern world views. Human beings are embedded in nature, and in nature, life and death are inter-connected. Good aging involves living in harmony with the great natural themes of evolution, becoming, and the interplay of life and death.

Good aging involves recognizing that every mature person has the opportunity, as well as the need, to decide what his/her attitude toward death will be. Doris Havice expressed her decision in these words:

There are three responses which mortals can make in regard to death: to deny it, to accept it as an unpleasant but inevitable fact, or to affirm it not only as inevitable, but also as a valid and joyous part of the natural process of which birth, living and death are equally important. I favor the third position.

One may regret and deeply mourn a particular death while at the same time affirming the need for death in the natural order.

In his book Thoughts On Death And Life, philosopher William Ernest Hocking wrote these thought-provoking words:

If new generations are to come, the old must pass. Death renders it unnecessary to be forever educating old people to new ways.

The fact that life has a time limit allows it to have shape and character. Not until we realize that our life span is limited, do we appreciate its worth.

Two Christian writers have composed prayers which reflect the faith that God can be discerned in death, and that dying can be a passing of the trust of life to another generation. George Matheson wrote this prayer-hymn:

O Love that wilt not let me go

I rest my weary soul in Thee;

I give Thee back the life I owe

That in Thine ocean depths

Its flow may richer, fuller be.

Pierre Teilhard de Chardin offered this prayer:

Bring me to a serene acceptance of that final phase of communion with you, in which I shall attain to possession of you by diminishing within you....to receive communion as I die is not sufficient; teach me to make a communion of death itself.

*It has been said that ours is a death-denying, death-defying culture. What do you think that means and how do you feel about it?

*How can the affirmation of death be woven into a Christian pattern of life and aging?

Good Aging and the Experience of Grief

Grief is the price of love.

During our journey through life, we experience many endings, partings, separations and losses. Perhaps these might be called "little deaths." We can learn much about good aging through the experience of these little deaths. But there is something different and distinctively deep in a last farewell. Life will never be the same again.

In the death of someone we have loved, something of ourselves dies too. Love is a relationship; in death, that relationship is changed but is not terminated. There are memories which bless. There are healing resources available to us.

Grief has its work to do. Through grief, feelings can and should be expressed. Through grief, a measure of perspective can be achieved. Through grief, healing processes begin to work in and through us.

Multitudes of human beings have experienced grief and are experiencing grief. Some of them have a measure of wisdom to share with us.

Helen Keller said that if a person has friends and faith, he or she can stand anything. In the midst of grief, it is well to give thanks for friends and to recall words of faith.

There are words of faith which have stood the test of time, reassuring persons in the heights and depths of human experience:

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I fear no evil, for Thou art with me.

I am sure that neither death nor life, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God.

Out of the heart of grief there may come a deeper inwardness, a kindlier awareness of the needs of others, thoughts and feelings which lie too deep for words but enrich the quality of our lives, a profounder sense of the reality and love of God, a heightened awareness of the wonder of life.

Reflecting on the death of someone he loved, Robert Browning wrote "Death has done all death can." There are some things death cannot do. There are some things death cannot take away. There are memories. There are tomorrows. There is prayer.

I walked a mile with Pleasure

She chattered all the way,

But left me none the wiser

For all she had to say.

 

I walked a mile with Sorrow

And ne'er a word said she,

But oh, the things I learned from her

When Sorrow walked with me.

*Reflect on your experiences of grief -- whether because of "little deaths" or the loss of someone very close to you. What work has grief done in your life? How has it affected your perspective on aging?

Good Aging and the Christian Quality of Life

The next frontier, if we wish to avoid destruction, lies in the quest for Quality of Life. Great discoveries may be possible in the far reaches of space, but they may also be in the far reaches of whole complex systems. There may be challenges in the depths of the ocean, but there are still greater challenges in the depth of the human soul.

Donella H. Meadows

Good aging is a quest for greater quality of life in the midst of the natural cycles of life and death, growth and diminishment, love and loss, joy and grief. Good Christian aging is a matter of maturing in a Christian quality of life which affirms the sanctity of existence and the continuing love of God in the midst of adversity, diminishment and even death.

All life is a matter of aging, from beginning to end. In reflecting on these themes, I have invited you to join me on a life journey of good aging -- a journey which, no matter how old or young you are today, can begin afresh right now.

Growing Through Conflict

Most of us don't like conflict. We usually find it perplexing, stressful and even downright destructive. So we tend to avoid conflict whenever possible.

Yet I believe that conflict is not just inevitable but also indispensable -- a uniquely valuable component of our personal and organizational lives. Without it, we lose our ability to hear new ideas and work together toward creative solutions.

After having spent time with many different churches and church groups on conflict resolution, I have come to some conclusions which might surprise you:

The problem is not the problem.

I am the source of most conflict I experience.

Without conflict, no change or growth ever occurs.

But if conflict is necessary for individual and organizational development, we must learn how to use it effectively instead of avoiding it.

In the following reflection, I share some of what I have learned about turning destructive conflict into a constructive experience for change and growth.

Without conflict, no change or growth ever occurs

We all know the symptoms of conflict in the church, even if we would rather pretend it doesn't exist. There is internal division, an "us" versus "them" mentality, with increased but often unfocused feelings of anxiety, anger, mistrust, and fear. This results in long unproductive meetings, accusations and decisions made in secret, gradually decreasing attendance, loss of income and even membership. Nobody likes being in the midst of conflict. But church conflict seems especially difficult.

We shouldn't be surprised, however. Conflict is sharpest where bonds are strong and encompass the whole person. This is keenly evident in the church with its standard of commitment to a life's belief system. What makes matters worse is that the church as a closely-knit group tends to suppress conflict, rather than dealing with it head-on. This may keep the peace, but only on the surface and only temporarily. It's like a delayed fuse on a bomb. The conflict that finally erupts will not just deal with the immediate issue. It also must deal with the accumulation of hurt and angry feelings long denied. For this reason, we often find that the closer the group, the more intense the conflict.

What the suppression of conflict does do is preserve the image of the church as a loving community united in God's service. Such myths keep the church from effectively utilizing conflict for growth. There are others, for instance:

- conflict is bad because it threatens the unity of the church

- a loving person is always tranquil, stable and serene

- the administration, worship and programs of the church are fixed and established thus not subject to change

- individuals and the church as whole should be "spiritual" -- that is, should be "above" conflict.

 

But real growth demands creativity and risk. We are never moved to change unless we allow our beliefs and behaviors to be challenged. The suppression of conflict, on the other hand, leads to stagnation and conformity. So while the Christian community should be an ideal place for growth, it often erects a barrier to growth by avoiding or denying conflict at all costs.

The church has much to gain from the effective use of conflict. The conflict will be there. The question is, how will we choose to handle it? Conflict can alienate and block effective work or it can clarify and broaden understanding of important issues, thereby becoming a source of motivation and a release of new energy. The difference is in the skills that are necessary to utilize this force toward its positive end.

Individually and as a group, reflect on the following basic questions regarding conflict in the church.

Case Studies

Here are two case studies which provide an opportunity to reflect on the sources and dynamics of church conflict. No doubt you have had experiences with conflict in your own congregation as well. Feel free to draw on these experiences, sharing them with your study group if appropriate, as you consider the questions below.

Bill was the new pastor of a small church in a once-rural area who formed a new Bible study group. In an early discussion, Jack, a conservative member of the church, confronted Bill over their theological differences. "Christianity is based on the belief that Jesus was special," Jack said. "You have to believe that Jesus was born of the Virgin Mary, otherwise there'd be nothing special about him." Bill replied that the divinity of Jesus was not based on the literal truth of the virgin birth. His faith was just as strong with a symbolic belief. Later Jack talked to his friend Laura and told her he was resigning his church membership because this was so important to him. Concerned, Laura first tried talking to the pastor. Bill said Jack should go where he felt most comfortable. Then Laura asked for a special meeting of the pastor-parish relations committee, but the committee chair said there was nothing they could do. Unsatisfied, Laura went to the administrative council which voted to accept Jack's resignation. However, some members requested that the pastor say more about this controversy. Bill put them off, claiming it wasn't an appropriate time to discuss theological issues. By now, Laura and others in the church were beginning to wonder about their own views on the virgin birth and what their church believed. How much theological agreement is necessary and how much diversity can be tolerated? Was Bill really the kind of pastor they needed?

Martha pastored a medium-sized church in an urban area located near a major medical center. Several members of the congregation were doctors and nurses at the center. For some time, Martha had wanted to move the church into social justice ministry. She believed she had found the perfect solution: the church would open a free health clinic for the homeless. When she presented her plan to the program committee, however, it met with heated opposition. "We'll have no control over who comes in and out of building." "What about security for the church staff?" Karl, a doctor on the committee, complained that no one took their needs into consideration; they were overworked as it was. "How could we possibly afford such a major project anyway?" asked Susan, the business officer. To which Martha replied that she had already approached the denomination for partial funding and received a positive response. At that point, the meeting degenerated into angry questions and responses. "Where would we put it?" "Just don't think of using Morrow Hall. That's designated solely for congregation use." "That stipulation was never fair." "Well, it was the only way it got built." "Remember when our last pastor insisted we open a soup kitchen?" "It would have worked if you had supported him." "I'm just tired of everyone's pet project being rammed down our throats!" Finally, Susan motioned to table discussion pending further study. The motion carried but the group was unwilling to name a study committee at that time. Weeks went by. Congregation members avoided Martha fearing she would raise the issue again. Others wanted to circulate a petition, some for, some against. Martha talked to her denominational representative; Susan canvassed various committee chairs; Karl had a hallway conversation with his best friend in the congregation. What was going to happen next?

The Sources of Conflict

The problem is not the problem

When conflict breaks out, accusations fly. Everyone believes they know who or what the problem is. But the real source of conflict is probably not what people say it is. For this reason, exploring the surface dynamics of a conflict will not resolve it. Rather we must look to the state of participating individuals and the existing relationships between them.

Perception

Perception is the process of taking into our minds the multitude of data that our senses make available to us. For instance, we never really meet a "new" person. An initial interaction with someone new is so overloaded with data that we selectively pick only what we are capable of absorbing through our filters. The same is true when we meet a new group of people or have any new experience. On the basis of our perception, each of us constructs a personal world view which we call reality. Each personal world view is different, which means that we often perceive the same event differently. The potential for conflict is enormous, because we "see" others and the world through the filters of our own perception.

 

Communication

Communication is the process of passing messages or ideas from person to person. We normally communicate an idea by "translating" it into words or actions and "sending" it to others. We hope that they receive the same idea we sent. Of course our way of "translating" and "sending" the message depends on our own personal meanings for words and actions. In addition, the person receiving the message must also decode it, using another full set of personal meanings for words and actions. The possibilities for miscommunication are endless, leading to potential conflict.

Power

Power is the force necessary to achieve an end or a goal. In our society, power tends to be understood negatively. It is usually seen as a force over us, to be used against us, or as a force we enjoy over others. It is seldom equal and often implies exclusivity. Thus conflict generally involves the exercise of power in an attempt to gain control of scarce resources or to influence behavior.

In order to effectively utilize conflict, we need to change our understanding of power. It is important to view power as an ever growing resource, rather than a scarce commodity for which we must compete. This is not to deny that power may be gained at the cost of others. But coercive power used for domination is more costly and less likely to prevail than non-coercive power. Power in its deepest sense is not some person(s) dominating others, but all persons fulfilling their richest possibilities and God-given potential in the interaction of the human community.

I am the source of most conflict I experience

Our understanding and use of power is rooted in our basic need for self-worth. Used for selfish ends of domination and control, power is a distorted form of self-affirmation. It represents our attempt to enforce our values and needs on others. But many times our own values and needs are themselves in conflict. We are competing with others at the same time we are competing with our own diverse inner drives, and we project our inner conflict outward onto others.

Effective utilization of conflict, then, must involve the connections between three forms of conflict: internal or intrapersonal conflict, that between individuals or interpersonal conflict, and that between group structures or intergroup conflict. This is how conflict moves back and forth between the personal and the social.

We are all subject to the psychological dynamics of inner conflict. Perhaps greatest among these is the ongoing inner tension or battle between our "shoulds" and our "wants." The site of this battle, Freud tells us, is the ego, the place where our inner selves meet the external world. Every person seeks a balance between their internal state and their relation to reality. But when our self-image comes into conflict with reality, our ego-identity is called into question. This is intrapersonal conflict. Interpersonal and intergroup conflict follow as a result.

For instance, as Christians we find it acceptable to feel and express love, but not hate. Yet some things in the real world cause us to feel hate, thus leading to inner conflict. Or at times our desire for personal gratification is at odds with what society or the church tell us is acceptable. We want to both approach and avoid the object of our desire, which again leads to indecision and frustration. At times like this, we become uncomfortable with our self-image, feeling unworthy and unacceptable to others and to ourselves. Our interpersonal relations become very fragile when we are in this condition. We may be excessively concerned about our own power and control over others in order to relieve our sense of ambivalence and the accompanying feelings of tension and threat.

In this way, the negative or positive valence of a person's self-worth determines whether that person's power will be expressed constructively or destructively. This has a direct bearing on how we handle conflict. If we experience ourselves as having negative self-worth, we react defensively in relationship to others and tend toward a win/lose lifestyle. If our sense of self-worth is positive, however, we can more easily project that value onto others and work with them in empowering each other.

So a non-threatening environment of acceptance and support is vital for the effective utilization of conflict. The freedom to be and accept that being engenders receptivity to others and their possibility for being, uniting in a win/win style of relationship. This condition allows for the goals of self and the goals of others to be compatible, fostering creativity and growth for all concerned. Power, while seldom equal, can at least be in equilibrium. Participants in the conflict feel that they are being heard and taken seriously.

The Dynamics of Conflict

We tend to think of all conflict as destructive, but that's not necessarily the case. The difference is in how we handle conflict -- whether we just manage it or effectively utilize it. Just managing conflict is a way of bypassing the deeper issues and feelings which are the real source of the conflict. Participants may attempt to keep the peace by denying that a problem exists or avoiding its implications. Or participants may call for a vote, polarizing the situation by forcing people to take a position on the issue before the real problem has been fully identified or uncovered. Using conflict effectively, on the other hand, is a way of bringing deeper issues and feelings out into the open so that the conflict has a chance of being resolved to everyone's satisfaction.

This is the difference between destructive and constructive conflict, between a win/lose and a win/win approach. We probably have more experience with the characteristics of destructive conflict: secrecy, threats, coercion and bluffs, misperception and miscommunication, unbridled competition in which one party tries to destroy, injure, or control the other(s) and in which one party gains only at the other's expense. We have likely had less experience with constructive conflict and its characteristics: openness, trust, no threats or power plays, a willingness to learn and change, and a cooperative stance in which the goals of the participants are integrally linked.

Most conflict begins with a sense of chaos and uncomfortable feelings of fear, hurt and anger. It quickly devolves into a competitive stage where people attempt to identify who or what the problem is and establish their own position: "I am right and you are wrong." Unless this destructive pattern is circumvented and transformed into a constructive one, the conflict continues in a win/lose style. People take sides and close ranks. People become more and more judgmental and perceptual distortions become greater and greater. Differences are highlighted, similarities overlooked, and the desire to understand another position deteriorates quickly. The pressure finally is not to be objective or innovative, or seek the best solution, but to win at any cost. So a temporary winner emerges, but the disagreement is really not resolved. And the subjugation of differences lays the groundwork for future internal strife. When events trigger another conflict, all the feelings and agendas from previously unresolved conflicts rise to the surface and come into play.

How to Turn Bad Conflict into Good

Becoming skilled at conflict resolution can take professional training and years of experience. But there are some basic principles and techniques which can help you more effectively understand and utilize conflict when it comes your way. If nothing else, it can help you recognize when conflict requires a trained, neutral third-party in order to be resolved. You can become an advocate in your church for fair fighting, constructive conflict and a win/win lifestyle.

These suggestions are based on the idea that change takes place in people, not in the problem. In order to effectively utilize conflict, we must work on enhancing the state of the individuals involved and the relationships between them. We must work on improving perception and communication, and on establishing an equilibrium of power among participants. How do we accomplish this?

Fair Fighting

 

One of the first things to do, especially if the individuals or groups involved have a history of unresolved conflict, is to draw up a contract for fair fighting -- a list of ground rules, so to speak. At base, this contract must provide for:

- an attitude of mutual respect

- a commitment to active listening to others

- a clear focus on the participants' interdependence and mutual interests

Depending on the situation, a contract might also include the following provisions:

- no "people are saying" comments

- no blaming

- no interrupting

- no labeling

- no personalizing of issues

- speak for yourself, not for others

Remember, supportive relationships are fundamental to resolving conflict. The purpose of your fair fighting contract is to create a non-threatening, accepting and open environment in which to air differences and learn from others. But also remember that this will not keep everyone in harmony. We have no reason to believe that a completely harmonious environment is most productive for growth. Some degree of competition seems to help. When competition and diversity occurs in a supportive climate, then it contributes to creative problem solving. Competition, however, must move toward collaboration.

Integrative Goals

The key to transforming destructive into constructive conflict is focusing on integrative goals, common values, and mutual interests. This changes a win/lose into a win/win situation. Basic human needs are important to the success of integrative goals. These needs include a sense of personal worth and importance, achievement, fulfillment, recognition, and self-actualization. They must be stated explicitly so that all fully understand them. With integrative goals, the best interests of all can be sought.

There is an important distinction between positional and interest-based bargaining. Most attempts at dealing with conflict begin with positional bargaining. Conflicting parties state and advocate their positions on the issue, clear about whose position is right or wrong, good or bad. A win/win approach, however, distinguishes between partisan positions and the interests, needs, desires and commitments underlying these positions. People generally confuse the two, assuming that their solution to the problem is the same as their underlying needs. But this is not usually the case, and as they communicate about the interests which underlie their differences, and as those interests are recognized and validated, parties begin to see how they can negotiate their differences without betraying their fundamental values and commitments. Rather than fighting over different positions or solutions, they begin fighting together for a solution which meets as many different needs as possible.

Consensus

In a win/win situation, all parties are basically satisfied with the outcome and feel that they have benefitted as a result. Unacceptable solutions are not forced upon losers, as in the usual church decision-making process based on Robert's Rules of Order. Focusing on integrative goals is a way to lead us into consensus-making behavior. This does not mean that the solution will be the exact wishes of every individual, but it will not violate the deep concerns of anyone and will reflect common objectives so that it can be agreed upon by all.

Sometimes complete consensus is not possible. It may be necessary to arrive at a partial, or pragmatic, consensus which allows for a degree of success to be experienced by the parties in conflict. Pragmatic consensus embodies a solution to some aspect of the problem on which there is agreement, and gives that solution a trial run for a period of time, followed by evaluation. Growth can come from such pragmatic consensus as well. Partial success builds trust and confidence to work toward greater success.

If even pragmatic consensus is not possible, then there needs to be a turning back to the basic search for integrative goals. With stronger or more complete goals the group may discover an innovative solution which will meet the conditions needed by all. It could be necessary to go through this process more than once.

A win/win approach, while sometimes more difficult, is more effective in the long run. It is also particularly consistent with the values of the Christian community -- openness, trust, inclusiveness and mutual support.

Conflict Resolution and the Christian Community

Conflict is a process, a means to an end. It connects the disruption and chaos of the old with the establishment of harmony and resolution of the new and not yet. Thus conflict is as essential to the Christian faith as is the cross. The ultimate goal includes both reconciliation and integration, but one does not get there through a process of cheap grace. One must come through the cross to reconciliation in a process of effective conflict resolution.

The use of a win/win approach -- with its open accepting environment for airing differences, its focus on interdependence and common goals, and the process of reaching consensus itself -- constitutes an empowering act in the church. Conflict becomes a dynamic which energizes people and enhances growth. It allows us to raise important issues, seek creative solutions, clarify and establish goals. We fall into troublesome complacency when we cease to debate the issues that must be raised. Church battles can therefore be a sign of hope. In the end, our diversity with its resultant fighting can be seen not as a fight to the death, but a fight for new life.

My vision of the church is of a creative, committed, problem-solving community, able to effectively utilize conflict as an empowering force to deal not only with our own internal problems, but with the concerns and issues of the larger world as well.

To realize this vision requires a faith that chaos, anger, confusion, and doubt can be overcome and that conflict can bring the church toward reconciliation and new possibilities. This reminds us of two things we need to remember about who we are as the church. First, we must remember that by the very act of creation, God gives each individual unique value and worth. Faith in this gift allows each member of the church to affirm his or her sense of self-worth which enables us to engage in the constructive utilization of conflict. Second, we must remember not only to trust each other, but also to trust that God uses even our disagreements to further the work of the church and our spiritual growth.

 

 

Exploring a Life of Prayer

When I was first invited to teach a class on prayer at the Iliff School of Theology, I responded eagerly and submitted my course proposal with the title "Explorations in Prayer." My basic course was accepted, but the title was changed to "Life of Prayer." My previous excitement turned to fear. I knew I could help students explore many ways of praying, but could I teach them about a life of prayer? I was not sure I was living a life of prayer. Would I be able to teach with integrity?

In the recent years of teaching "Life of Prayer," I have discovered the wisdom in the title. By recognizing my own inadequacies, I am able to be more open and vulnerable in the classroom. I am a more effective teacher when I am struggling to learn along with the students. "Life of Prayer" is also an invitation to integrate prayer with life. Life with only a small section devoted to exploring prayer is quite different from putting prayer at the center of life.

Prayer is our response to God's loving call. In this reflection I will invite you into activities to help you affirm and learn from these experiences of prayer. We will explore what keeps us from responding when deep in our hearts we long to be in relationship with God. I will encourage you to try different forms of prayer to discover which ones fit you best. My hope is that this reflection will lead all of us more deeply into the center of our lives where we find God. When we truly know God to be at the center of our lives we are living a life of prayer.

The Experience of Prayer

Most of us know the experience of prayer. We may remember prayers taught to us in childhood. Prayers offered in our church communities may have meaning for us. Many of us can recall a time of pain, agony or despair when a prayer was pulled out of us with surprising strength: "Oh God, help me, help me!" or "Why, God, why?"

Often we remember times of great wonder during which we experienced God's presence. A sunset, a piece of music, or a baby's smile he]ps us to remember that God speaks to us in many ways if we are open and willing to see and to listen. When our hearts are touched by the wonder of God we often respond with words of gratitude or praise or simply an inner smile of joy.

We are all pray-ers; we know how to pray. But when we think about learning to pray we forget our experience and turn outside ourselves for answers and insights. The first step in exploring the life of prayer is to begin with the experiences that are uniquely ours.

How were you introduced to prayer? I was taught "Now I lay me down to sleep..." and the Lord's Prayer. I do not remember learning them; I just remember always knowing them. I did not say my prayers regularly at bed time and our family did not have times of prayer together except at special meals when grace was offered by my father. We went to church as a family and I remember long and boring prayers from the minister. I was never taught about silent prayer, being quiet in God's presence, or the fact that I could have an individual relationship with God. Exploring our childhood memories, the positive and negative, the instructions and the lack of teaching, helps to guide our adult prayer life.

Prayer as Action

A woman in a class on prayer, when asked to remember her first spiritual experience, told the instructor that she could not remember anything about a time of prayer, but what was flooding her mind and heart was a school girl's memory. When asked to describe the incident that had come into her awareness, she told the following story:

I was nine years old and playing with my friends at recess. I noticed a Jewish classmate sitting under a tree and crying silently. She had not been accepted in our school and was often teased. I hadn't paid much attention to her until that day. I remember seeing her all alone and without hesitation I left my friends and what we were doing to go and sit beside her. We did not speak, we just sat together for the rest of the playtime.

When she finished her story the instructor said softly, "Your compassionate response to a person in need was a spiritual experience. Action can be a form of prayer."

Often our understanding of prayer is too narrow. We exclude from our prayer life powerful experiences because they do not fit our definition of what prayer is or what prayer is supposed to be. I define prayer as any activity that nurtures our relationship with God. If reading Scripture brings you closer to God, that is prayer. If having tea with a friend nurtures your relationship with God, that is prayer. If sitting still in a summer garden feeds your soul, that is prayer. Listening to music, teaching Sunday School, serving in a soup kitchen -- all can become prayer.

Intention and Attention

Turning our daily experiences into prayer takes both "intention" and "attention." Our intention has to do with why we choose to engage in a certain activity. I may take a brisk walk to control my weight and lower my blood pressure. Or I may take a walk with the intention of drinking in the beauty of God's creation. I could read poetry because it relaxes me before I go to sleep, or I could read listening for the Spirit in the poet's words. I could serve lunch to the chronically mentally ill because it would be an interesting experience. Or I could volunteer because Jesus said, "Even as you do for the least of these, you do it for me" (Matthew 25:40).

Attention has to do with the focus of our minds and hearts as we engage in our activity. Attention is similar to the Eastern practice called mindfulness, which is being fully present to the moment. In Christian practice, attention is being fully present to God in the moment. Cooking a meal with our hearts centered on God is more of a prayer than the rote repetition of a standard prayer with our mind centered on what we will do when the prayer time is over.

Exploring the life of prayer begins with remembering all the ways we are pray-ers. The following questions may help you to guide you in your explorations:

* How were you taught to pray? What was left out of those teachings?

* Remember an early experience which you would now, using our broader definition, call prayer.

* Make a list of all the things you do that nurtures your relationship with God.

* What activities could you turn into prayer by shifting your intention and your attention?

* Can you imagine how your life would change if you were more intentional about prayer and paid more attention to God?

Obstacles to Prayer

I like to imagine the life of prayer as a long and winding path on which God calls us to journey. We are not at the beginning of the life of prayer, for we have been on this journey since birth. "The Lord called me before I was born," says Isaiah, "while I was in my mother's womb God named me" (Isaiah 49:1b).

Looking back and remembering helps us to know how our prayer life developed. Examining our relationship to God in our present situation teaches about our immediate prayer practices and encourages us to ask: "How might I deepen my life of prayer? What are my next steps on this journey?" God is calling, and we long to respond, but sometimes we find ourselves stuck, not moving, trying to ignore the call. What gets in the way of responding to God's call? What are the obstacles we encounter as we travel the path of prayer?

Although many people speak of being blocked in prayer because of outside restraints -- not enough time, no quiet place, too many interruptions, lack of family understanding -- most of our obstacles to prayer reside within ourselves. We may be blocked by old ideas about what prayer is and what prayer is not. We may think that we do not know how to pray. We may not feel good enough to respond to God's call. Or we may be afraid that if we proceed in prayer God may ask of us that which we are unwilling to give.

Engaging Our Obstacles

To discover our own obstacles we must be willing to step forward on the path of prayer, for often we do not know what is in our way until we bump into it. In an exercise using guided imagery to help students recognize their blocks to prayer, one man met a strange character standing in his way. He was wearing a full suit of medieval armor and brandishing a sword. When the man stopped and engaged the stranger in dialogue, the armored man dropped his fighting stance and said in a weary voice: "I am only trying to protect you. If you continue on the path of prayer you will become vulnerable. You might get hurt."

The student had no idea that his fear of vulnerability was blocking his prayer life, but the imagined meeting with the stranger made perfect sense. He had been brought up to believe that men should be strong and in control at all times. He had been warned of the dangers of being vulnerable in a hostile world. His fear of vulnerability in his interpersonal life was also active in his life of prayer.

The obstacles which we discover are not to be discounted, overpowered, or destroyed. This student could have ignored the armored man, or taken up his own sword for a fight, or pushed him aside as an insignificant bother. Instead, he listened to the stranger, took him seriously and ultimately included him in the life of prayer. "Now when I pray," the student told me later, "I imagine the armored man praying with me."

The obstacles that stand in the way of our prayerful journeys are to be attended to, engaged, and included in the life of prayer. The path to God is one of compassion not violence, one of patience not urgency. There is no rush, for God is with us even as God is calling us.

One young woman told me she had stopped praying because her old images of God were no longer valid, and she had no new images to replace them. "How can I pray to a God I cannot imagine?" she asked. I suggested she take her dilemma into prayer. "Pray to the God of Mystery," I prompted her. "Tell this God about your lack of images, and whatever you are feeling about your loss."

If we try to figure out who God is before we pray, we may never pray. Similarly, if we wait to pray until we have the right words, until we build our self-esteem, until we overcome our fear of vulnerability, we may never pray. The longer we wait to pray the more we leave God out of the process of our transformation. When we are willing to acknowledge the true blocks on our paths of prayer, engage them and include them in our prayer, our obstacles and our very beings will be transformed.

* When you think of responding to God's call to relationship, what feelings get evoked?

* When you think of deepening your prayer life, what do you believe might get in your way?

* How might you pray with your block to prayer? How could you include your obstacles in your life of prayer?

Forms of Prayer

After you have explored your own experience of prayer and discovered where you are in your life of prayer, you may wish to examine different forms of prayer with the possibility of learning a new way to pray. Sometimes we outgrow our old ways and we need some new ideas. Sometimes we are content with the way we are praying yet wish to expand into new areas. Sometimes we need help in understanding what prayer forms we are using and how we might deepen the experience. The forms of prayer described below are offered as a possible next step in your life of prayer.

 

Prayers of Praise and Thanksgiving

Prayers of praise and thanksgiving are one of the most common forms of prayer. Many hymns in worship are hymns of praise. A simple table grace is a form of thanksgiving. Prayers of gratitude are a common response to the beauty of God's creation. "Thanks be to God!" may be the shout at the arrival of good news.

People who have recovered from grave illness speak of their deep gratitude for life. People who have lost everything in fire or flood speak with wonder about being alive. A heart filled with gratitude can be developed in more ordinary circumstances by practicing regular prayers of praise and thanksgiving. To pray in this way we simply need to pay attention to all we have received and express our gratitude. The wonder of a fall morning, the smile of a child, an unexpected call from a friend, a task completed, a place to live, a warm meal -- all can evoke a prayer of thanksgiving.

"Arrow Prayer" is a term used to describe a prayer which is offered quickly in the moment. Prayers of thanksgiving often come in the form of arrow prayers. Arrow prayers are also helpful in times of distress. "Help me, God!" "Holy one, watch over me." "Walk with me Jesus, for I am afraid." These arrow prayers are also prayers of praise and thanksgiving for they recognize God's on-going presence in daily life.

Prayers of Anger and Sorrow

Sometimes in the experience of deep grief and overwhelming anger, God seems very far away. We may feel that God has abandoned us. Although many people find prayer hard during these times, these deep feelings can provide a fertile ground for prayer.

The Psalms provide guidance for this form of prayer. The psalmist was not afraid to cry out to God in anguish, rage, grief and despair. The psalms teach us to turn to God in our hours and days of darkness.

"Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord"

(Psalm 130)

"My tears have become my food, night and day..."

(Psalm 42)

"More misfortunes beset me than I can count..."

(Psalm 40)

"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

(Psalm 22)

There have been times in my life when my anger has burned so brightly, or my grief has been so overwhelming that I have been rendered inarticulate. I could not have formed words for a prayer if I had wished. But God does not need poetry. God does not even need words. In our deepest despair, if we simply turn our hearts to God, we have fashioned a prayer. And as we continue to weep and rage in God's presence, we may be comforted that we do not suffer alone.

Intercessory Prayer

Intercessory prayers are prayers on behalf of others. We ask not for ourselves, but for them. We are all familiar with prayers of intercession and we offer them up frequently. We pray for our national and world leaders. We pray for the victims of natural and human disaster. Sometimes we pray more specifically, asking God for exact outcomes: "God, bring Martha out of her coma." "Please God, keep Paul safe on his coming journey."

Prayers of intercession may be in the form of arrow prayers as someone you love comes to mind. You may wish to be more intentional, putting aside a period of time each week to pray for others. Prayers may be offered in which you ask God for specific intercession, or your prayers may be more general such as: "God, be with ... this week" or "God, I commend to you ..." or "God, may ... know your hope."

A non-verbal way to pray for others is to use your imagination. In your mind's eye, visualize the person for whom you are praying. Then visualize this person being held in God's hands, or surrounded with the light of God's love, or in the company of Jesus. As you sit in prayerful imagination allow the mental picture to take its own shape. Allow it to move from your mind to your heart. Hold this image lightly in your heart before you release the person for whom you are praying.

General intercession is another way to pray for others. The following prayer is an example of general intercession:

Gracious God, I pray ...

...for all those I love

...for all who are hard to pray for

...for all who are ill

...for all who grieve

...for all who have been forgotten

May they find comfort in your loving presence. Amen.

Prayer of the Heart

In 19th century Russia, a lone peasant wondered around his country in search of the answer to one compelling question: "How does one pray constantly?" He writes anonymously of his journey and his discoveries in the classic book, The Way of the Pilgrim. Although we differ greatly in time and place and situation, the Pilgrim's teachings are relevant for us today.

The Pilgrim discovered as he walked, talking to people, reading and praying, that one prayer, repeated over and over and over again moved from his lips, to his mind, to his heart. After long periods of repetition, the prayer was as constant as his heartbeat. His heart was praying constantly. The prayer the Pilgrim used was "Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me."

The Pilgrim chose this particular phrase for he believed that these six words held the full truth of the Gospel message. You might choose another short prayer that holds more meaning for you such as "Dear God, hold me close," or "Gracious God, grant me peace," or "Jesus, my brother, walk with me."

When you have chosen your prayer, begin to repeat it over and over again. Be creative about when you practice. Pray your prayer as you run errands, as you wait in lines, as you do chores. Pray your prayer as you are going to sleep and as you awake. Speak the words out loud when you have the chance, or silently in your mind. Keep praying and wait and watch for the time when you realize that your prayer has moved to your heart, and begins to pray itself. Be patient. The Pilgrim teaches us that all our hearts are willing and able and eager to pray constantly.

Centering Prayer

As friendships grow and deepen and trust is built between people, periods of silence become comfortable and even a vital part of the relationship. So it is in our relationship with God. Most forms of prayer teach us ways to speak to God, not ways to listen to God. To listen effectively we must be willing to be silent. Centering prayer is a form of prayer that helps us be still and listen to God.

The practice of centering prayer is the commitment to simply be with God in silence for 15 or 20 minutes once or twice a day. Father Thomas Keating, who has been writing about and teaching centering prayer for over 25 years, recommends that before you enter into centering prayer you pick a sacred word. The sacred word is to remind you of your intention during prayer time, which is to rest in God's presence. You might choose God, or Abba, or Jesus, or Spirit, or Holy One. You could choose an image such as a flame, or a deep pool, or a rainbow.

Once you have chosen your word or image, begin your prayer time with a brief verbal prayer asking God's guidance and then simply sit silently in God's presence. You will soon find that this simple form of prayer is not easy! As soon as I am silent outwardly, the inner noise begins. I am besieged, not with the presence of God, but with old memories, plans for tomorrow and next year, things I must do, people I need to talk to, ideas about new projects, and on and on and on.

All these thoughts do not mean that I am failing at centering prayer. They simply mean that my attention has left God and gone somewhere else. So I slowly speak my sacred word which reminds me of my intention and allows my attention to return to God. Once I am back with God, only a few seconds will pass before I am somewhere else again. When I notice I am not with God, I say the sacred word and return. This is the rhythm and the practice of centering prayer.

Sometimes people think that the goal of centering prayer is to silence all thoughts and be in perfect stillness. But there is no goal of centering prayer except to be with God. Your thoughts will never go away. In centering prayer you use the sacred word to drop beneath the thoughts and feelings into God's loving presence.

After 15 or 20 minutes have passed, offer a brief prayer of thanksgiving, or say the Lord's Prayer, and move gently back into the activities of your life. You may think: "Well that didn't work! I don't feel any closer to God. I don't feel at peace. I had to use my sacred word about one hundred times, and once I even forgot my sacred word!" You need not be discouraged. Centering prayer takes practice, and even those who have practiced for years have difficult periods of prayer. What is important in centering prayer is that you continue to practice. And keep in mind Father Keating's encouraging words: "The only way you can fail at centering prayer is to not show up!"

Lectio Divina

Another prayer form, Lectio Divina (which means Sacred Reading), uses Scripture to guide us into prayer. Instead of reading the Bible to "cover the material" or "get through a whole book or chapter," Lectio Divina invites us to read a very short passage slowly.

In Lectio Divina the Scripture passage is read four times. The intent of each reading is different. The first reading is read aloud to simply hear the words. The second reading, either aloud or silent, is for thinking about the passage. Bring to mind whatever you know or question about the words. After the third reading, respond with prayer. Talk to God about what you have read and how you feel about it. When you read the passage the fourth time, allow the words to touch your heart. Sit quietly, as in centering prayer, and listen to the word of God as it is revealed through Scripture.

Lectio Divina is a prayer form which is ideally suited to group prayer. The second reading can lead to a lively discussion, and the third to shared prayers that the passage evokes. The silent period is enhanced when a group of pray-ers share the same intention and focus their attention on God through Scripture. Read, reflect, respond and rest are words to help you recall the four movements of Lectio Divina.

The Embodiment of Prayer

"And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory as of God's only son, full of grace and truth" (John 1:14). In spite of these words from the Gospel of John, Christianity has often separated body and spirit, rather than recognizing that they are one. Therefore, many of our prayer forms ignore or even seem to deny the body. (How many times were you told as a child not to wiggle in church?!)

When we recognize the unity of body and spirit, the body can become a path to prayer. Through your God-given senses you can recognize God's presence in the everyday world. Remember beauty that has opened your eyes to God: sunsets, rose buds, children playing. Remember sounds that tell of God's love: a friend's voice, harp music, crickets. Remember the feel of puppy fur, of cool sand on bare feet, of early morning sunlight. What about the taste of communion bread, hot tea, chocolate, tears? And remember the smell of new mown hay, salt air, campfire smoke. These ordinary events that are experienced through our senses can nurture our relationship with God.

Another way our bodies can guide us in prayer is to pay attention to our physical positions when we pray. Notice what happens in a group when a leader says: "Let us pray." Everyone bows their heads. A bowed head is the most common prayer position in the Protestant tradition, but it is only one of many. In experimenting with body positions, I have discovered that different postures evoke different prayers. By paying attention to your bodies and feelings, we can discover the many ways our bodies like to pray.

What are your prayers when you bow your head and fold your hands? What do you pray on your knees? Or when you stand with your arms stretched up to heaven? What happens when you pray with your brothers and sisters with your eyes open and holding hands? You cannot answer these questions with your mind. Put your body in the different positions and see what happens. If your body cannot assume some of these postures, close your eyes and imagine yourself in the different positions. You may be surprised at what you discover.

Finding Your Own Way

You have explored the early beginnings of your prayer life, the twists and turns that brought you to this point, your present experience as a pray-er, and the possibilities for the future. With all this information it may be time for you to fashion your own unique life of prayer. What might your prayer life look like in the next months?

Being realistic in your planning is very important. A young mother of three was very drawn to centering prayer. She went to many retreats to learn more and to practice centering prayer in a group. When she came home, she tried to find two 20-minute periods during the day when she could just be with God. She could not do it. Many days went by without her centering time and she got discouraged and gave up. Months later she attended another retreat and spoke of her difficulty and disappointment to the leader. This kind and wise woman told her: "My dear, you are clearly drawn to centering prayer. Attend as many retreats as you are able. Learn this form of prayer so that you will be ready when your circumstances are ready. As for now, with your young children and your work, let go of centering prayer, but do not let go of God. Use arrow prayers throughout your day, and if you find a moment of quiet, rest in that and thank God."

When thinking about a life or prayer many people try to plan a daily routine. Routine and rhythm can come in many forms. Maybe you already have the rhythm of weekly worship. Recognize that as part of your life of prayer. I make a commitment to go on two retreats a year and see those times as integral to my life of prayer. Your practice of prayer may change during Advent or Lent, or maybe with the seasons. Someone whose early morning walk is regular prayer time in the warm months, will need to discover another practice for the cold of winter.

Praying with Others

Another element in fashioning one's life of prayer is the inclusion of others. Prayer is not just a solitary endeavor. Prayer partners are one way to make a human commitment as well as a commitment to God. Prayer partners can meet regularly for prayer together. Prayer partners can also be committed to praying for each other for a period of time. Sometimes prayer partners can become spiritual friends who meet periodically not only for prayer but for a discussion of each person's on-going relationship with God.

Prayer groups can be helpful as you begin a regular practice of a new form of prayer. A weekly commitment to join together for centering prayer, or Lectio Divina, or intercessory prayer helps to establish a pattern and honors Jesus' words: "When two or three are gathered together, I am there among them" (Matthew 18:20 ). Some prayer groups are on-going, others ask people to make a specific time commitment.

Delighting in Prayer

A woman came to speak with me because she felt that she had lost her prayer life. She was no longer practicing the forms of prayer that were common to her tradition. She felt guilty about her lack of discipline and could not figure out why she was not returning to prayer. When I asked her whether she felt alienated from God she responded: "Oh, no. I've never felt the presence of God so integral to my life."

I then asked her what she was doing to nurture her relationship with God. She told me that every morning she would get up, fix herself a cup of strong tea, wrap herself in her grandmother's afghan and sit in her comfortable lounge chair and gaze out her window at Pike's Peak. Sometimes she would play music, or read a few lines of Scripture or other devotional material. "Sounds like prayer to me," I said. "Oh, no," she replied. "It's too easy and comfortable to be prayer."

Designing Your Own Life of Prayer

The practice of prayer can be comfortable, challenging, easy or difficult. Like human relationships, our relationships with God will go through many stages as we become more intimate. Sometimes the relationship will fill us with great joy, other times it will seem boring and stale. Sometimes the relationship will be as natural as breathing. Sometimes it will demand hard work and require a lot of time and energy. We may even have times when we break our relationship with God, going our own way, paying no attention to God or to prayer. But God does not turn away. God keeps calling. And after a time, a longing wells up in us to return to God. This longing is a sign of faithfulness, for our hearts have been touched; we have heard God's call.

Our longing will lead us to God, back to the life of prayer. Rather than berating ourselves for having lost our way, we can celebrate that we have found our way again. Like the woman who lost one of her ten silver coins and called her friends and neighbors together to rejoice (Luke 15:8-10), we can know joy when we return to the life of prayer.

As you think about and plan for your own life of prayer, be in prayer. Let the spirit guide you. Prayer forms can be combined or adapted for your own special needs. You may discover a unique style that grows out of your past experience, your present circumstances and your longing for God.

In designing your own prayer life, the following questions may guide you:

* What is the easiest and most natural form of prayer for you?

* What would be a realistic rhythm of prayer for you? Daily? Weekly? Monthly? Would it be possible to schedule a yearly retreat?

* Remember times you have wandered from your practice of prayer. What was the experience of being lost and then finding your way again?

Conclusion

You might ask: "Isn't a life centered on prayer only for monks and mystics and saints?" Although these holy people have much to teach us about prayer, I believe a life of prayer is available to all of us -- young and old; alone and in the midst of family; working, retired, and unemployed. God calls all of us into relationship.

As you respond to God's loving call in your life, I offer this prayer from Ephesians for your journey:

I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ ... may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know God, so that with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which God has called you....

(Ephesians 1:17-18)

 

SUGGESTED READING

Bacovcin, Helen, trans., The Way of the Pilgrim, Garden City, New York: Image Books, 1978.

Barry, William A., S. J., God and You: Prayer As Personal Relationship, New York: Paulist Press, 1987.

Beckman, Richard J., Prayer: Beginning Conversations with God and Praying for Wholeness and Healing, Minneapolis: Augsburg Publishing, 1995.

Hall, Thelma, R.C., Too Deep for Words: Rediscovering Lectio Divina, New York: Paulist Press, 1988.

Keating, Thomas, Open Mind; Open Heart, New York: Amity House, 1986.

Rupp, Joyce, O.S.M., Praying Our Goodbyes, Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1988.

Thompson, Marjorie J., Soul Feast: An Invitation to the Christian Spiritual Life, Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995.

Vennard, Jane E., Praying for Friends and Enemies: Intercessory Prayer, Minneapolis: Augsburg Publishing, 1995.

Vennard, Jane E., narrator, Coming Face to Face With God: Conversations of Prayer, (video), Minneapolis: Augsburg Publishing, 1995.

Wuellner, Flora Slosson, Prayer and Our Bodies, Nashville: The Upper Room, 1987.

Can the Nonconservative Seminaries Help the Churches?

Religious journalists have been calling attention to the plight of the "liberal" -- i.e., nonconservative -- theological seminaries. Like almost all institutions of higher education, these schools, whether university-related or denominational, are buffeted by inflation, a decrease of public support, and a drop in student enrollment. A number of considerations may explain the enrollment problem: a near oversupply of ministers in the denominations that feed these schools as well as the fact that the denominations themselves have arrived at a plateau of growth; the current popularity of religious conservatism; and, finally, the transfer of the "seeker" type of theological student to other environments. How temporary and faddish these developments are is difficult to assess. But the nonconservative theological schools are caught in a deeper problem, one that is rooted in their recent history and represents both their glory and their failure.

Malaise and Antidotes

A symptom of that problem is the malaise of students in these schools today. While this malaise may draw support from the spirit of depression that pervades campuses across the nation, it is no new phenomenon in the seminaries. There, something seems to have been wrong for a generation. Students have had little complaint about the academic quality of their education, yet for the most part their total experience in their three years of professional study has not been positive. Looking back now, alumni of these schools uniformly express dissatisfaction about what did and did not happen in their seminary years.

Aware of such dysphoria, theological schools have long been working overtime to remedy it. In the past 25 years they have undertaken endless self-diagnoses which prompted cycles of curriculum change, the development of unwieldy student-faculty-staff bureaucracies and modes of governance, and all sorts of societal field experimentation. Each of these moves reflected the dominant theological and cultural temper of the time. The existentialist mood of the post-World War II period predisposed these schools to see the problem as one of making the faith relevant to the individual student’s needs. interests and situation. It seems that Barth and church theology tend to create among "academically" weighted schools feelings of guilt which push them to give more attention to the field of church and ministry. The social activist movements of those years also contributed to the seminaries’ guilty conscience, so that they made at least token attempts to become sources of societal change as well as exemplifications of equity and justice.

Yet students’ discontent continues and perhaps deepens -- mainly, I think, because they can sense no obvious connection between their theological studies and their anticipated career, between what they are doing in the seminary and what they expect to be doing in the ministry. In schools of law and medicine, an unimaginative pedagogy and an intolerable governing structure may evoke protest, but at least the students sense some relation between the study of anatomy or tax structures and being a physician or a lawyer. In the seminary the once obvious rationale for Bible, theology and history is no longer visible. "Rationale" refers not to specific aspects of the seminary program but to the very raison d’etre of the shape of that program; in other words, to what used to be called "Theological Encyclopedia." That means the arrangement of the areas of theological study according to some coherent principle. Typically, it is founded both in the nature of the Christian faith and in the church and the ministry. The current division of theological studies into Bible, history, theology, ethics and practical theology reflects a very old Theological Encyclopedia, but one whose foundations in a theology of the Word, of teaching office, of church and ministry, if not discredited, are at least invisible to present-day students -- probably because many of them simply do not share the old consensus about the church which produced this Theological Encyclopedia.

This problem is compounded in the university-related divinity schools. Their student bodies represent diverse religious and denominational traditions, none of which functions as the reigning source of the views about church and ministry that are behind the curriculum. In addition, many of these arrive at the school in some stage of alienation from their own tradition, and some have little rootage in any religious faith. Hence professional studies serve to introduce them to the religious tradition which is presupposed by the inherited Theological Encyclopedia. Furthermore, these schools deal simultaneously with the accumulated tradition (gathered up into courses in Bible, theology, history, etc.) and with the critique of that tradition. Thus the student is subjected to a confusing amalgam of tradition and criticism, which also undercuts the tradition, as a rationale for the whole package of study.

Technical Solutions to the Rescue

Most of our nonconservative theological schools have responded to time symptoms of these problems by way of technical analyses and solutions. To be sure, their approach has not been "technical" in the narrow sense of giving exclusive attention to such questions as enrollment, funding and school reorganization. Generally speaking, the seminaries have consciously addressed the interrelation between what they do and the future career of the graduate. Nevertheless, their way of handling this interrelation has been primarily technical; that is, they have focused on the skills needed to perform discrete ministerial functions (counseling, management, community organization, etc.) while neglecting the issues of the nature of the faith, its communal dimension, and the church.

In most cases, however, the technical approach to theological education is hidden by sophisticated rhetoric about the need for relating the church to the world and for reinterpreting the faith in modern social and psychological terms. Behind such talk is the conviction that we know what we are doing in theology, Bible and history, and that the problem is to stage occasions on which the student learns to work with people "applying" the "input" part of his education to life. One result of this technical approach is that the classical theological disciplines are dead weights in the seminary curriculum. A great many students simply cannot see what a critical exegesis of a Scripture passage has to do with their future career in the church.

In short, a technical approach tends to dominate whenever the teaching of future ministers is severed from a Theological Encyclopedia informed by a theology of the church, the laity, the ministry and the Christian faith itself. The fact is that insofar as they permit technical considerations to set their agenda the seminaries reflect the larger ecclesiastical consensus. Students, lay people and ministers all seem to view the ministry in technical terms. The Protestant laity and many of the Protestant clergy think of the successful minister as one who is able to stimulate the statistical, organizational and economic growth of a local congregation; and many students and ministers themselves want skills sufficient to help them address a sick society and alter its institutions.

Problems Beneath the Technical Problems

The technical emphasis in recent theological education has given us better pedagogies, opened up the larger society as a field for ministry, redistributed authority and power in the schools, and added new and important areas of study. Even so, the fundamental problem of the seminaries is nontechnical. It has to do not so much with pedagogies, strategies and skills as with the question of what it means to be a church and a minister in the church; and this question in turn forces us to consider the very nature of Christian existence individually and socially.

Any descriptive account of the generic features of life in the church discloses a community which reflects a past, a tradition, and possesses an accumulated social memory (if not a corporate consciousness) along with attendant communal structures and language. At the same time the church is a community of the present, so that the inherited tradition and the social and biographical situation of the moment are always enmeshed with each other, Insofar as the tradition side retains the "gospel," it has a certain primacy over the contemporaneous side; that is, Christ should transform culture. This universal dipolar feature of the church founds a dipolar ministry which always operates on the boundary between the tradition and the "now," and must be knowledgeable of and responsible to both. Whatever special ministry he or she is engaged in, the minister always works at the intersection of tradition and situation, of historic faith and contemporary world. Both the Word-oriented churches and the sacrament-oriented churches are specific aspects of this intersection.

The most prominent feature of the church situation today is the tensions and contradictions between past pieties and present modes of life and thought. These include specific tensions between actual modern life styles and antiquated religious imagery, between congregation-oriented lay people and world. or society-oriented clerics, between socially conservative, individualistically oriented churches and socially liberal, socially oriented schools, students and denominational leaders. The resulting alienations affect the church by eliminating its essential dipolarity of faith and world -- that intersection which is the focal point of ministry. The "liberal" theological schools, while they have in some sense addressed these alienations, have approached them technically in that they simply developed more or less autonomous disciplines to affect the church rather than ways of preparing the minister to function at the intersection of a historic faith and an ailing Christendom. Thus they have failed to solve their deepest problem. The failure is a theological one which can be understood only against the background of the distinctive heritage of these schools: the "progress," so to speak, that they represent.

A Case for Theological Progress

It may seem audacious to speak of "progress" in theological schools in a day of repristination, failure of nerve, and laments about the poverty of liberalism. Yet, thanks to several centuries of theological, biblical and historical gains, the nonconservative schools have created an intellectual and theological milieu of their own. On their campuses a consensus obtains -- a scheme of convictions about human beings, history, method; the Bible, morality, etc. -- which, largely unformulated, is tacitly shared by all faculty members. They take it for granted that, for example, social justice is an intrinsic dimension of the gospel, that merely juridical or legalistic interpretations of God’s relation to man and the world are inadequate, that relativity attends all human decision-making.

I call this consensus a "scheme" because it is characterized by a unity that seems to have something to do with a "historical" way of interpreting the Christian faith -- "historical" not in the more restricted sense of historical method or historical criticism, but in the sense of historical consciousness; that is, a way of reflecting on things which has been some centuries in developing and which de-absolutizes religious interpretation by thinking in Contexts: sociological, political, psychological, historical. Negatively, historical consciousness represents a repudiation of all attempts to reduce God, man or nature to mere laws or structures. As such it tends to be opposed to legalistic ethics, to heteronomous formulations of God’s relation to man, to absolutistic theisms. Positively, historical consciousness represents a profound rediscovery of Scripture and its message, together with sensitivity to the social aspects of evil and injustice and a new appreciation of the human in its worldly, bodily, corporate and self-transcending dimensions. This consensus is given specific expression inn seminary areas of study: Bible, history, ethics, theology, church and ministry.

Clearly, this consensus does not amount to a creed or confession. Measured against past Protestant and Catholic confessions, it looks doctrinally thin. Nevertheless, it does represent a way of interpreting, reflecting on and living the Christian faith. And for those theological students who first knew the faith only in authoritarian, biblicistic or pietistic forms, study of it by way of historical consciousness proves a liberating experience.

Failure and Elitism

So much for the progress and possible future contribution of the nonconservative seminaries. Yet, as I said above, they have failed. Symptomatic of their failure is the fact that they have never yet -- not after several centuries of changing approaches to the study and teaching of the Christian faith -- produced a new Theological Encyclopedia. They still retain the old Protestant trivium of Bible, history and theology, to which they tack ever more courses in practical theology. Which is to say that they have yet to allow the gains of historical consciousness to govern what they do. But this is not their decisive failure.

If historical consciousness has in fact brought about a liberating way of studying and living the faith, surely it should not he kept from the churches. The Reformation’s new focus on the Bible, its redefinition of authority and its message of justification by faith addressed the whole church, not a school constituency. Contrariwise, the slow development of historical modes of thought and the understanding of the gospel in their light has been primarily a school phenomenon. Not laypeople but generations of seminary students have been on the receiving end of those modes. Seminarians study exegesis but not in such a way as to teach exegesis to laypeople. They carry on complex ethical reflection but not so as to introduce church members to a de-absolutized Christian piety.

The consequences of this unintended elitism are many. The positive aspects of historical interpretation tend to end on graduation day. Even the use of historical-critical methods of biblical interpretation in preaching is rare among graduates of nonconservative schools. Like the students, Protestant lay. people and congregations are blown to and fro by the winds of secularization, but unlike the students they have little or no experience of historical consciousness applied to faith, hence must live in a changed world by means of antiquated pieties and timeworn concepts of authority, morality and the Bible. A virtual schizophrenia between faith and world becomes normative for church members, and denial of reality the very air they breathe. Meanwhile, the layperson seems as vulnerable as ever to religious demagoguery, to the ideological manipulation of religion, to fundamentalistic "proofs" of this and that, to absolutistic ethics.

In my opinion, historical consciousness affects the interpretation of the Christian faith in a more far-reaching way than the Reformation affected Catholic Christianity. It is therefore something of an anomaly that such liberating and transforming modes of, interpretation remain an elitist phenomenon. In short, the failure of the nonconservative seminaries is that the interpretation of the faith by historical consciousness was never translated into the practice of ministry -- because it was never taught in such a way as to be translated.

Can Historical Consciousness Transform?

Instead of teaching their own positive convictions, which can help overcome a dehumanizing orthodoxy and so transform the life of the church, these schools seem to think that they will transform society and church by offering this or that course in urban studies, by relocating the setting of education to the places "where people live," and by increased field experiences. To go beyond these primarily technical approaches, the schools must do at least two things, which require new self-appraisals.

First, they must do whatever is necessary to consolidate the real "gains" represented by historical consciousness. It should be clear at this point that these gains are not "liberal theology" or "liberalism" but deep, underlying ways of reflecting on history, man and nature which include both methodologies (e.g., historical criticism, phenomenology) and content (e.g., man as a self-transcending being who resists all heteronomous authority).

Second, the seminaries need to address the pedagogical problem which arises once historical consciousness informs school self-consciousness. What would be involved in teaching seminary students -- assuming that the seminary’s goal is its graduates’ success in importing historical consciousness to Christian congregations? Nowadays a socially liberal student, outraged over the injustices of our society and the legitimating role the churches play in them, charges into a pastorate armed with an activist gospel. Soon he experiences resistance, frustration and career crisis. He has forgotten that his own social views were formed over many years, and were given religious and intellectual confirmation by what we are calling the historical approach to the Christian faith. The issue is partly a strategic one, a question of an agenda for a particular ministry. But more important is that the discrete region of Christian social action has foundations in a certain way of interpreting the Christian faith, a way which is native to theological schools and for the most part foreign to Protestant congregations.

In a nutshell, theological schools can provide solid and effective professional education only if it is clear to the students that their school studies and experiences are pertinent to their future ministry. There is widespread doubt about this today. Stressing the relevance of a given course or discipline to the modern world, putting more emphasis on psychological and sociological studies, or locating students in field situations, while important, will not solve the problem. All three of these strategies presuppose what in fact is not there; namely, the conviction and confidence on the part of: the student about the way the Christian faith can and should work in the life of a congregation. To solve its central problem as a professional school, the seminary must find some way to unify what it has to say to the churches, must make this clear to the student without letting the message get lost among dispersed areas of study, and must devise effective pedagogies aimed finally at the life of the church.