Chapter 7: The Call to Costly Obedience (Matthew 16:24-28)

Then Jesus told his disciples, "If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit a man, if he gains the whole world and forfeits his life? Or what shall a man give in return for his life? For the Son of man is to come with his angels in the glory of his Father, and then he will repay every man for what he has done. Truly, I say to you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the Son of man coming in his kingdom."-Matthew 16:24-28

By his works and words Jesus blazed a perilous path for others to follow. He determined to go to the capital city of Jerusalem at a time when public humiliation and execution were high probabilities. Over him, as he went, hung the shadow of the cross. In his day the cross represented what the gallows, the firing squad, or the electric chair represents to us. And he said to Peter and others who would be his disciples, "If any man would come after me, let him . . . take up his cross and follow "

Jesus calls us to costly obedience. Discipleship comes with a price tag shaped in the form of a cross. To follow him is to set foot on that blazed trail that leads to the city where the powers of destruction are lodged.

Where that trail forks off from the main road, there is a well-worn sign; it reads Prophetic Alternative. We have said Jesus blazed a trail; it might be more accurate to say he reopened a trail that had been closed for a long, long time. For the way of costly obedience was once well known in Israel; it was known to Moses, Samuel, and Isaiah. The trail is called prophetic because of its linkages to those great prophets; it is called an alternative because it offers a clear choice. It leads away from another path laid down in scripture.

Prudential Morality

The broad highway from which the trail branches off is the Path of Prudential Morality. It was also well known in Israel . It is the way of life most fully described by the book of Deuteronomy, by many of the Psalms, and by the Wisdom literature. It comes in full and direct expression in Psalm 1 (vs. 1-3):

Blessed is the man

who walks not in the counsel of the wicked,

nor stands in the way of sinners,

nor sits in the seat of scoffers;

but his delight is in the law of the LORD,

and on his law he meditates day and night.

He is like a tree

planted by streams of water,

that yields its fruit in its season,

and its leaf does not wither.

In all that he does, he prospers.

According to the author of this psalm, God is a rock upon which to build a secure, long, and productive life. Do you wish to be healthy? Live long? Have many grandchildren? Enjoy the best the world has to offer? Go to your grave in peace? Then obey the law of God; seek those affairs that make for law and order and peace and honor among men. Along the Path of Prudential Morality are signs that promise: Take care to obey God's law and God will take care of you. Like a drumbeat accompanying a melody, the words are sounded again and again in Deuteronomy: "Therefore you shall keep [God's]... commandments, .. . that it may go well with you,.., and that you may prolong your days" (Deut. 4:40).

That point of view is well represented in the Bible. It comes to expression also in the Wisdom literature:

Honor the LORD with your substance

and with the first fruits of all your produce;

then your barns will be filled with plenty,

and your vats will be bursting with wine.

- Proverbs 3:9-10

We all ought to be familiar with this path. It is one our generation has beaten smooth. It is represented in our day by liberal arts colleges, the Masons, Rotary, life insurance, Religion in American Life, the Anti-Defamation League, the League of Women Voters, Reader's Digest, the Jaycees, the Pro-Choice Movement, Robert Schuller, the WCTU, Common Cause, savings banks, the Moral Majority, William Buckley, the Institute for Religion and Democracy-and many preachers of the mainline denominations.

These institutions and individuals-and others like them-represent what Reinhold Niebuhr called "the nicely calculated more-or-less of prudential morality." For what is the basis of their appeal to the average man and woman? They appeal to the instinct that is in all of us to opt for a good life, for a better world, for the most pleasure for the most people.

Writing of life in Amarillo, Texas, A. G. Mojtabai says in Blessed Assurance (pp. 100-101), "The notion of some sort of quid pro quo between prosperity and piety as an index -- -an outward and visible sign of righteousness -- is widespread and long preexistent in Amarillo and the nation. 'God's dynamic laws of prosperity,' as Rev. Dick Marcear, pastor of Amarillo's prospering Central Church of Christ, likes to call them, have a distinctly contractual cast." Pastor Marcear knows his scripture; prudential morality is indeed biblical. One can appeal to the Bible if one wants to make a case for this kind of way of picturing the good-read "godly"-life.

Prophetic Alternative

However, there is another pathway laid out in the Bible. It is a way of life that by no means guarantees health, long life, prosperity, or even happiness. It is the way of costly obedience. It is foreshadowed in the preaching of the prophets of Israel, most especially the Servant Songs of Isaiah. It comes to full expression in the cross of Jesus of Nazareth. However, there are a number of places in the life of Israel when there was a foreshadowing of Jesus' choice of the cross. Here are three of them.

When the people of Israel were suffering slavery and oppression in Egypt, God appeared to Moses in a burning bush and summoned him to go to Egypt to be a liberator. Moses rightly perceived the deadly danger of opposing the pharaoh, surely one of the most powerful rulers on earth. He tried desperately to avoid God's call. What prudent man puts his head in the mouth of a lion? And yet Moses went down into Egypt.

When the children of Israel were wandering in the desert, many of them grumbled against the foolishness that brought them there. They remembered fondly the melons and leeks eaten in Egypt. Fruits and vegetables enjoyed in bondage seemed better than hungering as free men and women in the Sinai desert! Their leader, Moses, held out only a wilderness journey with a promise that somewhere up ahead for some of them, someday, there would be a Promised Land. To follow the vision of Moses -- which led through a dry and thorny desert -- or to return over a well-beaten path to the melons and leeks of Egypt -- -these were the alternatives open to them. It is hard to see how a prudent man or woman would not turn back to Egypt. And yet they turned their backs to Egypt and went on.

When those Israelites who survived forty years of wilderness wandering had finally settled in the Promised Land, they found it no Garden of Eden. They were continually harassed by stronger, better-armed tribes. In desperation, the elders went to the prophet Samuel and asked for a king, such as other people had. A king, they reasoned, could organize a defense against their enemies. It was prudential morality of the highest sort. Who does not have a right to defend himself or herself against lawless elements? And yet Samuel tried to dissuade them, pointing out that God was their king; God would protect them. Furthermore, an Israelite king would conscript their sons into the army and make servants of their daughters and raise their taxes. But being prudent men and knowing that there is a price to be paid for freedom, they did not listen to Samuel; they insisted on a king. This was a choice with fateful consequences; it was the monarchy that proved their downfall.

The richest metaphors of the Prophetic Alternative are in the book of Isaiah. This prophet and those associated with him saw that the call of God to Israel was not to recover the glory of kings David and Solomon but to be a Suffering Servant among the nations. Not prosperity and long life was God's way for Israel, but suffering for righteousness' sake, a nation rejected and despised by the rulers of this world

For he grew up before him like a young plant, and like a root out of dry ground;

he had no form or comeliness that we should look at him,

and no beauty that we should desire him.

He was despised and rejected by men;

a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief;

and as one from whom men hide their faces

he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

-Isaiah 53:2-3

The Prophetic Alternative comes to full expression in the ministry and example of Jesus. The most explicit statement of it is Matthew 16:24-28, where Jesus warns that anyone who follows him must risk crucifixion. "To '' lose one's life for Jesus' sake' means to risk life, to the point of death, in order obediently to witness to Jesus and his gospel" (Hill, p. 265).

The trouble with the Prophetic Alternative, as Jesus pointed out to his disciples, is that it is imprudent. It is fraught with risk. It most assuredly involves one in suffering, in a clash with the principalities that "bear the sword" (Rom. 13:4), with those "rulers of this age ... [who] crucified the Lord of glory" (1 Cor. 2:8). The cross that Jesus invites his disciples to shoulder is a literal cross; it is the public rejection and torture and death that await those who take up, with Jesus, the cause of God's righteous rule in the earth!

If you chose this alternative, which is to stand with Jesus for God's righteous rule in this world and against all those principalities and powers that perpetuate injustice, you gamble everything dear. You chose a risky path, one that will lead most certainly near, if not to, what the cross represented for Jesus: rejection, public humiliation, and death. Ask Martin Luther King, Jr., who said from Reidsville State Prison in Georgia, "This is the cross that we must bear for the freedom of our people." Ask Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who was imprisoned for his part in the plot to overthrow Adolf Hitler; he wrote of "costly grace." ....Ask Dom Helder Camara, Brazilian bishop and leader of the nonviolent movement for democracy in Latin America. He said, "We shall not walk on roses, people will not throng to hear us and applaud, and we shall not always be aware of divine protection. If we are to be pilgrims for justice and peace, we must expect the desert." Ask any martyr of our day or other days. They will tell you of the terror of inviting the wrath of those earthly rulers who have the power to imprison and execute.

What each of those just named had to forsake in obedience to Christ is Prudential Morality, the attempt through careful choices of good over evil to secure their lives and their place in God's favor. And that is just the choice that Jesus presents to all who would be his disciples -- to leave the broad and well-traveled way for the difficult and narrow way of costly obedience. His call to costly discipleship does not come to people who are playing bridge or drinking beer in a tavern or potting flowers or are otherwise pleasantly engaged. His call to take up the cross comes to those who are busy trying to secure their lives against the threat of death and meaninglessness.

A Great Reversal

What we have in Matthew 16:25 is a Great Reversal: "For whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." Where is the reversal? The normal perception of the godly life is of persons taking thought for doing good in order that they may prosper. Do you recall the question put to Jesus by the rich young man? "Teacher, what good deed must I do, to have eternal life?" One could write a history of the world's religions in terms of that question and the various answers people have given to it. Jesus' answer is the one of costly obedience: "Go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me."

What Jesus offered to the rich young man, whose feet were firmly fixed on the path of Prudential Morality, was the Prophetic Alternative. Jesus said, in effect: If you continue to try to secure the favor of God through good works and the like you will not secure your life, you will lose it; that path leads to extinction. If you really want to find or secure your life, follow me. Seek God's kingdom. Join the movement for God's peace and justice-and God will give you eternal life as a gift!

What Jesus offered for the young man's consideration was another form of the appeal of the apostle Paul to faith rather than works: If you seek through good works to secure the favor of God, you only condemn yourself; the law becomes an implacable judge. But if you throw yourself on the mercy of God in Christ, you are born again into a new existence.

But we must not get too far away from Jesus' words, "Take up [the] cross and follow me." He called the disciples to commit themselves to his kingdom enterprise at the risk of being crushed by the powers that be. In Jesus' time, that risk was properly and graphically represented by a wooden cross. "It was an Oriental form of torture and death, adopted by Rome for slaves and rebels, but not for Roman citizens. By holding before his disciples the most horrifying and shameful type of death, Jesus stresses that no sacrifice can be too great simply to 'follow me'" (Meier, p. 114).

What is a proper and graphic representation in our generation for the cross? Falling into the clutches of a Central American death squad? Imprisonment? Solitary confinement? A firing squad? Torture in a "dirty war"? A Korean friend of mine was given the airplane torture by the Japanese during World War II. In an effort to get him to deny his Christian faith, they stood him on a table, tied his arms behind his back with a rope hanging from the ceiling, and then kicked the table away. I have an Indonesian friend whose Presbyterian minister father was imprisoned and shot by the Japanese during World War II as an enemy of the state.

I cite those examples, not to point the finger at any particular government but to demonstrate that taking up the cross is not something limited to the first century. It is required of Christians in every generation.

There is a sense in which all Christians are called to demonstrate their willingness to deny themselves and take up the cross. We call the Lord's Supper a sacrament. The word "sacrament" comes from a Latin word that was used for the oath of loyalty that a Roman soldier took to the emperor. A soldier took a sacramentum to serve the emperor faithfully, even unto death. In a similar way, when we drink the cup and eat the bread of the Supper, are we not "remembering the Lord's death" until he comes again? Are we not testifying that his kind of life leads to death on the cross? Are we not renewing our vows to be faithful to him until death?

It seems altogether fitting that one of the Christian martyrs of our time, Archbishop Oscar Romero, received a bullet in the heart just as he was about to pronounce these words of the Mass from behind the altar of the Chapel of the Divine Providence in San Salvador: "This is my body given for you."

It cannot be said often enough that the cross in Jesus' call is a literal cross; it is public execution. Dietrich Bonhoeffer was hanged for his participation with other Christians in the plot to assassinate Hitler and end the Nazi terror..... It is that "cross" that is meant in Jesus' call -- not just any suffering that happens to befall Christians, like ulcers, a bad marriage, or death on the highway at the hands of a drunken driver.

The first martyrs of the Christian church in Uganda were young pages at the court of the king. When they were about to be burned alive for their faith, each was asked to name the charge against him. Each said, "For following Christ." They understood what Jesus meant when he said, "If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me."

Taking up the cross has become widely used to describe all manner of human difficulties. "Time on the cross" is what some call service in the British governance of Northern Ireland. Sometimes Christians, in trying to find meaning in a physical handicap or a loss of income, will say, "That's just my cross; I'll have to bear it." One needs to say gently to such folk, "No. That is not your cross. It may be a thorn in the side, but it is not a cross."

We must not allow the cross of Jesus to be devalued, to be privatized by such talk. Jesus did not die in a plane crash, or by catching a fatal disease, or from cancer, or in a fall off a mountain. He was put to death by the combined will of the religious authorities, the populace, and the forces of law and order -- what the Bible calls "principalities and powers." And to follow Jesus, to become part of his movement for peace and righteousness, means to risk the wrath of those principalities, who have it within their power to do to us what they did to Jesus. "As goes the Master, so goes the disciple" (Meier, p. 187).

Even if we were strongly inclined to understand "take up his cross" to refer to shouldering some personal deprivation or disability, the text of Matthew would not allow it. For appended to the call to cross-bearing is this warning: "For the Son of man is to come with his angels in the glory of his Father, and then he will repay every man for what he has done. Truly, I say to you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the Son of man coming in his kingdom" (Matt.16:27-28).

The "Son of man," whom Christians understand to be Jesus in his risen power and status, is clearly both a ruler and a judge. "The reason why disciples must follow in the way of sacrificial living is that there is a coming judgement" (Hill, p. 265). In the Old Testament a judge was not so much someone who handed out sentences as one who judged between parties to set things right. When the Son of man comes, he will put things right; he will establish the kingdom of peace and righteousness that is promised in the prophetic literature of the Old Testament. The Son of man will judge the judges of this world and overrule the rulers; he is clearly a political as well as a religious figure. It is in behalf of this Jesus that we are called to "take up the cross," which rather clearly cannot mean anything but what we have understood it to mean in this chapter. It is to risk danger and death at the hands of the judges and rulers of this world.

This is one of the most difficult concepts in scripture for Americans to understand. We find it hard to get it into our heads and hearts that "government of the people, by the people, and for the people" might act against the cause of Christ, might subvert peace and justice, might put national security ahead of justice. We still have not learned the lesson of Vietnam; democratic governments are not necessarily more moral than oligarchies or totalitarian governments; they are capable of cruel self-deception. They are, as M.Scott Peck describes in People of the Lie, capable of evil.

Several questions hang in the air, begging for answers. One has to do with world-denying religions like Buddhism. They call upon adherents to give up the attempt to live according to desires and appetites and pleasures -- to save the soul by denying the body. Isn't that a possible meaning of "take up his cross"? Or at least of"deny himself"? Not in a Christian context. We believe that God made the world good, that God wills goodness and life for humankind. To deny ourselves in that sense would be a denial of the very God in whom we believe.

The other question that hangs in the air is this Why should anyone be crazy enough to take such a risky path? Why not take one's chances with the Path of Prudential Morality, trusting that God will reward good and decent behavior? Ah! But Jesus' promise is that the Son of man, when he comes as God's judge, will not look upon things that way. When the judge comes-who is also the crucified one-he will ask, Why did you try to secure your own life through good works, when I paid the price of my life to secure yours? Was it for nothing that I died for you? Could I have done it by being reasonable? Moral? Decent? Kindly? If at the heart of God there is a cross, there must be a cross in the heart of those who would love and serve God. Think about that-the rest of your life.

The message of Jesus' cross is clearly this: One died and suffered for all; no one need pay for his or her sins; misery in this life is not punishment for wrongdoing. And the reverse is equally true: There is no promise that if we suffer patiently and cheerfully from our disabilities or accidents, God will reward us. Such sufferings are a part of our lot as humans. The question Jesus puts to each of us is not, Will you accept cheerfully and patiently whatever suffering life brings you? Rather, it is, Will you heed my call to work for justice and peace, even if that brings you into conflict with the judges and rulers of this world, who have the power to put you to death?

Let us take as our model for Christian discipleship Edith Stein. She was a German Jew who was converted to Christianity and became a Roman Catholic nun. When World War II came, she was hunted down by the Nazis and taken to a concentration camp -- Auschwitz -- where, until she was gassed, she busied herself with comforting and consoling the other internees. Edith Stein reminds us both of the demand of Christ and of the awful face of the state when it pretends to act in the national interest.

Edith Stein was a Carmelite nun. Lest we think all martyrdom is at the hand of right-wing states, we do well to remember the fate of those nuns whose death at the hands of the French Revolution is chronicled by Poulenc in his opera Dialogues of the Carmelites. In the final scene of the opera the small band of nuns is on stage, singing the praises of Christ. One by one they are led to the guillotine, which is offstage. The audience hears the awful whomp of the blade-and one less singer. Finally there is a single nun, who goes swiftly and gladly, still singing, to her fate. The opera is based on history; there was a convent of nuns who were executed by the leftist revolution for being enemies of the people.

Each Generation

To each generation the call to take up the cross comes in a different way. It is much easier to look back with hindsight to other generations and their call than it is to hear Christ's call in our day. In the PBS version of Goodbye, Mr. Chips, in the year 1916 a student chooses to go to prison rather than serve in a war he has come to believe is wrong. He does this in defiance even of the saintly Chips, whom he dearly loves.

In 1934 the Confessing Church in Germany took a stand against Hitler when the majority of Christians supported his new regime.

When as a child I visited Korea in 1935, I heard the missionaries of the Presbyterian Church debating the so-called Shrine Controversy. The colonial overlords of Japan demanded that all Korean schoolchildren go to the Shinto shrines and bow to the emperor. Some missionaries saw that as idolatry; others thought it wise to do what the rulers asked and call it a patriotic gesture.

In the 1960s in the United States the early protesters against the war in Vietnam found their parents and pastors hostile to their views.

As we look back, it may seem to us rather easy to discern the will of Christ. However, it must have been extraordinarily difficult for those folks to make choices.

What are the issues and causes in the remainder of the twentieth century that call us to the cross? The Sanctuary movement? The struggle against Soviet imperialism? Resistance against our government's policy in Central America? Opposition to nuclear armaments? The fight against racism? The war on drugs? The struggle for gay rights? The battle for the environment? Whatever the issue, we may be sure of this: It will be costly. When the call comes, we must remember the words of Jesus: "For what does it profit a man, to gain the whole world and forfeit his life?"

Chapter 6: The Call to Extend the Family (Matthew 12:46-50)

While [Jesus] was still speaking to the people, behold, his mother and brothers stood outside, asking to speak to him. But he replied to the man who told him, "Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?" And stretching out his hand toward his disciples, he said, "Here are my mother and my brothers! For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother, and sister, and mother."-Matthew 12:46-50

Jesus ducked a meeting with his mother and brothers; he said that his disciples were mother and brother enough for him. In resisting the claims of his relatives, he illustrated a contemporary quandary of ours. In designating his disciples as his extended family, he provided us with a solution to that quandary. The quandary may be stated as a question: Who is my true family? The solution may be stated as follows: In family matters, our Christian calling is to be loyal to the extended family of the faithful.

Many people today share nagging life concerns: Who am I? Where did I come from? The questions are not asked by adopted children only; they have become the questions of the larger society. In a mobile, rapidly changing, always moving culture, it isn't easy to keep a firm grasp on one's identity. Identity crises are as catching as the common cold! And so the question, Who is my real family? becomes more than curiosity about one's genealogy.

When we have read the incident in Matthew 12:46-50, questions linger in our own minds: Who is my true family? Who has claim to the time, attention, energy, money, and prayers that naturally belong to my blood relatives -- the father who sired me, the mother who nursed me, the brothers and sisters who share the same genes? Many come in the guise of mother and sister and brother, demanding that we turn aside from what we are doing and honor their demands. Not just two or three people clutch at our sleeves and claim the rights of mother and siblings; there is a host of them! Sects, tribes, churches, states, corporations, cultures, classes-each ask that we recognize a bond that is as strong as blood. In no particular order of priority or importance, they are as follows:

There are those groups that for want of a better name we call sects or cults: They are what Eric Hoffer calls "true believers," who would meld us into themselves in a bonding as intimate and permanent as the biological family. The Moonies -- members of the Unification Church -- are such a group, and they have many counterparts that have not earned the Moonies' questionable reputation. The great appeal of true believers is that they offer to be our surrogate family. They promise-particularly to the young adult-more than the grudging acceptance based on duty and blood of the natural family. Home with them is more than Robert Frost's "'place where, when you have to go there they have to take you in." They offer the warmth and intimacy that many recall knowing as infants with their mothers; they offer the authority and value strength many can remember honoring in their fathers. And to the young adult they offer these things at the same time that they offer a chance to leave the nest and make a break with the biological family. In Habits of the Heart the authors say of our American culture, "However painful the process of leaving home, for parents and for children, the really frightening thing for both would be the prospect of the child never leaving home." The sect or cult offers a double benefit: You can leave home without giving up family; we will be your family.

The church, as represented in the mainline denominations, makes a similar offer to the individual, although mainline churches are in the front ranks of those who despise and fear the cults. In the rhetoric of the churches are considerable references to the Christian fellowship as family. Congregational programs are shot through with references to "our church family." It is certainly no accident that the titles of Father, Brother, and Sister have found their way into ecclesiastical language. If you asked a sampling of church members to pick one metaphor to describe their relationship to a congregation, you would find many using the term "family." And if you asked the average church member what he or she wished his or her congregation to be more like, it would again be the family metaphor that would come forth.

This use of the metaphor of the family to designate the church gets support from theologians. John P. Meier writes (p. 140), "For [Matthew] the church is the family of God, incorporated into the communal life of the Godhead through baptism."

The list of groups claiming to be one's true family is a long one, and no great purpose is served by being exhaustive. But the following claimants deserve some mention, however brief. The race or tribe makes its claim; "we white folks," "we black folks," are phrases used to command loyalty, as though racial bonds had a right to demand allegiance similar to those of the biological family.

While the nation-state does not claim to be our extended family, it often lays claim to the family as one of its essential building blocks. The subtle suggestion is that the family finds its reason for being in the larger entity. National leaders are prone to appeal to the family as essential to the well-being of the nation. In his commencement speech at Howard University in 1965, Lyndon Johnson said, "The family is the cornerstone of our society. More than any other force it shapes the attitudes, the hopes, the ambitions, and the values of the child." In his State of the Union message in 1985, Ronald Reagan proclaimed, "As the family goes, so goes our civilization."

Then also there is the claim of the corporation -- broadly understood as any body that supplies us with a workplace, a work life, and income. This may be a literal corporation, such as IBM or GE; or it may be a body like the CIO or AFL, the presbytery, the board of education, the Department of Defense, the state legislature, Lincoln High School, the Pittsburgh Pirates, or the Second Platoon. For his book The Good War, Studs Terkel interviewed a number of World War II infantrymen. They said they fought not so much for honor or cause or even country as they did for their buddies; not to let the guys down-that was the most important thing in their lives as soldiers. Many confessed that when they got home their feelings of loyalty to spouses and parents were never as strong as their feelings for their fellows in the Second Platoon.

A Familiar Tug-of-War

Most of us have known what it is to be pulled in opposite directions by those claiming to be our family. Whether one is caught in a tug-of-war between a religious sect and one's parents, between the demands of the workplace and the claims of wife and children, or between the love of fellow soldiers and the love of wife and parents, the strains are very real. We can empathize with the dilemma faced by Jesus in the incident described in Matthew . He was at work in the company of friends when his mother and brothers came and asserted a claim to his attention. He was caught between legitimate demands. The Fifth Commandment, "Honor your father and your mother," could not be shrugged off; neither could the command to love your neighbor, represented by the people Jesus was teaching. The dilemma is real; the solution is anything but simple.

The problem of family loyalty is compounded in our generation by the breakup -- some would call it the breakdown -- of traditional family values. The question, Who is my family? has another question that gets asked alongside it: What is a family? The traditional notion that a family consists of a father and a mother and one or more children is under serious attack. Single women argue both for their right to have children outside of marriage and their right to raise children with no father on the scene . In the winter of 1987 a nurse from Madison, Wisconsin, was interviewed on television. A single woman in her thirties, she intended to be impregnated by a friend in order that she might have a child, whom she intended to raise by herself.

This woman may not be dismissed as pathetically mistaken. Writing in God's Fierce Whimsy, a group of feminine theologians said, "We celebrate also the possibility for which we struggle: that someday all of us -- and our sisters, daughters, granddaughters, god-daughters, namesakes, and nieces -- will inhabit a world in which motherhood is fully and freely a gift and an option, available to all who desire it, whether married or single, lesbian or straight." This is in defiance not only of conventional Christian and American values but of what anthropologist Bronislaw Malinowski called "the principle of legitimacy." All cultures, he said, insist that every child shall have a recognized father. "The most important moral and legal rule concerning the physiological side of kinship," he wrote in Sex, Culture, and Myth, "is that no child should be brought into the world without a man -- and one man at that -- assuming the role of sociological father, that is, guardian and protector, the male link between the child and the rest of the community."

It is this clash between the lived experience of the human race and the values of modern radicals that made the Baby M case of 1987 such a national sensation. A woman agreed to be impregnated by the semen of the husband of another woman and to bear a child for that couple. After the baby was born, the surrogate mother could not bear to surrender the baby as promised. The case went to court and had most of America talking about it for several weeks.

We should not have been so taken by surprise. This happened in a country where in 1979, at a White House Conference on the Family, participants could not agree as to whether or not there is a societal norm that could be described simply as the American Family. Is it any wonder, then, that large numbers of persons in our society ask in all seriousness, Who is my true family? When Jesus said, "Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?" he spoke for all of us.

The Solution

However, the text in Matthew offers a solution as well as illustrating a problem. Jesus pointed to his disciples and said, "Here are my mother and my brothers! For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother, and sister, and mother." Both sentences are important. With the first Jesus set aside the claim of his mother and siblings to have first call on his time and efforts. He waved his hand at his friends and associates and named them his mother and brothers. With that one wave of his hand, Jesus relativized the claims of his biological and social family. When in the whole history of the world has one wave of the hand wiped out so many millennia of custom?

The second sentence is equally important: "Whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother, and sister, and mother." "The disciples. . . constitute the real family of Jesus... by reason of the fact that they do God's will" (Hill, p. 222). Since it is doing God's will that makes one a member of Jesus' family, it seems right to broaden the concept of true family to include all who do God's will, so that Jesus' disciples represent the whole company of the faithful-past, present, and future. It is to this great company that Jesus owes family loyalty. It is to them he appeals for freedom from the immediate demands of blood kinship.

"Whoever does the will of my Father in heaven" is a tent under which a large company may be assembled. Who, in biblical terms, has a right to be under that tent? Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob and Rachel, surely; if the patriarchs and matriarchs don't belong there, who does? Also under the canopy belong the prophets who spoke Yahweh's word: Samuel, Huldah, Amos. And surely David, who was a king after God's heart. We would also want to name the faithful listed in the New Testament: Mary, Peter, and Paul. Nor would we want to omit from our list those whom we name as our forebears in the church: Augustine, Aquinas, Catherine, Theresa, Calvin, Luther, Witherspoon, Knox. We all need to make our own lists; any attempt to make a complete one will surely leave out some who ought to be there. When you make your roster, don't forget such modern saints as Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Dorothy Day.

When we are pressed to choose or value or take a stand on the basis of true family, it is this company of the faithful to whom we owe our loyalty. Their claim on us is stronger than the claim of our biological parents and siblings. It is their opinions and acceptance that we must value above all other group pressures or pulls.

The earliest Christian writing said to be by a woman is the diary of Perpetua, a citizen of Carthage. With others who refused to worship the Roman emperor, she was imprisoned during the persecutions of A.D. 202-203. She refused to heed the pleas of her father, who visited her in prison and urged her to compromise her stand. She gave up to her father her newborn son, whom she had been nursing in prison, choosing to surrender her role as mother rather than submit. In her diary she describes her appearance before the governor: "[He] said, 'Have pity on your father's grey head; have pity on your infant son; offer sacrifice for the emperor's welfare.' But I answered, 'I will not.' Hilarion asked, 'Are you a Christian?' And I answered, 'I am a Christian.' " Our Christian calling is to listen for voices like that of Perpetua and be faithful to them.

There is a corollary to this. In family matters our loyalty can never be to ourselves, to our individual self-interest, to conscience, or even to God alone. That is a modern heresy that has deluded millions into rebellion or submission. Our culture insists that adolescents learn to define themselves over and against their parents. We teach young people that they are to throw off the parental yoke and assert their individuality. Sometimes this cultural demand gets translated into a moral demand and is given religious sanction. But in the terms of what we have learned from Matthew 12:46-50, the choice is never between the family and me; it is always, in family matters, between families. The question in family matters is never: Shall I be loyal to the family or to myself? It is always: Who is my true family? And the scriptural answer is: Your true family is the company of the faithful, the saints with whom you have communion.

Honor Your Father and Your Mother

To be loyal to the company of the faithful is truly to honor father and mother in obedience to the Fifth Commandment. It is not an evasion of that command; it is a fulfillment of it. It is a recognition that we have a "Father in heaven" -- to use Jesus' metaphor -- from whom we learn who is our true mother and who are our true brothers and sisters.

This is admittedly a radical, not to say revolutionary, interpretation of the Fifth Commandment. In Jesus' culture, as in most cultures of the world from the earliest days until the present, to honor one's parents meant to obey them; to put their welfare and their values and their wishes above one's own. To suggest that another group had a prior claim on one's honoring was surely a radical break with tradition. But that seems the clear teaching of the passage from Matthew. John Meier writes (p. 140), "The disciples, who have left their own families for Jesus (8:22; 10:37) are his real mother and brothers. What Jesus asked of his disciples -- the breaking of family ties -- he himself now undertakes."

In practical terms, of course, honoring the company of the faithful and obeying one's earthly parents and siblings is often one and the same thing. For who has taught us to know the faithful if not our family? Where did we learn the stories of Abraham and Sarah if not at our mother's knee? And would we indeed claim Jesus as Sovereign if our fathers had not done the same? We need to be careful not to set up a false rivalry between natural family and the company of the faithful when, in fact, such a rivalry does not often exist.

But sometimes such a rivalry does exist, and it is surely one of the most painful of all human dilemmas. When I was eighteen, I had a college friend who was the most committed Christian I had ever met. When I visited his suburban home, I was shocked to find that he and his father were at serious odds. His father, a faithful church member and a good citizen and a hard worker, could not understand his son's passion for God's kingdom. He thought his son's decision to be a minister was a waste of time and money, not to mention the young man's commitment to pacifism and socialism. When I heard my friend try to defend himself against his father, I heard echoes of the young Jesus in the temple, saying to his upset parents, "Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?" (Luke 2:49).

One of the most poignant experiences for young people growing up in our society is to espouse some cause such as civil rights or world peace -- a cause they learned to love in their home or church -- and then find that their parents are opposed to overt action on behalf of social justice. It is at best bittersweet to be forced to say to one's own parents, "Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?... Whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother, and sister, and mother."

In English literature there are three classic family matters in which persons are pressed to choose between loyalty to biological family and loyalty to some other group or norm. We have already illustrated the tug-of-war between the parent and the child who is bent on a vocational course that the parent doesn't like. That conflict is brilliantly delineated in C. P. Snow's novel, The Conscience of the Rich. The protagonists are Charles March and his father. The Marches are a wealthy family living in London in the times between the two wars. Charles, largely to please his father, launches a career as a trial lawyer, but suddenly he throws that over and starts the study of medicine. His father is outraged; he understands the decision for what it is, an act of independence. He is never reconciled to Charles's new occupation. He uses an ancient Japanese phrase to describe the feeling caused by the rupture between him and his son, "the darkness of the heart."

Another classic dilemma is that of the parent who cannot let the child become independent. In a series of novels about life in a small town in Canada, Robertson Davies tells of the plight of Solomon Bridgetower, who is tyrannized by his invalid mother. She insists that he live with her and abide by her wishes about girlfriends and all sorts of things. When she dies, she leaves her fortune tied up in such a way that Solly has to wait for years to have free use of the money. From beyond the grave her long hand reaches back to jerk him around. We can all tell stories about such relationships, in which the mother -- or some other close relative -- used blood ties as slave bracelets.

In counseling with young persons, I often found them torn between the need to be free and the need to obey. It was not that they lacked courage to rebel. (It does not seem to me that it takes courage to rebel, only a kind of willful need to self-destruct.) What they most desperately needed was a third option -- an alternative to submission or rebellion, both of which they wisely understood to be acts of folly.

The third classic dilemma -- called classic because it appears over and over again in literature and drama -- is the tug-of-war between love for one's family and love for an alien. In Fiddler on the Roof the Jewish Tevye is able to tolerate his first daughter's marriage to a poor tailor. He is able to reconcile himself to his second daughter's marrying a radical student. But he casts away his third daughter for falling in love with a Russian Gentile. In his world, there can be no kinship between Gentile and Jew.

Let us return to what our Gospel text says about such family matters. The teaching of Matthew 12:46-50 may be summarized as follows: In family matters our loyalty as Christians belongs to the company of the faithful. That is our calling. We are never to suppose that we owe absolute loyalty to any social, racial, or religious group. Nor are we to claim independence from all groups on the grounds that we have some kind of divine right to be autonomous. Rather, we are to honor our mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters in the faith. Surely this is what the writer of Hebrews intended when he wrote, "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us" (Heb. 12:1).

Chapter 5: The Call to Mirror a Ministry (Matthew 9:35-10:8a)

And Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues and preaching the gospel of the kingdom, and healing every disease and every infirmity. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, "The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; pray therefore the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest."

And he called to him his twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to heal every disease and every infirmity. The names of the twelve apostles are these: first, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother; James the son of Zebedee, and John his brother; Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James the son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus; Simon the Cananaean, and Judas Iscariot, who betrayed him.

These twelve Jesus sent out, charging them, "Go nowhere among the Gentiles, and enter no town of the Samaritans, but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. And preach as you go, saying,"The kingdom of heaven is at hand." Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, cast out demons." -Matthew 9:35-1O:8a

Are you and I called to go hand to hand with death, disease, and demons? Does God want us to revivify corpses, restore fingers and toes to those afflicted with leprosy, and exorcise evil spirits? If we read Matthew 9:35-1O:8a in the straightforward way we have read other narratives, such would be the clear implications.

As Matthew tells his story, Jesus had been doing his characteristic works of preaching and healing. There was far more work than he could do alone. So he called twelve intimate friends and empowered them to preach and heal. It seems clear enough that in Matthew's Gospel the Twelve are meant to represent the church. So it follows that you and I -- members of the church -- are likewise called and commissioned to perform marvelous works.

You will get little argument among Christians that we are called to teach and preach in Jesus' name. Then why should we not expect to follow his example in doing marvelous works of healing? For Jesus had a dual ministry: He announced the present realm of God; and, as signs and seals of the veracity of that announcement, he performed extraordinary labors of healing and exorcism. Or, if you prefer, he did works of mercy and explained their meaning by the announcement, "The kingdom of heaven is at hand." In a dramatic demonstration that the kingdom of heaven meant the defeat of the powers of evil and death, Jesus raised the dead, cleansed lepers, and cast out evil spirits.

And as is clearly stated in the passage from Matthew that is under consideration, Jesus gave to his disciples the authority to do that same dual work. It was this empowerment that turned disciples into apostles. Learners became like their Teacher, servants like their Master. Even after Jesus ascended into heaven, the apostles continued to both preach and do wonderful signs in his name. The Acts of the Apostles records a number of these, such as the healing of the lame man in the temple by John and Peter, described in the third chapter of Acts.

What of Us?

What of us twentieth-century Christians? Are we called to do the same? Are we to both preach and do miracles? Or are we to remain forever as disciples, willing to watch what Jesus did, and even tell others about it, but never ourselves to take up his ministry? Are we not members of a church that calls itself apostolic and claims spiritual descent from the Twelve? And therefore are we not, in the twentieth century, called to complete what Jesus started in the first century? If our Sovereign went hand to hand with death, disease, and demons, on what grounds do we ask deferment?

Here, at midpoint in our consideration of Christ's call, a fearful question hangs quivering in the air, a question that offends the sensibilities of cultured, reasonable people: Are we Christians called by Christ to hand-to-hand combat with the powers of death, disease, and demonology?

We cannot offer an unequivocal yes or no to that question -- not without being found to be liars. For if we say flatly yes, it must be with the full knowledge that there are no contemporary referents for "raise the dead" and "cast out demons." If we say that we are called to such marvelous works, we are affirming an imperative that is impossible for us to obey. We cannot raise corpses from coffins, nor do we believe in the existence of demons -- not the kind that invade human bodies. So if we say yes indeed, we are called to such works, it has got to be with our fingers crossed or our tongues in our cheeks.

But neither dare we offer a flat no, for then we are being false to God's word. The New Testament affirms that, in Christ, God won a victory for us over the powers of death, disease, and evil. If Christ is not somehow Sovereign of these awful powers, he is not Sovereign at all. Having confessed Jesus Christ as Sovereign, we do not want so openly to deny him. Besides, in this study of Matthew we have taken other calling narratives as imperative for us. How should we now suddenly decide to duck a call because it seems impossible to obey? Somehow we must interpret Matthew 9:35-1O:8a so as to preserve it as a calling narrative -- but in a way that makes it possible for us to obey it.

To repeat, there is no way the call to the Twelve can be heard by us exactly like other calls. For we cannot obey commands to "raise the dead" and "cast out demons." Not that these are meaningless commands. On three separate occasions Jesus is described in the Gospels as bringing back to life persons who had died: the son of the widow of Nain, the daughter of Jairus, and Lazarus. In the book of Acts, Peter raises Dorcas from the state of death. Also in the Gospels are a number of accounts of the exorcism of evil spirits -- demons, if you will.

Without denying that such things happened as the Bible describes them, still we cannot understand what it would mean today for us to "raise the dead" or "cast out demons." Such performances are not part of our worldview. Perceptions limit actions. We cannot do what we cannot imagine ourselves doing. Korean shamans may very well drive out evil spirits. But you and I do not believe in evil spirits. Who among us can imagine himself or herself acting the part of the shaman?

We can imagine others raising the dead. There is a pastor of a charismatic congregation in Seoul, Korea, who is purported to have revived his son after the child was pronounced dead. We listen to such accounts with skepticism, but we are not forced to deny them outright. Since we have heard the biblical stories of Jesus and the apostles raising the dead, we can imagine others doing so. But you and I cannot seriously imagine ourselves doing likewise.

Therefore we cannot offer a flat yes to the question: Are we called to go hand to hand with death, disease, and demons? But neither can we offer an unequivocal no -- at least not until we have explored every possible avenue of explanation. For by what right do we pick and choose among calls, heeding some and ignoring others? Does it not belong to the very nature of a divine call that it comes from beyond our limited world and demands that we go beyond the bounds of the ordinary?

So let us then patiently and carefully explore what imperative there might be for us in Jesus' call to the Twelve to heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, and cast out demons.

Avenues for Exploration

What we need is a metaphor -- a figure of speech-that will mediate between the literal meaning of Jesus' call and our contemporary understanding of the world. We find such a metaphor supplied by John P. Meier. All four of our commentators agree that the call to the Twelve was to continue Jesus' ministry in the world. But Meier supplies a liberating metaphor when he writes (p. 107), "The mission of the disciples mirrors that of Jesus in word and work." The word "mirrors" supplies the metaphor. Our words and works are to mirror the words and works of Jesus. We are not called to imitate Jesus as a child seeks to imitate a parent, nor are we called to obey him in the manner of soldiers obeying a direct order. Rather, our actions are to mirror those of Jesus.

The metaphor is suggestive: To mirror the activity of another is to respond to that person's words and actions. Jesus acts and speaks; we act and speak in appropriate response. To mirror the activity of another is also to amplify it. Before the days of radio and telegraph, messages could be flashed by mirror from watchtower to watchtower, covering great distances. Our actions serve to enlarge the ministry of Jesus across time and space. To mirror is also to reflect. A mirror does not create images, it only passes them along; a mirror can only function on borrowed light; it has no power of its own to illumine. Jesus takes the initiative; we act and speak in ways that are appropriate to his actions and words.

Once we are freed by the metaphor from a literal interpretation of Jesus' call to ministry, a number of possibilities -- at least five- -- open to us.

First of all, we may say that in our personal lives we are called upon to resist the powers of death, disease, and evil. We know from our own experience and from the arts and literature how common it is for humans to be ruled by these powers . In The Denial of Death, Ernest Becker demonstrates how much of our behavior can be described as an unconscious effort to cope with the certain knowledge that we must die. How many persons do you know whose whole lives are circumscribed by illness? To throw oneself into a personal struggle against the powers of death and disease in one's own life is a way of responding to Jesus' call to struggle against death, disease, and demons. Our personal lives -- as we struggle for health and sanity and goodness -- mirror Jesus' struggle against disease and death.

A second and more sophisticated interpretation is this: We are called to attack boldly and forthrightly the structural powers of death, disease, and evil. The fear of nuclear annihilation, under which many live, can be attacked by efforts to rid the world of nuclear weapons. Disease becomes endemic and epidemic in the form of AIDS; one can join all-out efforts to rid the world of AIDS. Racism is an obsession as pernicious and devilish as any possession by evil spirits of first-century people; we can do everything within our powers to oppose racism.

Third, we can liken the marvelous works to which Jesus called the Twelve to the heroic, superhuman efforts made by individual Christians to combat the powers of death, disease, and evil. One thinks of Mother Teresa fighting on the side of the dying in Calcutta, or William Wilberforce in nineteenth-century England taking on the slave trade, or Martin Luther King, Jr., attacking racism in America. They serve as mirrors of the Master.

There is also a fourth possibility -- that the extraordinary works to which Jesus calls his church are of the order of working for the positive values of which death, disease, and demon possession represent the negatives. One could say that Jesus calls his followers to work for life fulfillment, health, and education for all God's children. There are various ways in which the church has entered the lists on the side of humanity and fought for better health systems, schools, mental health programs, and the like.

The Fifth Possibility

None of those possibilities rules out or cancels out the others. Any or all of them may operate simultaneously. But there is a fifth possibility, which may obtain in, with, and under any or all the others. And that is the possibility that the marvelous works to which Jesus calls us are the celebration of the sacraments of Baptism and the Lord's Supper.

There are two strong hints in Matthew 9:35- 10:8a that this indeed may be the case. There is the fact that the extraordinary labors that Jesus performed-and authorized his disciples to perform-were signs that accompanied the preaching of God's kingdom. The healing miracles were not so much proofs as they were visible demonstrations. If one wanted a demonstration of what it meant that "the kingdom of heaven is at hand," one saw the dead being raised, lepers cleansed, evil spirits driven out, and persons healed of various diseases. In the activity of Jesus, God could be seen putting human affairs to rights, entering the lists on behalf of humans against their ancient enemies.

When John the Baptist sent to ask Jesus if he were indeed the One who was to come, Jesus sent back this answer: "Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them" (Matt. 11:4-5). In Jesus' ministry there was both a spoken word and an acted witness, with neither word nor deed standing alone or serving merely to illustrate or prove the other.

The entire Gospel of John is one in which word and deed (sign) are so bound together they cannot be separated. The Gospel begins with the announcement that in the beginning was the Word, and the Word came to dwell with humankind. And then the Gospel proceeds to describe the presence among us of that Word by the narration of a series of signs: the turning of water to wine at the wedding in Cana, the feeding of the five thousand, the healing of the man born blind, the raising of Lazarus.

In our interpretation of Matthew 9:35-10:8a we are making great concessions to modern perceptions; we are trying to accommodate Gospel imperatives to what we moderns can and cannot imagine ourselves doing. But that should not allow us to impose twentieth-century ways of thinking upon first-century minds. We tend to drive a wedge between word and deed. Words, we say, are mental abstractions, while deeds are concrete events. Words are not deeds; deeds are not words. We want to pry the two apart and keep them apart. But one cannot understand the New Testament if one insists on doing that. Word and deed belong somehow together; Jesus' teachings reveal the meaning of his actions; his actions explain the import of his teachings. And when one asks, What signs (acted words) did Jesus leave to his church to stand alongside the preaching and teaching? the answer that comes to mind is the sacraments of Baptism and the Lord's Supper!

Matthew 9:35-10:8a offers us another clue that the sacraments may be marvelous works that Jesus calls his church to do. There is indication that the works of raising the dead and casting out demons belong exclusively to the time of Jesus presence in the flesh. When he sent out the Twelve to do marvelous things, he charged them strictly to do such things only for the eyes and ears of "the house of Israel." They were forbidden to do them for Gentiles, even for Samaritans. These signs, it would seem, had a particularly revelatory purpose: They were, in the minds of witnessing Jews, to link Jesus with the Old Testament revelation. They were not, in other words, part of the worldwide mission of the church; other signs were to be given to serve that purpose. Therefore, we ought not expect to see in our lifetime anyone who can "heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, cast out demons." Such signs were authorized by God for a certain purpose in a certain historical era.

Some may want to argue that the Twelve got all the meat and potatoes, leaving us with pretty thin gravy! The sacraments seem a very poor shadow of raising the dead, restoring lepers, and exorcising demons. Are we then to substitute symbols for direct active intervention on behalf of the dying, the diseased, the possessed? In the place of miracles, rituals? In the place of saving acts, gestures?

If indeed the sacraments are seen as signs in the modern sense, as pointers or advertisements or indicators, then they are devoid of power. But what if we are to apprehend them as signs in the same sense that we apprehend Jesus' works of healing and resurrection as signs? What if Baptism and the Supper are inseparable from the announcement that the kingdom of God is at hand? Then they are not merely signs that can be replaced with other indicators; they may be indeed those extraordinary labors we are called to perform, as surely as the Twelve were called to raise the dead and cast out demons.

But have we just performed a magic trick? We began with Christ's call to go hand to hand with humankind's ancient foes and ended up with ... ecclesiastical rituals! Talk about a shell game! The pea was visible, but the magician made it disappear. And when it appeared, it had been turned into something else! But are the sacraments of Baptism and the Supper such a far cry from what the Twelve were authorized by Jesus to perform? For what do Baptism and the Supper signify-show forth for all to see-if not the ministry of Jesus Christ to a diseased, demon-ridden, dying humanity? Paul could speak of Christians as being "buried therefore with [Christ] by baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life" (Rom. 6:4). Baptism is a sign of cleansing and restoration. In Jesus' time lepers were outcasts, unclean persons who needed to be cleansed to be reincorporated into the people of God. In Christian understanding, Baptism is not only a washing with water; it is our anointing with the Spirit of God, in which God's Spirit comes into our lives to replace or displace other spirits. And the Supper is a showing forth of Christ's death until he comes again, a foretaste of eating and drinking in the kingdom, where death and disease and evil have been banished once and for all.

Extraordinary Labors

Some may be moved by this interpretation of Matthew 9:35-1O:8a to wonder out loud, If that is true, ho hum! The priests have once more gained the upper hand; it is only what the priests do in the sanctuary that really matters; nothing in the world outside has changed; people go on getting sick and dying and fighting with drugs and alcohol possession and being shunned for various forms of uncleanness. But not to worry! The church celebrates the sacraments. And it is marvelous in God's eyes.

That is a fair comment and deserves a response. Note that Matthew indicates that the marvelous works were given to the whole church. That is what the Twelve represent. It is the whole church that carries on the ministry of Jesus, not just an ordained priesthood. If the sacraments seem to have no power, could it be because they have been given over by us to a priestly class-and have become signs of the power of those priests rather than signs of the power of God over death, disease, and the devil?

If we see the sacraments as mere rituals, is that not a failure of the church to keep word and sign together? It would seem from our interpretation of Matthew 9:35-10:8a that the two are not to be separated, that they become powerless if disjoined. There is no way to prove, historically, that where the church has been equally vigorous in preaching the word and celebrating the sacraments, there Christ has been powerfully present, demonstrating his victory over death, disease, and evil. But that is not the argument of this chapter. The argument of this chapter is that the extraordinary labors to which Christ calls his church today may well be the celebration of the sacraments of Baptism and the Supper, joined to the bold proclamation of his sovereignty over all the powers that threaten the welfare of humankind.

The King's Commendation

We might prefer that Christ called us to labors more heroic than those suggested here. But I am reminded of a favorite story from childhood. Once there was a young page who served in a king's castle. Each day the knights went forth to battle with the powers of evil; and each evening they came home, weary and wounded. And he who fought most bravely would have a special reward: On his shield would shine a supernaturally lighted cross!

One day, when the forces of evil were most threatening, the page was left alone to guard the castle, with strict instructions to let down the drawbridge for no one. During the day several came and begged admittance: a poor woman with a sick child, a beggar, a wounded knight. But the little page clung to his promise, for evil was known to wear various disguises. At the end of the day, when the knights came home battered but victorious, the king was amazed to discover that the shield of the page was the one that bore the shining cross!

You and I, like the boy in the tale, are called to duties that may not seem at all extraordinary. Off in the distance we hear the sounds of battle, where others are engaged in hand-to-hand warfare with the legions of evil. But we have our tasks. They are not always easy. Yet we too may hope for a victor's reward and the King's commendation.

Chapter 4: The Call to Secret Service (Matthew 6:1-18)

Beware of practicing your piety before men in order to be seen by them; for then you will have no reward from your Father who is in heaven.

Thus, when you give alms, sound no trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may be praised by men. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

And when you pray, you must not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, that they may be seen by men. Truly, I say to you, they have their reward. But when you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who sees in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

And in praying do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do; for they think that they will be heard for their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him. Pray then like this:

Our Father who art in heaven,

Hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom come,

Thy will be done,

On earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread;

And forgive us our debts,

As we also have forgiven our debtors;

And lead us not into temptation,

But deliver us from evil.

For if you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father also will forgive you; but if you do not forgive men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.

And when you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces that their fasting may be seen by men. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, that your fasting may not be seen by men but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.-Matthew 6:1-18

An oxymoron is a descriptive phrase containing a logical contradiction: a deafening silence, a cold fire, or, my daughter's favorite, military intelligence. To say that Christ calls us to a private piety is to venture an oxymoron. For what is piety if not a public display? A secret service of God seems a contradiction in terms. To pray only in the privacy of one's room; to be so secretive in giving to charity that the left hand does not know the right hand is writing a check; to tell no one, not even one's spouse, that one is fasting -- what kind of piety is that?

And yet that seems the clear call that Jesus issued to his disciples and, through them, to us. That which the world calls piety we are to practice in secret. There is to be absolutely no public show of praying, almsgiving, or fasting. Such things are to be treated as private matters -- as private as one's sexual conduct. There is a secret service that we may render to God, which no other need know about. Like CIA operatives in a foreign country, whose cover masks a hidden identity and a hidden task, so are we to conceal our religious practices from the world.

Among the Jews of Jesus' time, there were religious duties that one could perform above and beyond the keeping of the law; their justification was that they were pleasing to God. These were prayer, almsgiving, and fasting. These, said Jesus, were to be done as private matters; piety-the practice of purely religious duties-was to be a secret service to God.

That piety should be a private matter is a radical not to say revolutionary idea. It goes totally against the cultural grain. For traditional piety is something performed for others to see. In Roman culture, pietas referred to the public veneration of the gods. Without such a display from prominent citizens, what would happen to the traditional values that were associated with the gods? Pietas was the cultural glue, holding all things in place. How could there be law and order without it?

In our own generation we are witness to the same practice: Persons who hold public office are careful in their speeches to make occasional reference to the Deity and to be photographed going to their church or synagogue. Such utterances and practices are clearly nonsectarian. Their purpose is not to enunciate a doctrine or air a belief or bear a testimony; their purpose is to exhibit piety. We do not want our public officials to preach at us, but we do want to be assured that they are godly men and women and that ours is a society that acknowledges the rule of God.

From what Jesus says in Matthew 6:1-18 about his own society, we can assume that public displays of piety were quite common. People made a great show of praying, almsgiving, and fasting. Then, as now, it was taken for granted that one would make a show of performing one's religious duties. Men would stand in the street and offer prayers. In the synagogues announcements were made of gifts to the poor; very large gifts were signaled by the blast of a trumpet. And those who fasted cultivated a lean and famished look, that others would know the extent of their self-deprivation.

This insistence on winning public recognition for one's piety Jesus found offensive; he called it hypocrisy. He said that those who made a public show of religious duties received a very limited reward: They received the approval of others. But the reward they hoped for -- to be found pleasing to God -- would be denied them. Jesus did not condemn the practices of prayer, almsgiving, or fasting. But he disapproved of their practice as a public show. He pointed out that, like snapshots on a camera film accidentally exposed to light, they were ruined by disclosure.

The Father in Secret

Jesus' call to a secret service of God was based upon his relationship to the Father who sees in secret. Three times he promised that the person whose piety was practiced in private would be rewarded by "your Father who sees in secret." Like the author of Psalm 139, Jesus knew the One who sees in secret (v. 2):

Thou knowest when I sit down and when I rise up; Thou discernest my thoughts from afar.

This One who knows our innermost thoughts deserves a secret service.

God is not, strictly speaking, hidden from us; in Christ, God has disclosed the divine heart and intention. And yet there is also a sense in which God both knows and is known in secret. There is a private, reciprocal knowledge of God. It is to this One who knows our secret thoughts that we direct our piety.

In fact, we may infer from what Jesus says that God is secretly pleased with prayer, almsgiving, and fasting when it is done not for any approval of our fellow human beings-or even with their knowledge -- but only for the eyes and ears of God. Jesus would have applauded the woman in the legend who went about with a bucket of hot coals in one hand and a bucket of water in the other. When asked what she intended, she said, "I want to burn up heaven and put out the fires of hell so that persons will love God for God's goodness alone, with no fear of punishment or hope of reward!"

But is it possible to love God in a private way? Some may object that to approve of a secret service is to cut the vital nerve between love of God and love of neighbor . Is not the genius of both Judaism and Christianity a holy triangle, in which love of God and love of neighbor are separate but never separated activities? Did not Jesus say that we are lights in this world? Are we not to act so that others "may see [our] good works and give glory to [our] Father who is in heaven" (Matt. 5:16)? And what of the accusation that not only private but also individual piety -- prayer, alms-giving, fasting -- is a retreat from the real world? Isn't advocacy of a secret service an invitation to private religion, an avoidance of our duties to the poor and oppressed?

To those objections one needs to respond gently but firmly that such service is pleasing to the Father in heaven. The Greek word that is translated as "piety" in Matthew 6:1 is the same word that is translated as "righteousness" in 5:20. And behind that Greek word lies the Hebrew word for justice. We owe to God both a public service and a private one; one cannot slip a knife between civic virtues and the life of devotion and say that one is pleasing to God and the other is not. It may be difficult for us modern folk to see any casual connection between prayer and politics, but that is our problem! As the author of Matthew reports in this passage, God knows and sees, and that is all that matters. If one would rightly serve the unseen God, one performs acts of piety in ways that avoid being seen. For that is the only way to avoid the trap of hypocrisy. Religion has a built-in hazard: Believers are tempted to be good for the show of it. (The Greek word hypokrites means "actor.") The only way to avoid the trap of hypocrisy is to shun all public spectacles of piety. God sees in secret and rewards in secret.

This reading of Matthew 6:1-18 does not find universal agreement. Eduard Schweizer says (p. 142) that "the man who really places his confidence in God renounces all righteousness that can be judged by men, even by the agent himself, he thus escapes the notion of any accomplishment that would earn reward in the eyes of God."

But to accept that notion one has to discard all that Matthew says in 6:1-18 about rewards. Besides, as Schweizer himself points out, in Romans 2:28-29 Paul also draws a distinction between what is done for show and what is done for God. John Meier seems closer to the intent of the Gospel author when he writes (p. 57), "The stress on the heavenly Father puts the reward idea-which is indeed part of Jesus' moral exhortation-into the context of a gift a Father gives his son, and not a strict wage an employer is bound to give his employee."

Our Call to Prayer

Probably the most difficult aspect of this secret service is the call to private prayer. Jesus bid us, when we pray, to go into our room and shut out the rest of the world. We are not to pray to a public God, who is present in the marketplace and meetinghouse. The Father sees in secret; we are to pray to God in secret.

Those, then, who set themselves up as experts in prayer, who hold workshops, make a public display of a private matter. They are like radio talk-show hosts who chatter with callers about their sex lives. Normal human beings, overhearing such stuff on the public airwaves, must feel that they have blundered into someone else's bedroom unawares.

A person's prayers are a private matter between that person and God. We ought never be stopped on the street and asked about our prayer life! If you have trouble praying, go to your pastor and ask for help. But the pastor ought to be as discreet in giving advice about prayer as in advising about making love. Your pastor-no less than you-is tempted by the exhibitionism against which Jesus warned.

Besides, as Jesus pointed out, prayer is no big deal. God knows what we need before we ask, even as parents know the wants of their children. We do not need to heap up long and tiresome phrases to get God's attention or to move God to action. Prayer is simple and straightforward. Jesus gave us a model for prayer that is also a model of brevity. It consists of six terse petitions: that God's name be hallowed, God's kingdom come, God's will be done, and that we receive bread, forgiveness, and help in the face of evil. Period. End of teaching about prayer. All we need to know.

To his model, Jesus attached a promise: "If you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father also will forgive you." It is a reminder that there is no magic in the words Jesus taught us; prayer requires integrity . If we ask for forgiveness, we ourselves are to be forgiving. The rationale for that is spelled out later in the Gospel in the Parable of the Unforgiving Servant. Jesus tells the story of a servant who forfeited his king's forgiveness of a great debt because he could not forgive a fellow servant a paltry debt. And one supposes likewise that if a woman prays for daily bread, she ought to be ready to share bread with the neighbor who has none. And if a man prays to be delivered from evil, he ought to avoid leading others astray.

The Call to Almsgiving

What might it mean to give alms to the poor in such a way that one's left hand did not know what one's right hand was doing? For such is Jesus' admonition about personal charity; it is to be private, in the most strict sense. "Alms are given for the sake of the poor, not for personal satisfaction" (Hill, p. 133). Jesus gives us a negative description: One is not to insist on public recognition for one's benevolence. There is a social recognition for benefaction that is the equivalent of having one's name and donation read aloud in the synagogue, to the accompaniment of trumpets. Published lists of donors, the announcement of pledges to the church building fund campaign, the insistence on a tax write-off for a donation-all these would seem to belong to the kind of public display that Jesus decried.

Should Christians then not report on their IRS forms the amounts they have given to charity? It would seem to violate the spirit of Jesus' call; it is spiritual double-dipping. One seeks to please a generous God and act in God's likeness, responding to the needs of others with an open hand. And yet, since one can also get credit with the IRS, why not? Why not indeed?

What is at stake is the enormous temptation to demand credit-in the form of the approval of others-for faithful behavior. We were brought up to please our earthly fathers; they rewarded us when we did well; we learned how wonderful it is to get approval for good behavior. And the temptation lies close at hand to behave in the same way in prayer, fasting, and almsgiving; we like the feeling of being approved by others. But how should we need such credit when our debts have already been paid? If God has forgiven our sins, is not gratitude for such grace to displace in our hearts the demand for credit?

A first reading of Matthew 6:1-18 does indeed give the impression that there is a heavenly bookkeeping system, in which good deeds are credited in the heavenly account. Jesus speaks of faithful behavior being rewarded by the Father who sees in secret. But of course God does not keep books! If there is one lesson that scripture teaches, it is that God does not keep books, with pluses and minuses beside each name. God who is our Judge is at once and the same time our Redeemer. All accounts have been marked Paid. That is our only hope. None of us has the slightest chance of getting off for good behavior. So whatever Jesus means by rewards from the heavenly Father, it cannot be any kind of credit in God's accounting system. Rather it must mean that such actions are pleasing to God, a suitable thanksgiving to God for grace and mercy given us. Since we cannot give God anything tangible, we give alms to the poor

and needy. That God is touched and pleased by such kindness is our one and only reward!

The Call to Fasting

Fasting has nearly ceased to be practiced among us as a religious duty; it has been replaced by other forms of self-denial. One of the most common of those among us is dieting, which is largely cosmetic and therapeutic. What is there to say about it? Perhaps only this: How much happier we should all be if persons who diet would just shut up about it! Let dieting be as private a matter as prayer and almsgiving. The couplet that used to be quoted to those who quit smoking could well be modified and recited for dieters:

Giving up eating too much isn't enough,

It's giving up bragging about it that's tough.

In sum, Jesus calls us to a personal piety that is wholly private. We are to go about prayer and almsgiving and self-denial as though we were enlisted in the divine Secret Service. No one seeing us is to know that we are about such things. In fact, Eduard Schweizer suggests (p. 146), to anoint your head and wash your face when you fast is "to act as if going to a feast." In other words, to go about it in disguise. Soren Kierkegaard, the Danish theologian, has a passage in which he describes the faithful Christian: "Good heavens," says Kierkegaard, "he looks like a tax collector." To outward appearance, the Christian is no different from the most ordinary and mundane of persons.

It is not easy to let one's piety be hidden! If one has a lovely voice and sings in a church choir, the temptation is almost irresistible to let one's voice sound out above the others. "Listen to me. Is not my voice beautiful? Am I not fortunate to have such a musical instrument?" What's more, it is so satisfying to let one's golden tones ring out above the ordinary noises made by fellow singers! To know that others are hearing the same lovely voice that rings in one's own ears; what could be sweeter? But is God glorified by such a display? No, said Jesus, one does not need public validation. If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it, is there truly a sound? If one transposes that to the life of faithfulness, the answer is a solid yes. The hearing or seeing by others is not what makes our acts faithful. It is the faithfulness of God that is our validation. To serve such a One is our calling.

There will be some who will want to be rid of piety altogether, be it private or public. When Karl Marx spoke scornfully of religion as the opiate of the people, no doubt he had in mind the practices of prayer, almsgiving, and fasting; these, he said, diverted attention from matters of social justice and gave people a good conscience when their conscience ought to be troubled.

But we ought never be ashamed of the push or pull of piety. It should be enough for us that God is pleased with our prayers, our alms, our self-denial. To try to live wholly without reference to the Father who sees in secret is neither desirable nor possible. We must have our dreams, our myths, our prayers, our worship, our angels, our sacred book. A human being who has no referent outside of herself or himself is an animal, no more.

Modern films and fiction are replete with examples of persons who try to live as though there were no unseen God, and such persons have the look and smell of monsters. Our calling is not to live wholly in this world, and for this world, but to live in this world as children of the Father who sees and is known in secret -- but not to let that relationship become a matter of exhibitionism and the occasion for public approval. That is a high calling indeed!

The clinching argument for a secret service of God is Jesus' Parable of the Pharisee and the Publican, Luke 18:9-14. Jesus tells of two men who go up to the temple for prayer. One man practices the three religious virtues that have been discussed in this chapter. Not only do we see him at prayer, but he says of himself, "'I fast twice a week, I give tithes of all that I get." He is a Pharisee, a member of a religious group that strove for exemplary piety. The other man is a tax collector, whose public image is that of a corrupt official. We feel some sympathy for the Pharisee when he congratulates himself that he is not like other men -- extortioners, unjust, adulterers, tax collectors. When the tax collector beats his breast and moans, "God, be merciful to me a sinner!" we are not surprised. We can only hope that God will, in the divine mercy, soften the man's punishment.

And yet Jesus said of the tax collector, "This man went down to his house justified rather than the other." Why? For the very reason that the term Pharisee" has become interchangeable with the term" hypocrite." The effort to lead a life of public piety had made the first man self-congratulatory, self-justifying, judgmental of others.

He had fallen into the trap that we have described at some length in this exposition of Matthew 6:1-18. Perhaps the word "quicksand" would be more accurate than "trap." For the nature of piety is such that the more one struggles to live an exemplary life, the deeper one sinks into hypocrisy.

Those who are called to follow Jesus will never aspire, in their private lives, to a piety that goes deeper than the daily confession, "God, have mercy on me a sinner." They will be content to have others look and say, "Are these Christians? Good heavens, they look like tax collectors!"

Chapter 3: The Call to Perfection (Matthew 5:38-48)

You have heard that it was said, "An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth." But I say to you, Do not resist one who is evil. But if any one strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also; and if any one would sue you and take your coat, let him have your cloak as well; and if any one forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. Give to him who begs from you, and do not refuse him who would borrow from you.

You have heard that it was said, "You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy." But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward have you? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you salute only your brethren, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.--Matthew 5:38-48

In the movie Witness the central character is John Book. He is a Philadelphia policeman who is being hunted by his corrupt chief. John hides out in an Amish community. One day, dressed in Amish clothing, he goes with others to town, where the Amishmen are taunted by young toughs. Although he is told that striking back is not the Amish way, he smashes one of the bullies in the face, breaking his nose. Those watching the film find it difficult not to feel righteous satisfaction at seeing the bully get "better than he gave." However, the beating comes to the attention of the local police and leads to John's chief finding where he is hiding. The chief and his confederates invade the Amish community with guns, and the matter is not "settled" until there has been killing.

The incident reminds us of the imperfect nature of justice in a none-too-perfect world. Certainly there must be police, else the strong would prey on the weak. Certainly there must be measured retribution-an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth-else no eye or tooth would be safe. Yet the police may be corrupted (John's chief was dealing in drugs) and prey on the weak; and even "good cops" like John Book exceed the limits of the law. A smashed face is greater retribution than taunting deserves.

It is to disciples living in a world of imperfect justice that Jesus issues his call to perfection: "You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect." If you are insulted with a backhand to the face, you are not to seek retribution. If you lose your shirt in a court case, give your accuser your cloak as well. (Israelite law forbade the judge to take away a poor man's cloak; it was his only protection against the night's cold.) If a soldier in an occupying army, exercising the right of conquest, forces you to carry his pack for a mile, carry it two.

Christians are to live in society in a manner that goes beyond nicely balancing rights and sanctions, injuries and restitutions. We are to seek a perfection that lies beyond the imperfections of human systems of law and order. Our goodness must exceed that of the John Books of this world.

A Counsel of Perfection?

What are we to make of Jesus' call to his disciples to practice such radical ethics in personal relations? Some have charged that this is a "counsel of perfection," which dooms anyone who tries to follow it to failure, guilt, and endless remorse. Such critics rightly argue that the chief bar to right behavior is self-hatred. Therefore, they contend, why add to that burden by laying on human beings a demand for goodness that is clearly beyond them? For a few who hanker after sainthood, the vision of such perfection may shine like a halo. For the rest of us it looks more like a crown of thorns.

That might be a fair indictment of Jesus' demands if we understood perfection as some kind of moral purity. Jesus does indeed acknowledge that he is asking for perfection; he says at the end of the passage, "You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect." But the perfection he calls his disciples to achieve is not based on a moral ideal; rather, Jesus grounds his interpretation of the Law in God's own actions. As he says, "[God] makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust." God is not busy with vengeance on evildoers, with keeping score, with evening things up. Rather, God allows both the evil and the good to have the benefit of daily sunshine and seasonal rain.

And just as Jesus' understanding of God's perfection is not of some unapproachable holiness, neither does Jesus demand of his disciples an impossible moral purity. The term "perfect" as Jesus uses it means whole, intact, undivided. "It refers to devotion to God, not to the flawlessness of a rounded personality brought to the utmost pitch of perfection. . . . Jesus calls God perfect not because God is aloof and totally unlike man, but precisely the reverse: God is totally, undividedly devoted to man; he is faithful to his covenant; he is totally given to those he loves" (Schweizer, p.135).

What Jesus calls the disciples to do is quite well within the range of human behaviors that even you and I can manage. He does not ask them --or us -- to walk on water or turn stones into bread. He asks, rather, that when attacked we refrain from retaliation; that we not settle our disputes in courts of law; that we give to those who beg and lend to those who would borrow, and that we pray for our enemies. These are not easy things to do; but they are not impossible. "To be perfect is not the ideal of the monk; it is the obligation of every Christian" (Meier, p. 55).

Take, for example, the injunction, "If any one strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also." Gandhi built a massive political movement on the ability of ordinary persons to respond to violence in a nonviolent manner; so did Martin Luther King, Jr. If civil rights activists could march from Selma to Montgomery under the threat of dogs and cattle prods and water hoses, cannot you and I take a slap in the face without slapping back?

Let us not fudge the matter: What we have in the fifth chapter of Matthew -- as illustrated in the summons to turn the other cheek-is a call to perfection, a summons from Jesus to a kind of goodness, if you please, that reflects the very goodness of God. Made in God's image, we are to behave in a way that gives God credit for God's behavior! "God thus resembles a mold, for man's clay to conform to" (Schweizer, p. 135). Jesus calls for human behavior grounded in the actions of God. "We love, because [God] first loved us" is the way the writer of the First Epistle of John put it (1 John 4:19).

Let us be clear: Jesus' plea that we not resist evildoers is not the statement of a universal ideal or a moral principle. Rather it is what in this book we have termed a call. Like the summons to the fishermen to leave their normal occupation, the call to nonresistance is a summons to behave in a way that is not normal for human beings. For the natural instinct of us all is to strike back, to exact revenge, to get even, to keep score.

When I was a seminary student, I spent a summer as counselor at a boys' camp. We tried to give to kids who spent much of their lives on the sidewalks of New York a notion of what the new life in Christ was about, and that meant a brief devotional period after lights out. One night I gave to the fourteen-year-olds in my cabin a brief exposition of the Sermon on the Mount, including the injunction to "turn the other cheek." No sooner had I finished speaking when a potato came flying in the door and struck Rimmler on the side of the head. He leaped from his bunk and fired the potato back at the tent across the way. Thus began the Great Potato War, which raged unchecked for the better part of an hour. The natural man --or boy -- responds to a blow on the cheek by seeking to return that blow, with interest!

God displays very unhuman characteristics in allowing rain and sun to fall on the just and the unjust. What's more, God displays divine mercy in actively reaching out to pardon evil and injustice! In the eleventh chapter of Hosea, the prophet represents God as repenting of punishment that had been planned for Israel. God says:

I will not execute my fierce anger,

I will not again destroy Ephraim;

for I am God and not man,

the Holy One in your midst,

and I will not come to destroy.

-Hosea 11:9

The heart of God is not so much reflected in sunshine and rain as it is in the cross, where God literally turned the other cheek to the enemies of goodness and justice. Jesus, the obedient son, fulfilled the words of the prophet:

I gave my back to the smiters,

and my cheeks to those who pulled out the beard.

-Isaiah 50:6

If you and I want to be called sons and daughters of God, we are to act in the same way.

Our Call

Our call, then, as believers in Jesus Christ and members of his church, is to act toward others as God has acted toward us: to turn the other cheek, to offer no active resistance to evil actions. We are not to try to even the score when we are wronged; rather, we are to refuse to keep going the endless cycle of crime, revenge, more crime, more revenge. Moreover, we are to actively pray for our enemies -- those who rob us, strike us, revile us, and wish us ill.

If I am verbally assaulted in a meeting, I am not to repay in kind. If someone knocks me aside in crowding into the subway car, I am not to push back. If there is a neighbor whose dislike for me is exhibited in small annoyances, I am to pretend that nothing is amiss. Moreover, I am to pray for my enemies. Those people whom I love to hate, upon whom in my fantasies I exact such sweet revenge, I am to ask God to bless!

It is important, in discussing this highly controversial passage from the Sermon on the Mount, that we pause here to say clearly what this call of Jesus is not about: It is not a promise that if we treat others in a nonviolent way they will treat us in a similar fashion. The call is grounded not in the nature or propensity of human beings but in the behavior of God. Nor is it a command to create, through law or practice, a nonviolent society. It is not even a general rule about nonresistance to all evil. "The doctrine of absolute non-resistance to evil is not enunciated here: the issue is one of individual conduct in specific circumstances" (Hill, p. 127). It is a call to Christians, who live in a violent and revenge-filled world, to shun retaliation and revenge and to show appreciation for God's patience and mercy by showing patience and mercy.

It is also useful to put the call to nonresistance to evil in historical context. What Jesus did was to move a long step beyond the ancient lex talionis, the law of revenge, which sought to limit retaliation to proportionate degrees: only "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth." Most contemporary systems of justice are built upon a similar notion:

The punishment for a violent crime should be proportional to the offense. If a man robs me, he is to spend time in jail; he is not to be executed. If a man steps on my toe, I am entitled to an apology; not to having his foot cut off!

Jesus went beyond this ancient and honorable notion that vengeance is to be proportional to the offense. His call to his disciples was to give up the notion of the proportional response, to forswear revenge, to break the old cycle of wrong-punishment-wrong-punishment. And that was grounded on the action and character of God, not on any optimistic notion of human nature. If God lets the needed rains fall on evil and good, just and unjust, we are to behave in like manner.

Of course, one must believe that indeed God "sends rain on the just and on the unjust" alike! One could decide that God has not been playing fair with his rain and take matters into one's own hands. My wife and I were on an archaeological dig in the Southwest in which the indisputable evidence was that members of one village had killed and burned the inhabitants of a neighboring village -- and had then built their own homes upon the burned bones and charred roofs of their neighbors. The only explanation that the archaeologist could give was this: The rains had fallen unevenly upon the fields of these peoples. Those upon whose fields the rains had not fallen had decided that their more favored neighbors were practicing witchcraft; why else would some fields be blessed with rain while adjacent fields went dry?

Whenever I am angry at someone, I hope I remember those villages and what happened. It is very easy, when one is wronged, to suppose that the fault is no accident, that the person who was the agent of the hurt is himself or herself "wrong" and to let ourselves become instruments of God's justice instead of imitators of God's mercy. How quick we are to undertake to redress what God or nature has done amiss! If we are unhappy or unlucky or miserable, someone must be to blame. Almost any hurt or slight will be an excuse for violent retaliation, out of all proportion to the hurt or slight. And like the villagers on our mountain site in New Mexico, we take out after the others with vengeance. Since we are "good" and the others are "evil," nothing we can do is to be faulted. To those heavens from which rain has fallen unevenly, we cry for vengeance --and to those heavens we look for vindication for our actions.

Against this excess, to which all humans are prone, Jesus protested. Better to suffer a blow, a deprivation, an insult than to make oneself the agent of God's wrath and justice.

In Lords of the Plain, a novel about cavalry actions in Texas, Max Crawford puts these words into the mouth of the defense attorney for Comanche braves on trial for the massacre of a wagon train:

"I will now speak to you of reason and mercy, of forgiveness and understanding. I will speak to you against violence and hatred, against blind passion and brute strength. I will speak to you of vengeance and its folly. I will speak to you of wrongs begetting wrongs till there be no end to wrongs. I will speak to you of making ourselves good men, strong and gentle, who will put an end to our war and vengeance and stupid, stupid bloodshed. I will speak to you of the way we are now and of the way that we may yet be."

This plea follows a long description of the wrongs and hurts suffered by the Scots-Irish forebears of the members of the jury, and of the hurts these forebears had laid on others in return.

History is rich in examples of the futility of trying to "even the score." The current state of affairs in the Middle East is another case in point: Both Israeli and Arab have decided that the only justice to be had is "An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth." But somehow the violence returned upon the doer of violence is never quite proportional; someone innocent always gets caught in the crossfire. And that innocent one is turned into an agent of vengeance.

Not that Jesus promised that if we turned the other cheek we would create a society of nonviolence! I once stepped between two army buddies who were pounding on each other; all I got for my pains were a couple of blows to the head. Rather, Jesus seems to have seen that "an eye for an eye" does not deliver the justice it seems to promise; like the command of Moses to allow divorce, it was given men "because of their hardness of heart." But it was not grounded in the action of God, and so had to be superseded.

One might well interject that most of us -- unless we go about meddling in the quarrels of others -- are not in much danger of being slapped in the face. So should we not seek to extract from this passage in Matthew some general rules for conduct, some program of nonviolence, an ethics of pacifism perhaps?

No. Let us take the commands of Jesus as concrete, specific calls to obedience. If in the course of an ordinary day we are not struck in the face or accosted by beggars or taken to court or hit up for a loan, there are plenty of other demands on our time for faithful living! However, there is one item in the list of commands that most of us can do every day of our lives: Pray for our enemies.

When he leads persons in a study of our passage from the Sermon on the Mount, master teacher Walter Wink asks them to do the following: Bring into consciousness an enemy; conduct an imaginary dialogue with that person, in which you accuse him or her of the evil he or she seems to intend, imagining what he or she might say in response; then pray for the well-being of that person. In such a spiritual exercise, one finds oneself both nearer to God and farther from perfection than one would like! However, one finds that it is possible to pray for one's enemies. and in the act of praying, the enemy becomes more like oneself, less a threat, less a terror.

I have an alcoholic friend who was sent off for a time to a sanitarium to dry out. When he was gone, his workmates tried to get him fired; only the determined action of his wife saved his job. When he returned, he brought a violent hatred of those who had wished him harm. Although he started to pray for them, for the first month all he could do was to curse them before God. But eventually he found that he could pray for their well-being, and his rage and wrath became manageable.

In this chapter, I have dealt chiefly with one of Jesus' illustrations of what it means to "be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect." We are to "turn the other cheek" and to pray for those who persecute us. The same case could be made for the commands to give more than is demanded in a court settlement, to go the second mile, to give to beggars, to give to borrowers. These, too, are calls to perfection. The call is not confined to the areas of law and order but to all of social relationships. "Jesus demolishes all the fences into which men would confine love of neighbor" (Schweizer, p. 133).

Jesus' call to perfection is a summons to act as God acts. In matters of justice and retribution, we are to follow the example of One who is not our implacable judge but who pronounces us-the guilty ones-as innocent. As our heavenly Father is perfect, so are we to be perfect. It is the least we can do for God.

Chapter 2: The Call to Adventure (Matthew 4:17-22)

From that time Jesus began to preach, saying, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon who is called Peter and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea; for they were fishermen. And he said to them, "Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men." Immediately they left their nets and followed him. And going on from there he saw two other brothers, James the son of Zebedee and John his brother, in the boat with Zebedee their father, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him. -Matthew 4:17-22

Christianity began as a workingman's religion. No, that is not the gospel according to Marx; it is the Gospel According to Matthew. Matthew tells us that immediately after Jesus began a public preaching ministry, he took four fishermen as his apprentices. He was walking by the Sea of Galilee and spied Andrew and Peter casting their nets. He called them to follow him, promising to make them fishers of men. In Matthew's Gospel, then, linked tightly together are Jesus' ringing pronouncement, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand," and his invitation to the fishermen, "Follow me."

Matthew's narrative wastes no time in describing how the new movement grew: Brothers Peter and Andrew left their nets to go with Jesus. And as the three were going along the shore together, they came upon three other fishermen -- Zebedee and his two sons, James and John. Jesus called the two brothers also; they left their father in the boat and went with Jesus and the others. A carpenter's son and four fishermen -- that was the beginning of the Christian church, as Matthew tells the story. Quite literally, the church began as a workingman's movement.

And where the church has prospered it has, in some measure, remained a workingman and workingwoman's movement. It has kept tightly linked Jesus' pronouncement of the impending kingdom of God and the call to working people to follow him who inaugurates that kingdom.

That should not be interpreted as a partisan political statement. Long before critics invented the sociological concept of the working class there were two kinds of people in the world, those who worked for a living and those who did not. The Christian church has always done better among those who have worked for a living. When it has catered to men and women of leisure, it has gone to seed. And, like winged dandelion seed, it has been carried about by shifting winds of change, following now this fad, now that. For what have people of leisure to do but seek the latest fancy? The fate of the church that forgets its working class roots was never better described than in this poem by Elmer F. Suderman:

Here they come,

my nonchalants,

my lazy daisies,

their dainty perfume

disturbing the room

the succulent smell

seductive as hell

.

Here they are,

my pampered flamboyants,

status spoiled, who bring

with exquisite zing

their souls spick and span

protected by Ban,

their hearts young and gay

decked in handsome cliche,

exchanging at my call

with no effort at all

worship for whispering,

God for gossiping,

theology for television.

Baptized in the smell

of classic Chanel

I promote their nod

to a jaunty God

who, they are sure,

is a sparkling gem

superbly right for them.

There they go,

my in-crowd,

my soft-skinned crowd,

my sun-tanned, so-so

elegant, swellegant,

natty, delectable,

suave, cool, adorable

DAMNED!

Wherever the church allows "the kingdom of heaven is at hand" to be separated from Jesus' call to working people to follow him, the game is up. The vital nerve of the Christian movement has been severed. The positive proof of this negative judgment is the enormous appeal of Methodism to the English working classes of the eighteenth century. An Anglican church that had become the private club of landed and titled people had run out of energy. When the Wesleyans went with the gospel to working men and women, the church in England experienced a great revival.

The affinity of the gospel and of the working class lies in this: Any religion that does not get at the working core of persons will not have much hold on them. For a religion to succeed, it must in some way claim the working hours of its adherents. It must win what Wayne Gates aptly calls "the vocational heart of the person's being." Some religions, it is true, succeed precisely by helping persons forget the misery and drudgery of daily toil; but such faiths provide a means for coping with work, they do not ignore it.

It has been the particular genius of Christianity never to forget that it began as a working-man's religion. Enormous vitality has flowed from the coupling of daily work to faith in a better future. Ann Lee, who founded the movement known as Shakers, said of her conversion, "I gave my heart to God and my hands to work." From the belief of the Shakers that every daily chore was a service done unto God flowed their superb craftsmanship.

Therefore, just as it is important for Americans to face backward and to take their bearings from the Declaration of Independence, so Christians need from time to time to examine their charter. The account of the Calling of the Fishermen, standing at the very beginning of Jesus' ministry, serves as a charter for the Christian movement. Two things in particular need to be recalled about that narrative.

Work and Religion

Jesus' call to the four Galileans served to make neither a religion of work nor a work of religion. He said to them neither "Follow me, and I will make you better fishermen" nor "Follow me, and never again will you have to fish for a living." Jesus' call should not be interpreted to mean either that work has henceforth a sacred quality to it or that being a follower of Jesus is a full-time occupation that replaces the necessity to work as others do.

Some would make of the Calling of the Four a holy baptism of daily work; they would use it to mark work as sacred to Christ. Jesus called four callus-handed fishermen to be his disciples, goes the argument; therefore, work is what fits persons for the kingdom of God. Jesus came to the workplace to find disciples; those who are in the workplace stand on hallowed ground. True, there have been times in Christendom when an occupation was regarded as one's high and holy calling from God, and this account of the calling of the fishermen was used to justify that view. Housewives cooked and cleaned to the glory of God; farmers plowed to the glory of God. In effect, Jesus' call made a religion of work.

However, more often the opposite interpretation of Matthew 4:18-22 is given: All who would be truly Christian must forsake ordinary employment and become full-time workers for the Lord. Their total time and energy is to be given to making converts for the faith. Appeals to young people to enlist in church occupations -- which are described as full-time Christian service -- are based on this same text. In this view, religion becomes work. The pursuit of religious faith for oneself and of converts for the movement is regarded as the highest understanding of work.

While both notions of the proper relationship of faith and work have some validity, the story of the Call of the Fishermen cannot be used to support either view. The effect of Jesus' call was not to make Andrew, Peter, James, and John full-time Christian workers, nor was it to make daily work a sacrament. Look again at the narrative.

Jesus appears by the sea and calls to four young men to follow him. Andrew and Peter respond by abandoning-for the moment-the tools of their trade. "They left their nets and followed him." The other two brothers run off and leave their father to manage the family fishing business all by himself. There is no way to read this narrative as a glorification of work! If anything, the story teaches quite the opposite. It shows five young Galileans, under the banner of God's kingdom, going off on a lark, leaving the older folks to do their chores. Shades of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn!

But if the story cannot be used to make a religion of work, neither ought it be used to make a work of religion. "Fishers of men" clearly implies some kind of task. It is not simply to be with Jesus and enjoy his company that the four are summoned. There is a purpose in their calling; there is work to be done; there is a goal, which will require as much or more energy than hauling nets and cleaning fish.

But if the narrative serves to make neither a religion of work nor a work of religion, what is its effect? Matthew 4:17-22 gently pries apart work and faith so that work can be seen for what it is: a part of God's creation but nothing sacred in and of itself. The narrative serves as a gentle reproof of two popular misunderstandings: (1) that the life of faith is all work and no play, and (2) that work is faith in action. However popular these notions maybe, both are heretical. Neither represents the biblical understanding of our work and God's work.

God's Work and Ours

According to scripture, work is an essential and necessary part of human life -- no more, no less. Let us say once more, for emphasis, what we have already said about the Call of the Fishermen: Jesus' summons to a life of faith and obedience desacralizes work. It was the fishermen, not their boats and nets, that Jesus wanted. Those things are holy that are set apart for special use by the Deity. In this particular narrative the fishermen alone were set apart for God's special use.

It may be said of the four that once they had followed the trade of fishing, but no more. Henceforth they followed Jesus. You and I, who believe in Jesus Christ and count ourselves his disciples, are not to follow a trade or profession as though it were the Holy Grail. We are to follow Jesus. Work is to take a secondary role in our lives. If Christ is truly our Master, then work cannot be equally important. We may be engaged in work, but never married to it. And whenever we are pressed or tempted to make work supreme, we are to recall the story of the four fishermen. We are to remember how they left their nets and their boats to go and be with Jesus, to do what he would have them do.

If work is not to command all our time and energy and devotion, what is left? Work is part of God's ordering of creation; it belongs to our humanity that we work. To be a human being is to work. It is that simple -- and that profound. In the second chapter of Genesis it says that after God created the garden, the human was put in it to tend it and till it. In the very beginning of things human beings are pictured as stewards of creation. The first human being was an ecologist. Even before Adam became a husband, he was a husbandman. Not a creature with no responsibilities and no tasks, like the other animals, but one put on earth as in a lovely garden, to care for it.

In the next chapter of Genesis we hear the story of the fall. Adam and Eve were not content with caring for God's garden, they hankered for a managerial role. And so the idyll was spoiled. But while through sin the good order of God's creation was marred, it was not erased. Work became for humanity a drudgery -- almost a curse. Yet work still belongs to the order of creation. As Robert Calhoun said many years ago in God and the Day's Work, "Man is by nature-and not by choice-a worker.., man, then, is a working animal." Work is the divine calling given to all of humanity. That is how it has been from the very beginning. Even the fall has not erased that.

That reality seems to underlie Jesus' choice of four workingmen to begin his movement. He did not choose his first disciples from the priestly class or from the leisure class. Nor were they intellectuals, academics, poets, professional athletes, or the unemployed young. Jesus chose four fishermen. He began his own work by coming to us in our most natural state, while we were at work. When the fishermen first heard Jesus' invitation to discipleship, they smelled of tar and fish. True, Jesus called them to set aside, for a time, their fishing gear. That is a clear signal that daily work is not a divine mandate, as though God had set us all to work and we dare not rest so long as we have strength and daylight. However, Jesus did come to men while they were at work. This is a strong affirmation of the role of work in human life.

No Specific Content

Note this also about Jesus' call to the fishermen: It had no specific content. He said simply, "Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men." The summons is cryptic. Commentators like David Hill do not think so. "This image [fishers of men] indicates that the disciples will be preachers and active witnesses of the Kingdom: they will be as effective in seeking men as they have been in catching fish" (p. 106). But that kind of interpretation requires that we read the Gospel backwards, that we already know about the sending of the disciples out into the world to extend Jesus' ministry. In this initial contact between Jesus and the disciples in Matthew's narrative, "fishers of men" might mean almost anything. It is a metaphor with no obvious point of reference. In what sense were the four to fish for men? Jesus did not tell them. It belongs to the nature of Jesus' call that the fishermen were to come after him without knowing precisely what they were to be or do! It is not until the final paragraph of Matthew's Gospel that it becomes fully clear what "fishers of men" means. There it is that Jesus gives to his disciples the Great Commission: They are to go into all the world and make disciples of the nations.

That end, however, is not visible from the beginning. All that Andrew, Peter, John, and James can hear is "Follow me." They go after Jesus with little knowledge of what it is they have signed on to do. They are like soldiers who have enlisted in an army to fight in a war yet to be declared; like actors who have signed up to perform roles in a play that is still being written. Jesus' call to them is a summons to step out into the unknown; it is a call to adventure.

Brother Lawrence was an ex-soldier in the Middle Ages who joined himself to a monastic order . He was put in charge of the kitchen. For reasons of his own, he resolved to practice the presence of God in his kitchen. In whatever he did-scrubbing pots, shelling peas, mopping floors-he worked as though God were there. His efforts are recorded in a set of letters to friends and colleagues, letters later printed in a book that has become a devotional classic, The Practice of the Presence of God. This ex-soldier did not want to write a devotional classic; he did not intend anything designed to make him saintly or famous. He set out on an uncommon adventure in the most mundane of settings, though he would not himself have called it an adventure. If asked about it, he probably would have shrugged and said that he felt called to do it.

If there is one person living in our own lifetime who is apt to be remembered as a saint, it is Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who has devoted herself to the destitute and dying of India. Although she has appeared on national TV and has walked and talked with presidents and popes, certainly she did not set out to become world-famous. Rather, she had a modest but unflinching desire to help people; she had a call, if you please. Any Roman Catholic nun might have used her office to do what Teresa did, but she found an extraordinary way to use an ordinary office.

Surely William Shakespeare did not set out to write great literature, nor Handel to write classical music; nor did the mother of John and Charles Wesley, when she spanked them for mischief, say to herself, "I am training up the leaders of Methodism." When Abe Lincoln first ran for public office in Illinois, surely it was not with the ambition of being the Great Emancipator . Our conventional thinking is backwards. We suppose that persons once decided to be great and influential, rather than remain mired in the ordinary. It is just the opposite. They found in the ordinary workplace an occasion for doing what they would have described as their duty or their calling.

It is dangerous to pile up examples of persons who have made of an ordinary place or a run-of-the-mill office an opportunity for extraordinary service to God and to humanity. That would serve to make heroic what is commonplace. For the call of Jesus to all Christians is to make the workplace the scene of obedience, with no blueprint given of just what that obedience might look like. As with the Gospel of Matthew, it is only in retrospect that we can say that our occupations were great commissions. We are simply to allow the workplace to be an occasion for Jesus' call to faithful service. In commenting on the story of Jesus and the Fishermen, Eduard Schweizer certainly got it right when he observed (p. 76), "The true help that comes from God consists in his taking men and their actions seriously, incorporating them into his own operations." Paul said something similar when he wrote to the Christians in Philippi, "Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for God is at work in you, both to will and to work for [God's] good pleasure" (Phil. 2:12b-13).

Surely it is with this understanding of Jesus' call that we are to read such difficult biblical passages as Colossians 3:22, which bids slaves be obedient to their masters, as though they were obeying Christ himself. There is nothing in that passage that should be read as an approval of slavery. Rather, it is Paul's way of saying what we have been saying in this chapter: The workplace, whatever it may be, may become the scene of God's being glorified through human activity. When Paul urges slaves to serve their masters well, slavery is not thereby sanctified. Rather it is shown to be what it is, a given part of the worldly order of things, which has no sanctity. It is we who are sanctified, made fit for divine service, by the call of Christ to faith and obedience, just as the fishermen were given roles in God's great drama of salvation.

In sum, to those who have heard the call of Christ, the workplace is a proving ground, a scene of high adventure. It is a place for making miraculous catches of fish, for turning water into wine, for walking on the sea, for turning the ordinary elements of life into that which serves God's purposes. The workplace is not a humdrum locale, where nothing ever happens; it is, potentially, the place where God's kingdom may become visible.

As Christ was present to the four by the Sea of Galilee, so is he present in the workplace you and I inhabit: kitchens, farms, offices, schools, factories, drilling grounds, laboratories, studios. As Jesus' call was to the fishermen, so it is to us-a call to high adventure.

Chapter 1: Hearers of the Call (I Corinthians 1:1-2, 9, 26a)

Paul, called by the will of God to be an apostle of Jesus Christ... to the church of God. . . to those sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints together with all those who in every place call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, both their Lord and ours. . -. God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. - . consider your call.

-- I Corinthians 1:1 -- 2, 9, 26a

What metaphor of the Christian life have you chosen? We act out the images we have of ourselves. The way we see ourselves as Christians determines how we behave. A picture is not only worth a thousand words, it is the parent of a thousand deeds. Do you see yourself a soldier in God's army? A sister or a brother in faith's extended family? A scholar in the school of Christ? A traveler along the Christian way? Each of these metaphors has served Christians well. William Booth, founder of the Salvation Army, used the military metaphor with great effect; slum dwellers of nineteenth-century London found the discipline of a soldier to be strong armor against the pull of a former life. The ex-soldier Ignatius Loyola, founder of the Jesuits, modeled his society after military ideas. There are Latin American priests who see themselves as chaplains to God's guerrilla army of liberation.

The idea of the Christian fellowship as a heavenly family housed on earth has a long history. The Shakers saw one another as brothers and sisters in a surrogate family; no wonder they were able so easily to adopt orphans into their communities. Roman Catholics call their priest Father; in their religious orders are Brothers and Sisters.

Life in Scottish Presbyterian parishes of a previous generation was very much like being in school:

The pastor was teacher in residence; sermons were long and scholarly; when the pastor visited a home, he tested the children's knowledge of the church catechism. Andrew Murray, a Scottish-trained missionary, named his devotional classic With Christ in the School of Prayer.

In Pilgrim's Progress, John Bunyan captured the imaginations of many generations with his image of the Christian life as a journey. In his contemporary novel The Blue Mountains of China, Rudy Wiebe tells the story of Mennonites who moved from Germany to Russia, China, Canada, and South America -- modern pilgrims in search of religious freedom. One of Wiebe's characters says, "You know the trouble with the Mennonites? They've always wanted to be Jews. To have land God had given them for their very own, to which they were called; so even if someone chased them away, they could work forever to get it back."

The New Testament is not limited to the images of soldier, sibling, scholar, or sojourner. It offers such metaphors of the Christian life as "ambassador for Christ" -- a favorite of evangelicals -- and "citizen of God's commonwealth," a favorite of social activists. Then there is the disciple, the member of Christ's body, the friend of Jesus.

It is the argument of this book, however, that these various metaphors are not as useful for our time as still another: hearers of the call. If we had to select one and only one way of picturing the life of the Christian, it would be the image of one who has heard and keeps hearing a persistent summons to belief and action.

When I was a child, playing hide-and-seek outside in the waning daylight of a summer evening, inevitably our front door would open and my mother's voice would call, "Jack, time to come in!" I would go on with hide-and-seek as though nothing had happened. To anybody passing by, I looked no different from my playmates. But I was different; I had been "called in"; everything was changed. In a similar way Christians -- who may appear no different from others -- have ringing in their ears God's summons to believe and to obey. Henry Thoreau said that some march to a different drummer. Christians do not hear a different drumbeat; they hear Jesus' distant but clear voice saying, "Come, follow me." It sounds over the whir of the lathe, the cry of a baby, the clink of coins, the curses of enemies, the whisper of success, the roar of the crowd, the nagging of conscience. 

An Active Voice

You may object that the metaphor of hearers of the call is too passive, too quiescent. You remember the injunction of the Letter of James: "Be doers of the word, and not hearers only." But in scripture God's call is a powerful spur to action. Moses heard the voice of God in a smoking bush and went off to lead a people out of slavery. Amos left his sycamore trees at the summons of God. We assume that Jesus himself was called to his ministry.

In The Blue Mountains of China, Wiebe tells the story of a Mennonite farmer named Sam Reimer. One night Sam hears a voice saying to him, "Samuel, Samuel. . . I am the God of your fathers, the Lord your God. Go and proclaim peace in Vietnam." In perplexity, Sam goes to his pastor, who tells him to listen for the voice a second time. The next night the call comes again, but Sam cannot get anyone to believe that he has truly heard God's voice. His pastor won't believe it; neither will his wife or his fellow Mennonites. The Canadian government won't give him a visa to Vietnam; the inter-Mennonite Church Service Society won't help him. Sam's reaction to these rebuffs is to give up hope and die. On his deathbed he says to his wife, "When I heard the voice, I should of gone. Left a note and gone. When you know like that, are chosen, you shouldn't wait, talk. Go."

Fritz Graebe was a civil engineer with the German army in World War II. He said that after witnessing the mass murder of Jewish civilians in the Ukrainian town of Dubno, he heard his mother's voice, saying, "And Fritz, what would you do?" He was not disobedient to that inner call. Fritz Graebe contrived to save the lives of hundreds of Jews.

The prophet Jeremiah tells the inner pain of not obeying the call of God:

If I say, "I will not mention him,

or speak any more in his name,"

there is in my heart as it were a burning fire

shut up in my bones,

and I am weary with holding it in,

and I cannot.

- Jeremiah 20:9

 

Right for Our Times

What is so timely about the metaphor of hearers of the call? It has several considerable advantages. First, as we shall demonstrate, it is an extraordinarily rich metaphor; it is applicable to a whole range of settings -- family, piety, economics, missions, stewardship, enmities, caring ministries, marriage. No other single biblical metaphor has such range. The soldier metaphor is fine for warring against injustice, but "Onward, Christian Soldiers" is not to be hummed when you sit down with your spouse to discuss household finances. Family metaphors don't help with civic responsibilities. The scholar metaphor is useful for worship and Bible study, but books like Andrew Murray's With Christ in the School of Prayer don't have much to say about faithfulness in the workplace. The sojourner metaphor, too, is hard to reconcile with domestic responsibilities.

Hearers of the call also puts us in direct line with Abraham, Moses, David, the prophets, and the apostles, all of whom have this in common: They were summoned by God to fulfill the divine purpose.

Hearers of the call has a particular resonance in our culture, dominated as it is by the mass media. All of us are audiences for television, computer networks, radio, and publishing. We are constantly being studied (by researchers) and wooed (by advertisers and politicos) through the mass media. We live in a world that increasingly organizes us into audiences and wants to deal with us as audiences. Russell Baker, writing in the New York Times (September 30, 1987), said, "Since 1952, the electorate has been treated by politicians less and less as an electorate and more and more as an audience." If we are indeed treated more and more as audience, one of the primary ethical tasks of our time is to sort out the various appeals to our ears.

The metaphor of hearers of the call has one additional advantage, which will be referred to in more detail in chapter 11: It applies to the church as a collective as well as to the individual Christian. One of the considerable threats to the health and welfare of Christianity in our generation is a tendency to individualism. Carl Dudley characterizes the religious attitude of many young adults as "believing but not belonging." This is American individualism at its most typical. If we are to overcome the tendency of our age to privatism, we need metaphors that suggest collective as well as individual obedience and commitment.

We shall test the usefulness of hearers of the call by examining ten "calling" narratives from the Gospel of Matthew. This Gospel is particularly useful for our purpose, for it contains a number of accounts in which Jesus is represented as issuing summonses to various persons: calling fishermen to leave their nets; calling those same fishermen to take up the cross, follow a life of humble service, and go into the world with the good news of the kingdom. Some scholars say that Matthew was written as a Christian handbook, a manual of discipline. If so, that makes it particularly useful as a source for examining various calls to discipleship.

Another feature of Matthew invites the attention of those who want to invest discipleship with new meaning: The Gospel is structured of five large chunks of Jesus' teaching, each preceded by narrative. John Meier calls these five discourses "the five pillars of the Gospel." The author of Matthew was most likely a Jewish Christian leader of the church in Syria in the late first century A.D., writing at a time when the church had split from the Jewish synagogue and was struggling to define itself. The five pillars and their accompanying narratives suggest that the Gospel writer saw Jesus as a new Moses: As Moses called Israel to leave Egypt and go adventuring in the wilderness, where he delivered to them the commandments of God, so Jesus calls the church to a new obedience, "to boldly go where no one has gone before," in the famous words from Star Trek.

In keeping with the notion that hearers of the call is a collective metaphor, we shall invite to the discussion four authors of popular commentaries on the First Gospel: Jack Dean Kingsbury, an American Protestant and author of Matthew in Proclamation Commentaries (Fortress Press, 1986); David Hill, a Britisher, author of The Gospel of Matthew in the New Century Bible Commentary (Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1972); John P. Meier, an American Roman Catholic, author of Matthew in the New Testament Message Series (Michael Glazier, 1980): and Eduard Schweizer, a Swiss, author of The Good News According to Matthew translated by David Green (John Knox, 1975). Quotations from these four books will be indicated by the author's name and the page reference in parenthesis. 

Christ as God's Call

One further consideration remains, before we look at specific narratives in Matthew. What particular force or import are we to assign to a call from Jesus Christ? Is a call something like a sermon, in which we are exhorted to a new kind of behavior? Is the listing often calls from Jesus an attempt to replace the Ten Commandments with a new table of moral requirements? Is a call something like an invitation to join a party, which we may accept or refuse depending on our mood?

The answer lies in the identity of the one who issues the call. There are various ways in which the identity of Jesus in Matthew's Gospel is described. Some see Jesus presented as the divine Son of God (Kingsbury). Others see him presented to the reader as the Son of man, who will return at the end of time to judge everyone for his or her deeds (Meier). Some see Matthew's Jesus as "Messiah and Son of Man and supremely Lord of the Church" (Hill, p. 43).

As Hans Frei points out in a series of essays in Crossroads, a person's identity is revealed in what he does, how he enacts his intentions. The Jesus we see in Matthew's Gospel is the person who is perfectly obedient to the will of God, so that the one who calls us is the one who himself hears and truly obeys the Father's will. His verbal summons is at one with the example of his life. He is the one of whom the apostle Paul wrote, "Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross" (Phil. 2:5 -- 8).

Chapter 12: Minister and Laymen Work Together for Mental Health

The whole creation is on tiptoe to see the wonderful sight of the sons of God coming into their own -- Rom. 8:19. (Phillips)

Is there no universal pastorhood to go along with the universal priesthood of Protestantism! (Preface to Pastoral Theology (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1958), p. 37.)

-- Seward Hiltner

A Creative Partnership

The key to the release of a church's mental health potentialities is the development of a creative partnership between the minister and a core-group of laymen who have caught a vision of these potentialities. Only thus can the healing-growth approach enter dynamically into the life stream of a local segment of the Body of Christ.

Laymen outnumber clergymen approximately three hundred to one. Obviously, any program must involve laymen as full partners if it is to have more than superficial effects on a church and its community. One of the reasons why churches have not stimulated the growth of their members more is the passive follow-the-leader posture of many lay persons and the one-man-show self-image of many ministers. This situation retards the spiritual maturing of everyone involved. Furthermore, it is profoundly unbiblical.

A deep-level cure for the "spectator-itis" of laymen and the one-man-show orientation of ministers seems to be emerging in the "lay renaissance" -- a contemporary movement of profound significance for the mental health mission of our churches. This grassroots movement is growing spontaneously, on many fronts, with the rediscovery of the New Testament truth that every Christian has a ministry simply because he is a Christian. The New Testament Greek word "laos," from which "layman" and "laity" are derived, refers to all Christians! The "ministry of reconciliation" was given to the whole church (II Cor. 5:18), not to a set-apart, professional ministry. All are a vital part of the healing community. The layman is no second-class Christian. He is a minister in the life stream of his community and world. No Christian can really delegate his personal ministry to another. Every Christian is a shepherd (pastor) to others. The clergyman is simply a shepherd of shepherds, all under the great Shepherd. The clergyman is set apart by the church to provide leadership in the ministering community which is the church. His set-apartness is a matter of function, not a difference of spiritual responsibility. The clergyman's central job is to train his people for their ministry to the world. He is a teacher of teachers, a counselor of counselors, a pastor of pastors.( This conception was set forth in The Purpose of the Church and its Ministry.) He is a "playing coach" on the team which is the church.( This phrase is from Samuel Shoemaker's book, Beginning Your Ministry (New York: Harper & Row, 1963). In the words of the author of Ephesians, the minister's primary job is "to equip God's people for work in his service" (Eph. 4:11-12, NEB).

During World War II the persecuted Christians threw a ringing challenge at comfortable, culture-adapted Christianity when they declared: "The first duty of the church is to be the church." It is my conviction that a local church works best for mental health when it is true to its mission as a church, not when it attempts to become a mental health agency. Its rich contribution to mental health is the result of the overflowing vitality of its spiritual and interpersonal life as a person-centered, God-oriented organism. The distinctive source of a church's vitality is the growing awareness among its members that they can become (in New Testament terms) the people of God (a community bound together by a glad commitment to the kingdom which is both among us and yet to be fully actualized), the fellowship of the Holy Spirit (a ministering family in which the life-renewing Spirit of God can be experienced), and the Body of Christ (his instrument for serving human need in all areas of life) .( For a discussion of the New Testament conception of the church, see Grimes, The Church Redemptive, pp. 21-68.)

When this New Testament picture of the church is taken seriously by Christians, salutary things begin to happen. Individuals and groups come alive. A new kind of minister-layman relationship emerges as the sense of mutual ministry grows. Laymen become "salty Christians" (Hans-Ruedi Weber, Salty Christians (New York: Seabury, Press, 1963), p. 33.) -- determined to be the "salt of the earth" by exerting a redemptive influence in their labor unions, corporations, clubs, or schools. Thus, the renewal of the church is coming with the pouring of its healing life into the world's wounds through the everyday ministry of dedicated laymen. This is the context within which a church's greatest contribution to mental health is made. Growing laymen, experiencing the empowering love of God, often see a dedication to mental health as a vital way of implementing their personal ministries of reconciliation.

The Minister's Roles in Mental Health

As the respected leader of a church, the minister sets the tone of its program and its interpersonal climate. He does this by the kind of person he is, the quality of his relationships, the sort of people he attracts to the church, the motivational influence of his leadership, and his own passion for making that church a need-satisfying fellowship with a dynamic concern for helping lift the load of humanity. In order to be fully effective a church's mental health thrust requires the minister's enthusiasm. He is the key man in inspiring and training laymen for this ministry.

A revealing study of a cross-section of the Protestant ministry by sociologist Samuel W. Blizzard distinguished six practitioner roles in which parish ministers engage: preacher, teacher, priest., organizer, administrator, pastor.( These roles are discussed in S. W. Blizzard "The Minister's Dilemma," The Christian Century (April 25,1956).

I would add a seventh -- prophet. As we have seen in the preceding chapters, each of these roles is a door opening into a whole realm of mental health opportunities.

Here is a summary of the major ways in which a minister can contribute to the mental health of his congregation and community:

1. Inform and motivate his congregation, with regard to both mental illness and positive mental health. Many who hear him in his preaching and teaching roles are in attitude-molding positions as parents, teachers, and community leaders. Psychologist Gordon W. Allport writes:

Insofar as the clergy is better able to deal with issues of basic belief, values, and orientation toward life, he has an inescapable role to play in the conservation and advancement of mental health.... He can make psychological science his ally, and share with its practitioners the solution of a problem of joint concern.( The Individual and His Religion, p. 85.)

2. Select and train a small group to become mental health leaders and infiltrators within the church and community. If a number of dedicated laymen are exposed to the mental health needs of a community, particularly if these needs are personalized by visits to mental health facilities, some will respond with an Isaiah-like, "Here I am. Send me." An ad in the London Times read: "Brilliant speaker wants first-class cause." In every church there are members with unused talents who can be challenged by the freshness and obvious value of a church's mental health emphasis. A person serving on a committee charged with guiding a pastoral counseling service knows that his self-investment is paying significant dividends.

3. Initiate action. After the educational groundwork has been laid and a nucleus group trained, the minister is ready to work with that group in deciding on the most urgent unmet mental health need. After planning strategy, the group can move into action. The nature and goals of this mental health action should be determined by the unmet needs of a local situation. Organizationally the minister may prefer to work through an existing committee on social problems or create a new mental health task force responsible for this one area.

4. Present the Christian message in a growth-stimulating way. As a congregation's best trained interpreter of the message, the minister has a responsibility to test and retest his presentation of that message against criteria of healing and growth (see Chap. 2).

5. Encourage the development of a growth-oriented program of Christian education by personally helping to motivate and train healthy persons as teachers. From a mental health standpoint being a teacher of teachers is one of the minister's most important roles (see Chap. 6).

6. Guide the development of a variety of creative groups including a network of small, family-modeled nurture groups. The minister's personal involvement in leadership training activities may be his outstanding contribution in this area (see Chap. 7) .

7. Support persons in crisis and counsel with the disturbed. The minister has both a preventive and a therapeutic opportunity in this area of service (see Chaps. 10 and 11) . The "Mental Health Counselors" (called for in the Joint Commission's Report), a group between the psychiatrist and the "care-taking" professions, already exists to the extent that clergymen are effective counselors.

8. Help to instill "unconditional positive regard" for persons into all the administrative procedures of the church, so that the total organism of the church can become an instrument for mental health.

9. Function as a community mental health leavener. Because of the status which his position gives him in the community, a minister can have great influence in sparking mental health action by arousing a lethargic citizenry to their mental health responsibilities. Collectively,the country's 364,475 ministers represent a major community mental health resource (outnumbering psychiatrists thirty-three to one).( In 1960 there were approximately 11,000 psychiatrists.) Unlike psychiatrists, clergymen are present and influential in almost every community. A professor of psychiatry accented the role of clergymen when he stated: "We recognize the minister as one of the first lines of defense in the mental hygiene movement."( D. M. Kelley, Bowman Gray School of Medicine, quoted in "The Role of Religion in the Psychoses," by Wayne Oates, Pastoral Psychology (May, 1950), p. 80.)

The Importance of the Minister's Mental Health

John Wesley once wrote: "You have need to be all alive yourselves, if you would impart life to others." (From a letter to Zachariah Yewdall dated December 3, 1780, in The Letters of John Wesley Vol. 7 (London: The Epworth Press, 1931), p. 40. Of course it is not possible to be "all alive," if this means being perfectly mentally healthy. Nevertheless, Wesley's basic idea is valid and important.) The minister's (or layman's) fundamental instrument of health or harm is interpersonal relationships. The quality of these determines his long-range influence on people and this quality is determined by the degree of his own mental health. As Wayne Oates puts the matter: "Religion may either facilitate mental health or breed and maintain mental pathology, depending upon the mental health and methodology of the representatives of religion. ("The Role of Religion in the Psychoses," p. 35.)

A minister who suffered severe emotional deprivation in his childhood relationships, and whose self-esteem is therefore damaged, will subtly manipulate his flock in ways that will cause them to feed his exorbitant need for approval and love. If this need to manipulate is severe, he will become what Flanders Dunbar calls a "pathogenic agent." He will relate in ways that intensify guilt, dependence, and fear, blocking growth forces and infantilizing those around him. (An extreme example of this is the right-wing radio "prophet" whose paranoid message attracts a huge crowd of frightened, angry people. Such a person is a spawner of sickness who encourages hate and delusion in the name of religion.)

On the other hand, the relatively healthy minister naturally relates in ways that stimulate mutual trust and personal growth. As an accepting, loving person, he will automatically strengthen the mental health of those about him. To the degree that he really cares about people for their own selves, he will be a source of health and growth. He will enter into honest (and sometimes painful) encounters with his people rather than stay in the detached safety of professionalism. Ross Snyder has said, "No person has earned the right to be pastor of a church or teacher of a class until he has risked himself with his people." (From "A Church as a Learning Community," a paper presented to the United Church Assembly (January 29, 1962), p. 6.)

The vast majority of ministers are reasonably mature, healthy persons. There are, however, certain mental health hazards in the ministry against which every minister needs to develop strategies of defense. One hazard is the contemporary professional identity diffusion of the ministry. Kaleidoscopic social changes have blurred the clearly focused pre-World War I sense of "who" and "why" the clergyman is in his community.

A part of some ministers' quiet sense of futility stems from the fact that the search for a new, relevant ministerial identity is far from complete. It is helpful to be aware that at least some of one's inner uncertainties are symptomatic of broad historical uncertainties. The present situation makes it very important for the minister to find a sturdy sense of personal identity so that he will not need to lean so heavily on his professional identity.

Another ministerial health hazard consists of the variety of threats to his sense of self-worth. In our culture, where status and financial compensation are closely linked, ministers who are underpaid often suffer from gradual attrition of their self-esteem. However strong one's dedication to his calling, it is hard to escape the feeling that society puts a low value tag on one's services. A National Council of Churches study revealed that two thirds of our ministers are in substantial debt and that three fourths of these are not able to reduce their debt loads. (W. A. Pleuthner, "Let's Pay Our Ministers a Living Wage," This Week (February 2, 1959). Since 1939, ministers' salaries have risen 105 percent as contrasted with 149 percent rise in the cost of living. 67 percent of ministers face serious problems in providing college educations for their children.( From a study by the Ministers' Life and Casualty Union.)

Ministerial discounts, clergy fares on public conveyances, exemption from military service, and so forth, confront the clergyman with other mental health hazards. The first two of these are backdoor forms of remuneration which are distasteful to many self-respecting clergymen. Any form of special treatment by society exposes one to the trap of believing that one really is a special kind of human being. Such arrogance interferes with one's ability to establish authentic relationships.

Chronic loneliness poses another serious mental health hazard for ministers and their wives. Although he is surrounded by people, a minister may be hungry for relationships in which he can function as a peer rather than a professional leader. Some men find satisfying peer relationships with other professional people in the community. Others find renewal in a continuing small group experience with fellow ministers. One such group on the west coast hired a clinically trained chaplain to serve as therapist. Through honest sharing they were able to resolve some of their conflicting feelings about the ministry. Another group of ministers and their wives meet regularly with a well-trained clinical psychologist in a personal growth group.

Other mental health hazards faced by the minister and his family are the factors which make parsonage family life difficult. Since the minister's family is uprooted frequently, it is doubly important that family relationships be strong, supportive, and satisfying. Unfortunately, ministers sometimes sacrifice their families to the demands of their churches. The minister's wife faces more frustrations and fewer gratifications than her husband. It is essential for her mental health and his that they take a regular day off each week. Parsonage families who regularly set aside a block of time for shared activities are on the right track. A survey of ministers' wives showed that less than half of the churches encouraged their minister to take a regular day off.( G. Keohler, "The Minister as a Family Man," in The Minister's Own Mental Health, pp. 159-66.) One minister asked his officials to fill out questionnaires indicating how much time they felt he should spend each week on each area of his work. He found that to meet their desires would require an eighty-two hour work week.( See the Reverend Wesley Shrader, "Why Ministers Are Breaking Down:" Life (August 20. 1956), p. 95.) In order to protect himself and his family from unwarranted demands, the minister has to master the fine art of saying "no."

The constant pressure to set a good example is another mental health hazard faced by ministers and their wives. Because they must please so many people and live an exemplary life they often feel that they must always hold themselves rigidly in line. Psychiatrist Harry Stack Sullivan once remarked, in his own inimitable way, that swallowing too much anger will ruin one's belly. As repressed ministers demonstrate, it will also deaden one's spontaneity and hamper one's relations with people. If a minister is to stay psychologically alive, he must find constructive ways of channeling his human feelings and drives. An understanding wife and a sharing group in which he can let down his hair are helpful. He also needs the "courage of his own imperfections" so that he can free himself from the need to please those who make unfair demands for neurotic reasons.

Closely related is the hazard of feeling that one must repress honest doubts. Some of the most tortured ministers I have met are those from conservative churches who felt forced by the threat of job loss to mouth doctrines in which they no longer believed. Whatever one's doubts, the price of ignoring them is a reduction in the vitality of one's faith. Talking them over candidly with a trusted person outside one's church is one constructive way of handling doubts.

Another hazard faced by ministers and their wives is the tendency to restrict personal satisfactions and recreation. Any profession which demands as much giving as the ministry, requires time for taking in activities -- hobbies, reading, attending concerts, loafing, and nonchurch centered social relations. The ministry requires disciplined study and hard work, but creativity in these can be maintained only by alternating with periods for recharging the batteries. Samuel Johnson once remarked, "Sir, the life of a parson, of a conscientious clergyman, is not easy. I have always considered a clergyman as the father of a larger family than he is able to maintain." (Quoted by C. W. Gilkey, "A Well Proved Ministry," Pastoral Psychology (February, 1957), pp. 9-10.) The drain of having a considerable number of disturbed, dependent people constantly drawing on his emotional resources makes it imperative that a minister have replenishing experiences. One who brags (or complains) that he hasn't taken a day off in the last month is asking for serious trouble, as well as displaying his indispensability complex.

Hierarchical systems of church government pose mental health hazards for ministers who have not resolved their authority problems. Some comply with authority in ways that make them feel emotionally castrated; others defy authority in rebellious, self-hurting ways. Even if a minister's feelings toward authority are relatively mature, he may have problems in coping with whatever elements of the "stained glass jungle" are present in the ecclesiastical power structure of his denomination. Many men who resent hierarchical systems continue in them because they cannot relinquish the dependence and security they offer. Clergymen in denominations in which the ultimate authority is vested in the local congregation suffer from the insecurity of being vulnerable to the whims of power groups within their churches.

The most dangerous hazard to a minister's health is spiritual emptiness, the loss of a powerful sense of being the glad captive of one's mission in life. Young ministers sometimes leave seminary with heads full of facts about religion, but their hearts are strangely cool because they have not found a growing faith into which their knowledge can be integrated. Unless a maturing faith is found, the person either leaves the ministry or by middle age is like a salesman going through the motions of peddling a product in which he does not believe. The only way of avoiding this hazard is for a minister to work continually on his intellectual, emotional, and spiritual growth.

Fortunately, the vast majority of ministers and their wives overcome these hazards and live remarkably productive lives. Offsetting the frustrations are a host of deep satisfactions which rise from an effective ministry. These include the respect in which they are held in the community, the genuine appreciation they receive for work well done, the privilege of being invited to be with persons in their brightest and darkest hours, the satisfaction of communicating ideas that are important, the security of being surrounded by people who have affection for them, and the deep sense of well-being that comes from self-investment in significant work which helps lighten the load of humanity and makes for a better world.

Preparation for a Person-Centered Ministry

To some extent, the maximum release of a church's mental health potentialities depends on the caliber and character of its minister's training. Optimal training for a person-centered ministry includes three things: (a) Experiences which lead to the understanding of one's religious heritage (through the study of Bible, theology, and church history), of contemporary revelation regarding man (through the study of developmental psychology, anthropology, group dynamics, education, abnormal psychology, and so forth), and to the ability to meaningfully correlate these two bodies of truth. (b) A period of clinical pastoral training, and (c), opportunities to discover and resolve one's inner problems (through individual or group psychotherapy), and to develop a tough, growing faith.

Seminary education is essentially conservative and therefore changes slowly, In spite of this, the basically interpersonal nature of the ministry is receiving some consideration (though not enough) in the rethinking of theological education which is occurring in many places. The Niebuhr-Williams-Gustafson report on theological education, states:

When one considers the revitalization of much in the theological curriculum today through new emphases in psychology and pastoral counseling, it must be concluded that a significant new turn in the education of the ministry has been taken. Powerful new resources are available throughout the curriculum because of work in this field. It is of first importance, therefore, that the field of pastoral rare be accepted as the responsibility of the entire school and not be isolated as a subordinate department concerned with practical skills alone.( H. Richard Niebuhr, et al, The Advancement of Theological Education (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1957), p. 128.)

To send a minister forth from seminary without his having confronted himself and human need at a deep level is to graduate him without the very insights which can allow him to make his message relevant to live human beings. Realizing this, some seminaries are using small, modified-therapy groups in which students experience self-encounter and gain awareness of their relationships. Several seminaries are requiring every student to have one quarter of clinical training -- an experience of working for three months in a mental hospital, correctional institution, or general hospital under a carefully trained chaplain supervisor.( The two national, nondenominational clinical training groups are The Council for Clinical Training, Inc. (475 Riverside Drive, New York, New York) and The Institute of Pastoral Care (P. O. Box 57, Worcester 1, Massachusetts). If all seminaries would do this, the mental health impact of the churches could be doubled in one generation.

Clinical pastoral training is, without a doubt, the most efficient way of vitalizing one's ministry to persons. Carl W. Christensen, instructor in neurology and psychiatry at Northwestern University Medical School, declares:

It should be as routine for a minister to have clinical training as for a physician to have an internship. Such training confronts the student with himself and his needs, and with others and their needs. It helps crystallize and make classroom work meaningful, it illustrates and illuminates the dynamics of person-to-person relationships.... If to this is added what contact with mental illness teaches about personal bias and prejudice, unrecognized illusion, ready answers, and pseudo-faith, the experience prepares the student for life. He has the courage to ask the right questions of religion, and the faith to search for the pertinent answers.( "The Minister's Own Mental Health," The Christian Advocate (March 31, 1960), pp. 7-8.)

Anyone who works as closely and constantly with people, as an effective minister must, benefits tremendously from the increased openness to himself and others which usually results from having psychotherapy. A west-coast minister gives this testimony concerning his personal analysis:

The parish minister has limitless opportunities to communicate with others from the center of his own life. It is assumed, often over-optimistically, that his life has a center and that he has not only found his way to it, but that he has found it to be reasonably acceptable. I would say that the most significant aspect of an Educative Analysis for the parish minister is that it helps him to accept the center of life and to speak from it.... It makes him more aware of himself as a person and more aware of others as persons. It gives him a deeper understanding of the forms and institutions of religion and helps him use those forms and institutions with more reliance on his feelings.... It helps him to shape them to ends of self-expression and self-realization.( H. B. Scholefield, "The Significance of an Educative Analysis for the Parish Ministry," The Minister's Own Mental Health, pp. 328-29.)

One of the major values of a period under a skilled therapist is that it gives one a delicious experience of grace -- the unearned acceptance which is the heart of any genuinely therapeutic relationship. This experience can bring to life for the minister the central truth of the Christian faith. Unless it has come to life for him he cannot communicate it to others. It is true that any profound human experience confronts a person with himself and that any profound relationship brings grace to life. Unfortunately, profound experiences and relationships are rare in our society and most of us work overtime to avoid them. Clinical training and psychotherapy are two experiences in which self-confrontation and depth relationships are hard to avoid. In speaking of clinical training for theological students, Reuel Howe says: "They will be plunged deeply into life, many of them for the first time, and come up gasping and dripping, ready to learn about life." (The Church and Mental Health, p. 243.) Both clinical training and psychotherapy are excellent means of enhancing the capacity to relate authentically and in depth.

Here are some of the ways a parish clergyman can sharpen his interpersonal skills:

1. Clinical training. If a minister has an enlightened congregation who will grant him a three-months "sabbatical" for a post-B.D. quarter of full-time clinical training, he will find this to be one of the great learning experiences of his life. Since it will add a depth dimension to his ministry, it is to the congregation's advantage that he have this experience. If full-time clinical training is impossible, a minister should enroll in a one- or two-days-per-week program in a nearby hospital. Several accredited chaplain supervisors have developed such programs for parish ministers, with valuable results.

2. Supervision of one's counseling. Clergymen in most parts of the country are discovering that one of the most rewarding forms of training is available at their doorstep. Individually, or in small groups, they simply make arrangements with a clinically trained person -- psychiatrist, social worker, chaplain, psychologist, pastoral counseling specialist -- to provide weekly or bi-monthly supervision of their counseling. Most mental health professionals are glad to participate, since it provides them with a stimulating opportunity to teach. Ideally, such supervision should extend over at least two years. The financial costs are modest, particularly if done in a group. Most ministers who have had supervision regard it as one of the most useful experiences in their entire educational careers.

3. Personal psychotherapy. If a minister is aware of creativity-depleting inner conflicts or is dissatisfied with his degree of effectiveness in relationships, he should not hesitate to enter individual or group psychotherapy. (It is crucial, of course, that the therapist be highly competent.) Though expensive, therapy will be among the best investments he has ever made, paying dividends in professional creativity and in both personal and marital happiness.

4. An academic "retread" through seminary extension courses or graduate programs in pastoral care and counseling. Sound degree programs include supervision and clinical experience. Disciplined reading in the mushrooming pastoral care literature and in the major journals, Pastoral Psychology and the Journal of Pastoral Care, is essential to continuing growth in one's interpersonal ministry. Exciting things are happening in this area, with which the pastor should keep abreast.

The Layman's Mental Health Ministry

As indicated earlier, the layman who is awakened to his opportunities plays a vital role in strengthening the mental health impact of his church. At many points, he has opportunities which the clergyman does not possess. Here are some facets of a layman's mental health ministry:

1. He can help select an emotionally mature minister and then back him in a person-centered ministry. The choice of an emotionally healthy minister is the essential factor in developing a church's mental health potentialities. An alert layman should utilize his influence in helping to select a man who gives evidence of a high degree of personal maturity and of the ability to be a "playing coach." The committee which interviews candidates should be composed of the most perceptive laymen in a church, including, if available, persons trained in interpersonal sensitivities. Such a committee should apply a typical criteria in considering a candidate: Does he care about people for their own sakes? Does he relate openly and honestly? Is he fully aware that he is a human being? What is the quality of his relationships with his wife and children? Would I like to be on a team of which he is coach? Is the gospel really good news to him personally? How sturdy is his self-esteem?

A layman should work to make sure that the salary which is offered is adequate to attract a minister with solid self-esteem and to prevent economic insecurity from hampering his effectiveness once he is hired. This is the only course consistent with the church's enlightened self-interest, not to mention Christian charity. A minister who is underpaid, who sees his family go without needed dental work, who cannot afford the books and recreation he must have to stay on his toes is crippled in his most basic function -- establishing creative relationships.

A layman should encourage his minister's desire to take additional clinical and academic training in pastoral counseling. (Seventy percent of ministers in one survey expressed a need for such training.) Like his counterpart in medicine, a growing minister needs regular post-graduate educational experiences to broaden his horizons and keep him up to date in his field. I shall always be grateful to the lay leaders of a Long Island church who made it possible for me, as their pastor, to have a quarter of clinical training ten years after completing seminary. Those years in the ministry had made me acutely aware of my inadequacies in meeting many pastoral care problems. This sense of need helped make that clinical training an invaluable experience.

Mental health concerns should motivate a layman to encourage his minister to do those things which are consistent with his mental health -- a regular "preacher's sabbath" away from the telephone, at least a month's vacation for recharging his emotional and intellectual batteries, sufficient money and freedom to enjoy the legitimate recreational resources of the area, and enough privacy to protect the minister and his family from excessive living-in-a-goldfish-bowl pressure. I am not suggesting that a minister should be coddled. No self-respecting minister either wants or needs this. But all of us are sensitive to the expectations and approval of others. Healthy laymen can counterbalance the pressure of neurotic laymen who tend to heighten the mental health hazards of the ministry.

A layman should back the minister's efforts to increase the proportion of his time spent in person-centered activities. Providing adequate secretarial and janitorial staff is the place to start. Some churches have the best educated (though not the highest paid) mimeograph operators in town. A minister who spends his time in such ways is wasting both his training and his potential contributions to mental health.

2. A layman should inform himself in the area of mental health and then let his pastor know that he stands ready to work alongside him in developing the church's mental health strategy. If a clergyman knows that there are even one or two key laymen upon whose informed interest and leadership he can count, he is more likely to give immediate priority to a mental health emphasis or project.

3. A layman should develop his own particular ministry to persons. Seward Hiltner's challenging question concerning a "universal pastorhood" in Protestantism must be answered affirmatively it a church's help- and health-giving potentialities are to be released. Early in this country's history, in Methodist class meetings the responsibility for pastoral care was with laymen.( The Churches and Mental Health, p. 57.) A fellowship like A.A. is a refreshing example of the ability of nonprofessional persons to be of highly significant help to each other. Every local church has a largely untapped artesian well of latent helping resources in its laymen. If this stream is to be released, each concerned layman must discover his unique ministry of pastoral care.

Supporting fellow members and neighbors who are going through crisis experiences is the foremost pastoral care opportunity of laymen. An excellent means of increasing the effectiveness of key laymen in this work is for the minister quietly to establish a pastoral care team. Such a team consists of a carefully selected and trained group of laymen including a stable A.A. member and an Al-Anon member, a lawyer, a physician, and other intelligent, warmhearted persons with a dedication to following the Great Physician. The members of the team are on call to serve when the need arises at the discretion of the pastor. The team meets regularly for continuing training in the art of pastoral care.

How the members of the pastoral care team function depends on their training and their natural skills. Their help ordinarily consists mainly of supportive relationships and practical assistance such as finding employment for ex-prisoners and recovered mental patients. (Incidentally, studies have shown that the most important factor in the permanence of a patient's recovery from psychosis is having a job and doing well at it. (Mental Health Education: A Critique, p. 39.) Human need is everywhere! An alert pastoral care team working with a sensitive pastor will find no shortage of opportunities to serve.

The danger that well-meaning, but untrained persons will do harm while attempting to help is minimized by careful selection of team members, emphasis in their training on the limitations of their helping roles, and direct supervision by the pastor or some person from the mental health professions designated by him. There exists a broad group of troubled persons whose difficulties in living do not require the services of a highly-trained professional person and yet who need more help than is available from random conversations with relatives and friends. The sick, the burdened, the handicapped, the bereaved, and the aged are among those to whom average team members can minister effectively. Several members of most pastoral care teams will have special helping competence by virtue of their professional training. Churchmen from one of the mental health professions should certainly be given an opportunity to serve on the team. The pastoral care team is a practical way of implementing the pastorhood of laymen concept.

A striking example of the effectiveness of lay shepherding is the work of the Committee on Institutions of the Louisville Council of Churches. Over twenty years ago, this group of laymen decided to take literally Christ's words, "I was sick and you visited me . . . in prison and you came to me" (Matt. 25:36). Over two hundred laymen have been involved in this project. Clergymen serve only as advisors. Thirteen groups of laymen provide a volunteer ministry in the police court, the jail, the reformatory, the general hospital, the tuberculosis sanitarium, the mental hospital, the juvenile court, and the children's homes. These dedicated laymen have helped countless sick and troubled persons. Their influence in the institutions has tended to upgrade the general treatment programs. Church women organized a committee to serve in the institutions for women. A volunteer presented a layette to a young, unwed mother in prison. The girl wept for the first time in years when she realized that someone cared about her.( George Stoll, Laymen at Work (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1956).

Another illustration of the effectiveness of lay pastoring is the sponsorship, over the past decade, of homeless alcoholics and ex-prisoners by a dozen or so Church of the Brethren congregations. In much the same manner that many churches have sponsored refugees from Iron Curtain countries, these "refugees" from behind another kind of curtain are provided with housing, helped to find employment, and, most important, made to feel accepted by the church fellowship. These experiences are reported to have had a profound educational effect on the congregations, in addition to helping some of society's rejects.

Creative altruism is contagious. This is part of the answer to the question, "What can one person do?" A thirteen-year-old-son of a U. S. Army sergeant stationed in Italy read about Albert Schweitzer's hospital and decided to give a bottle of aspirin. An Italian radio station picked up the story. Not long after this, the boy was flown to Schweitzer's hospital with four and one-half tons of medical supplies worth $400,000 in planes provided by the Italian and French governments. His good-heartedness had started a chain-reaction of goodwill, causing many others to contribute.( The Christian Century (July 29, 1959), p. 870.)

4. A layman can implement his mental health ministry by accepting leadership in community mental health projects. A churchman who served as chairman of a volunteer task force which completed a two-year survey of mental health needs and resources in Los Angeles County put his faith to work in a broadly influential manner. As a respected leader in industry, his name helped to protect the mental health program from serious damage at the hands of the reactionary forces of the area who were attacking it. The survey helped to motivate and guide an extensive program of strengthening the mental health resources of the county.

The "Friendly Visitors" program of Pasadena, California is an inspiring antidote to the common tendency to leave the responsibility for mental health mainly in the hands of professionals. Several years ago a grandmotherly appearing woman named Mara Moser began to wonder what was happening to the families of persons who are imprisoned. She discovered that society rejects or ignores them in most cases. Confused and embittered, the wife often retreats into her dingy house with blinds drawn. Economic pressures on the family are extreme. Frequently, the children fail in school and turn to delinquency.

Instead of stopping with an indignant question such as, "Why doesn't someone do something to help these victims of society's neglect?", Mara Moser decided to become that "someone" by doing whatever she could. At first the court authorities were suspicious of her motives and would not give her the names and addresses she needed. That her only motive was the honest desire to help apparently was hard for them to believe. Undaunted, she searched the daily newspapers for the information. She persuaded the council of churches to give her efforts moral support. Eventually the council sponsored her work enthusiastically and gave her modest financial support.

Her approach was simple and direct -- a visit to each family opened by the words, "I'm from the Friendly Visitors. I would like to talk with you." Often the frightened wives would peer suspiciously through barely opened doors before admitting her. Her lay ministry is mainly one of listening, support, and guidancc. After a while, she started a weekly group where lonely wives could gather for fellowship and for learning some of the homemaking and personal grooming skills which many lack. This group experience helps to strengthen their shattered self-confidence. The fact that the group meets in the parish hall of a church is de-emphasized initially, since many of the women would not come to a church. To them, churches represent not the reconciling love of God but the society which has stood in judgment on them.

A number of volunteers from the churches have joined in the program. The court authorities, having seen the positive results of her work, now gladly give Mrs. Moser access to the names she needs. A plan for providing volunteer tutors for children from disturbed homes who are potential school dropouts has been implemented by the Friendly Visitor workers. What can one person, over sixty, with limited financial resources, no car, and the resistance of the authorities do? Mara Moser is the answer.

The Time is Now

At the beginning of this book I stated that the time is ripe for the churches to make a major breakthrough in the area of mental health. In the intervening chapters I have described how the contributions of a church to mental health can be multiplied in its various areas of work. Let me now reemphasize the strategic nature of our present situation.

For many years, the mental health movement limped along. Then came the end of World War II. The remarkable new vitality that has developed since then is apparent in the churches and in society at large. A ferment of interest in mental health matters is evident on every hand. Major advances in the treatment of the mentally ill are occurring. New, realistic hope is dawning on the horizon of this age-old problem. This moving tide of interest makes the timing right for a major advance in the churches' mental health ministries. Mental health is "an idea whose time has come."

Two factors facilitate the positive response of churches to this challenge. One is the existence of a substantial and growing group of ministers who are well trained in the field of pastoral care and counseling. Over 10,000 ministers now in churches and church-related institutions have had at least one quarter of full-time clinical training. The emergence of pastoral counseling as a specialty within the ministry and the development of new programs for advanced training in pastoral counseling both contribute to the rapid augmentation of the manpower pool of ministers who can provide competent leadership to the churches in their mental health programs. The other factor is the existence of a growing body of laymen who are knowledgeable and concerned about mental health. When these two groups come together, things begin to happen for mental health!

Over a century ago Thoreau sounded this note from a hut beside Walden Pond: "Man's capacities have never been measured; nor are we to judge of what he can do by any precedents, so little has been tried." (Walden [New York: The New American Library, 1942], p. 11.)

This is still true, both of men and of their churches. In the past, most churches have been like slumbering giants in the area of mental health. If fully awakened, they could release new forces of healing and wholeness in the stream of our world that could turn the tide for millions of persons toward that fullness of life which is mental health.

Think of the potential mental health influence of the 246,600 clergymen serving churches in our country.( Benson Y. Landis (ed.), Yearbook of Churches (1964 ed.; New York: National Council of Churches, 1964), p. 258.) As seminary and inservice training in personality development and counseling improves, clergymen will become increasingly significant contributors to mental health. Imagine the creative influences which can be released as more and more of the 319,240 churches and temples in our country become centers of healing, cells of sanity, helping to prevent mental and spiritual illnesses. The total job of fostering positive mental health obviously is too big to be done by any one group, including the churches. Every person and organization of goodwill has a role. The message of this book is that the role of the churches is much larger and more challenging than many of us had even dared to dream. If the churches, with their vast human resources of over 120 million persons, catch a vision of their potential strength in this area, they can become wellsprings of wholeness and health. What a magnificent opportunity!

Dorothea Lynde Dix (For a full account of the life of this amazing woman see Stewart Holbrook, Lost Men of American History (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1946). was probably the most remarkable woman our country has produced. A frail New England schoolteacher (retired early for health reasons) she seemed to be an unlikely candidate for the crusading role she was to fill. Yet singlehandedly she started a revolution of hope in the treatment of the mentally ill.

The day that changed her life was a cold Sunday in March, 1841, on which she taught a Sunday school class at the House of Correction in East Cambridge, Mass. There she was horrified by the sight of four insane persons chained like animals in dark, filthy, unheated cells. She returned to her home among Boston's bluebloods, too shocked to sleep, but with a fierce determination to pour whatever strength she had into a fight to correct this evil. Her struggle to achieve humane treatment for the mentally ill never faltered during the forty years which followed that momentous day in 1841.

First she collected facts, learning that treating the insane as dangerous animals was regarded by most people as perfectly appropriate, since they were considered depraved. Attendants at the jails and almshouses often charged visitors from 10 to 25 cents for visits to the "crazy house." For the entertainment of the visitors the insane were goaded to rage by being prodded with sticks. This is the way the mentally ill were treated in the United States of America, little more than a century ago!

Miss Dix proceeded to focus public attention on the situation in East Cambridge. Public officials condemned her conduct as "unwomanly," but after a vigorous battle, a stove and sanitary facilities were installed. For two years, she quietly collected a shocking dossier of evidence concerning conditions in the rest of her state. Then she wrote a remarkable document, "Memorial to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts." In direct prose, she named places and described victims -- a woman at Newton chained to the wall of a toilet, a youth at Groton with six feet of heavy steel chain connecting his neck to the wall. The gentlemen of the legislature, to whom she directed the report squirmed as she cited case after case of persons chained naked and beaten into obedience with rods. With dispatch, they set aside rooms for two hundred mentally ill patients at Worcester Hospital.

After collecting data in Rhode Island, she wrote an article for the Providence Journal, describing in vivid detail the treatment of one Abraham Simmons whom she had found chained in a seven by seven cell in Little Compton, with no window and no heat. The keeper admitted that his cell was double-walled so that he would not be disturbed by Simmons' piercing screams. She concluded her article by commenting that she supposed the citizens of Rhode Island considered themselves Christians, but she doubted if they could pray to the God of Abraham Simmons, imprisoned in his filthy, freezing cell. Overnight Simmons became a nationally known martyr. The state's legislators speedily provided better treatment for the mentally ill.

Eventually Miss Dix moved her fight to every state east of the Rocky Mountains and then to Canada. In three years, she traveled over ten thousand miles by stage, horseback, steamboats, and primitive trains, visiting over eight hundred jails, almshouses, and houses of refuge. Her courage was endless. Repeatedly she walked alone into filthy dungeons where alleged maniacs were chained; in New Jersey, after being warned that a certain man was extremely dangerous, she walked directly into his cell gently calling him by name. After staring in disbelief for a moment, the man broke down and cried. In two months he was recovered enough to work around the institution.

Everywhere she went, mental hospitals resulted from her work. She refused to have any hospitals named after her and shunned all personal publicity. She continued her fight until death stopped her at eighty. Dorothea Lynde Dix was a nonprofessional in the mental health field, and yet the impact of her remarkable life on the treatment of the mentally ill was stronger than that of any other person in our history. The fact that the task she so nobly began is still unfinished in the second half of the twentieth century should be a challenge to the conscience of every person of goodwill in our land.

To seize their present opportunities in mental health, our churches need laymen and ministers with something of the vision and courage of a Dorothea Lynde Dix. With such leaders, our churches increasingly will achieve that spirit of Christian community through which new streams of mental health will flow into our troubled world.

 

Readings

Grimes, Howard. The Rebirth of the Laity. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1962.

Hofmann, Hans, ed. Making the Ministry Relevant. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1960.

Hofmann, Hans, The Ministry and Mental Health. New York: Association Press, 1960.

Oates, Wayne E., ed. The Minister's Own Mental Health. Manhasset, N.Y.: Channel Press, 1961.

For further guidance on how a church can become an effective participant in the preventive and therapeutic aspects of the community mental health movement, the reader is directed to Community Mental Health: The Role of Church and Temple, Howard J. Clinebell, Jr., Editor (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1970).

Chapter 11: Helping the Mentally Ill and Their Families

Madness severs the strongest bonds that hold human beings together. It separates husband from wife, mother from child. It is death without death's finality and without death's dignity.( Drugs and the Mind (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1957), pp. 167-68).

-- Robert S. de Ropp

The socially visible characteristic of the psychotic person is that he becomes a stranger among his own people.( Action for Mental Health, p. 59.)

-- Action for Mental Health

The crisis of mental illness is probably the most agonizing of all human experiences for everyone directly involved. Together with suicide, mental illness constitutes the deepest of the various forms of "deep water" through which individuals and families must sometimes go. A minister occasionally encounters persons who are on the verge or in the midst of major psychotic illnesses. More frequently he is contacted by a distraught family member who does not understand what is happening and/or does not know where to turn for help. Whether he is working with the ill person or with family members, this ministry will draw on all of a pastor's resources of empathy, interpersonal sensitivity, and compassion for those caught in the tentacles of an excruciating problem.

The clergyman has a responsibility to both the ill person and his family. In relation to the psychotic person, his role is to (a) recognize the difficulty as mental illness; (b) aid the ill person in finding psychiatric help (or guiding the family in making an involuntary commitment, if the person is unwilling to accept help); © maintain a supportive pastoral relationship during treatment, whether the person is hospitalized or treated on an out-patient basis; (d) maintain a close relationship and be available for counseling during the adjustment period following treatment.

The minister has a major opportunity in helping the patient's family. Often they are living under a dark, miasmic cloud of fear, humiliation, and guilt. Of necessity, the mental health professionals concentrate the bulk of their attention on the mentally ill person himself. Except for a minimum of help from the social work department of a mental hospital or clinic, the family is left to handle the trauma largely on its own. The pastor's opportunity to stand with the family in their lonely, confused distress is one of the privileges of being a clergyman.

The minister's role in relationship to the family is to (a) help them accept the painful fact that their loved one is mentally ill; (b) assist them in getting the person to psychiatric help; © maintain a supportive counseling relationship with them to help them understand and learn from the crisis. This involves helping them work through their painful feelings about the "stigma" of mental illness and their feelings of guilt and rejection toward the ill person. (d) The minister must help them relate constructively during visits to the hospital and help prepare them for the person's return to the family environment; (e) counsel with the family of the person requiring permanent custodial care; (f) keep in close pastoral contact with the entire family during the post-treatment adjustment, and (g) mobilize a caring ministry among members of the congregation. There are few places at which a minister can invest his pastoral time more helpfully than in a supportive ministry to the mentally ill and their families.

Recognizing Mental Illness

In the early stages of some forms of mental illness, both the individual and his family may be unaware of the nature of what is occurring. The person himself often is unaware because his illness, by its very nature, causes him to lack insight about his condition. The family members may believe that the person is merely selfish, inconsiderate, or temporarily upset. If early and intensive treatment are instituted. the severity and duration of mental illnesses can be reduced in many cases. Prompt recognition can lead to appropriate treatment before a serious disorder becomes set in a treatment-resistant stage.

A minister should not attempt to diagnose the specific nature of the difficulty. This is the psychiatrist's area of competence and responsibility. But the minister should know the general symptoms of mental illness. Here are some of the signs: (a) The person believes that others are attempting to harm him, assault him sexually, or influence him in strange ways. (b) He has delusions of grandeur about himself. © He shows abrupt changes in his typical pattern of behavior. (d) He hears voices, sees visions, or smells odors which do not exist. (e) He has rigid, bizarre ideas and fears which cannot be influenced by logic. (f) He engages in a repetitious pattern of compulsive actions or obsessive thoughts. (g) He is disoriented (unaware of time, place, or personal identity). (h) He is depressed to the point of near-stupor or is strangely elated and/or aggressive. (i) He withdraws into his inner world, losing interest in normal activities.( "A Clergyman's Guide to Recognizing Serious Mental Illness" by Thomas W. Klink is a useful resource. (National Association for Mental Health Inc., 10 Columbia Circle, New York 19, New York.)

When a minister sees any of these signs, he should help get the person to psychiatric treatment without delay. Although the vast majority of mentally ill persons are not dangerous to others, the deeply depressed person is always a suicide risk. Occasionally the individual with hallucinations or feelings of persecution may strike out destructively at others. Whatever the symptom, the earlier psychiatric treatment is begun, the better the chances for full recovery. If the minister encounters signs of psychosis in counseling with an individual, he usually should inform the family or other responsible persons. Unless there is obvious danger of precipitating a suicidal or homicidal attempt, the minister should explain to the individual why he must bring the family into the picture -- whether or not he understands or agrees with this action. Unless it is unavoidable the minister should not act behind the person's back in ways that the person may interpret as betraying him or plotting against him.

Family members sometimes deny that their loved one is really mentally ill, holding on desperately to the hope that the person will "snap out of it" or that "all he needs is a good rest." Their own feelings of distress, social stigma, fear, and guilt may be too strong for them to take appropriate steps without firm support and guidance by a trusted clergyman. The minister's logical ally in this situation is the family physician. The individual and the family should be steered in his direction for an evaluation of the problem and for assistance in arranging for psychiatric treatment. A family will often accept a physician's counsel on such matters. Also he can give sedation or other emergency medical help and arrange for hospitalization.

Finding Treatment Resources

Although the family physician usually should be the key person in arranging treatment of the mentally ill person, the minister occasionally has an important role in counseling with the family concerning their decision about whether or not to hospitalize the individual against his will. Many families arc reluctant to utilize state mental hospitals because of the "snake pit" stereotype which is in their minds. Often they believe (in some cases rightly) that the social stigma in state mental hospitals is greater than in private psychiatric hospitals. This is unfortunate since private facilities are usually very expensive and the ill person will not necessarily receive better care there. The treatment may be inferior to up-to-date state hospitals and is likely to be less adequate than in Veterans Administration mental hospitals, which generally have higher standards than state hospitals.

In the light of the minister's and doctor's evaluation of the available treatment resources, the family should be able to make the painful decision concerning which course to follow. If any one of the following has a possibility of sufficing, it should be tried before commitment to a mental hospital; short-term treatment in a psychiatric unit of a general hospital, outpatient treatment in a mental health clinic, or a day care or night treatment center. There is increased awareness among mental health professionals that if possible, it is better to treat a person in his community on an outpatient basis.

Two guiding questions to ask in selecting treatment facilities are: (a) Where will the person get intensive and appropriate treatment immediately? (b) Which approach will tend to separate the person least from his geographical and familial setting and most briefly from his work? Unless the state hospital treatment is obviously inadequate, families should be discouraged from acquiring a major debt to finance private hospitalization.

The most distressing situation for the family occurs when they must take responsibility for committing a relative involuntarily. "Commitment" is a legal procedure by which a court consigns a person to a mental hospital. His status becomes that of a child. He loses his adult rights to vote, marry, and enter into contracts. The hospital authorities, functioning as though they were his parents, grant him those liberties which they regard as constructive. He is restored to adult legal rights only when they release him, declaring that he is again competent to function as an adult. It is important for the family of a person who must be committed to recognize that mental illness has already deprived their loved one of the ability to make adult judgments. Commitment merely recognizes what has already happened and protects the person while he recovers adult competence through treatment. (A helpful discussion of the problems of hospitalizing a person with mental illness is found in Counseling Your Friends by Louis J. and Lucile Cantoni (New York: The William-Frederick Press, 1961), Chapter 7).

A minister should be familiar with commitment procedures in his state so that he can help interpret them to the family. The liberalization of some state laws permits increasing numbers of voluntary admissions to state hospitals. Application for such admissions may be by the person himself or by parents (or guardians), in the case of minors. If, after a psychiatric examination, the person is found to need hospitalization, he will be admitted. In most states he can leave at any time he chooses. In the case of involuntary commitments, in some states any adult relative or friend can file a request (with the court which handles such matters) that the allegedly mentally ill person be committed. The court appoints psychiatrists who examine the individual and report to the judge, who then makes the decision. If the individual wishes to contest the action, he can have a sanity hearing before a judge or jury, with his lawyer and with testimony from his own psychiatrist. After commitment, in some states the person (or anyone on his behalf) may file a petition for his release, which initiates another court hearing.

If a person is violent and/or adamantly refuses to accept help, it may be necessary for the family to call the police who will transport him to a public psychiatric ward (in a county hospital) or to a mental hospital for observation, This is the least desirable method of getting the person to treatment, but it sometimes becomes necessary as a last resort. Unless there is no alternative, the clergyman should not be involved directly in involuntary commitment procedures since this tends to distort his future relationships with the sick person.

Help During Hospitalization

The minister has important roles in helping both the hospitalized person and his family. With both, his ministry is primarily supportive and pastoral. Even though a mental hospital has an effective chaplaincy service the patient's minister should visit him as regularly as distance permits. This is assuming, of course, that such a call is desired by the person and there is no psychiatric reason why it would be disturbing. It is good procedure for the minister to phone the hospital in advance of a call to ascertain whether the medical staff feels that the person should have visitors at a certain stage in his recovery. Pastoral visits are usually encouraged by the medical staff. The minister is often allowed to visit during the first week or ten days within which visits by the family are not permitted in many mental hospitals.

An experienced mental hospital chaplain, Ernest E. Bruder, describes the importance of pastoral visits:

Much can be said about the deep psychological significance of a friendly visit from one's pastor. It can be one of the most constructive contributions to the patient's recovery. The very nature of the patient's illness has led him to believe himself to be ostracized. Thus, when a representative of the community calls -- and that representative is a clergyman -- it often encourages the patient to feel that he may not be as evil or wicked and hopeless as he felt himself to be. This is one of the most helpful contributions possible to the increase of the patient's self-esteem and as such -- his ability to get well.( The Church and Mental Health, p. 189.) Chaplain Bruder recommends that calls be brief; that the patient not be argued with, admonished, or criticized; and that the minister avoid making any promises which cannot be met helpfully. Prayer and scriptures should be used only when they are welcome and when the pastor has some insight concerning what they mean to the patient. When used they should be brief, affirmative, and supportive in nature.

A talk with the patient's doctor, preferably before the first visit, can be helpful in ministering both to the patient and to his family. The minister's understanding of the nature and prognosis of the problem puts him in a stronger position to help guide the family and interpret the patient's behavior and the therapy to them. This can assist them in facing the realities of the situation while avoiding unnecessary anxieties.

In order to minister effectively to the family, the minister needs to strive for '`heart-understanding" of their inner world. When the evidence becomes inescapable that a member of one's family is mentally ill, each family responds in its own unique way to this painful realization, depending on previous relationships within the family circle. Some families fragment while others unite under the crisis. Each individual responds with his own inner attitudes and feelings about mental illness. From his culture he has probably soaked up automatic responses of shame and stigma. Such feelings often are present even in persons with "enlightened" ideas about mental illness. People respond psychologically, not logically, to mental illness, particularly when it intrudes cruelly into their own family. Robert S. de Ropp's words, quoted at the beginning of this chapter, put the matter accurately and forcefully: "Madness severs the strongest bonds that hold human beings together . . . It is death without death's finality and without death's dignity."

The family's response is more than a reaction to the social stigma which still clings, leech-like, to mental illness. It is a response to the bizarre changes in the ill person himself which makes him a "stranger among his own people." It is a response to the disruption of essential family interaction, the disturbance of usual family patterns, the financial insecurity which arises from both the heavy costs of treatment and, in the case of the breadwinner, the loss of family income. During the development of mental illness, family life may be a nightmarish chaos. The natural self-protective tendency of the family is to retreat from social contacts to escape the social stigma they fear. But drawing into a shell only compounds the sense of isolation and the spiraling fear and hostility within their closed windowless walls.

The pastor who has some understanding of the family's inner world can be of inestimable help to them. Just knowing that he understands, cares, and stands beside them in their darkness probably helps them more than anything he does. He can assist the family in avoiding the automatic response of hopelessness which the majority of us have when mental illness strikes. Such a response is no longer valid in the light of the dramatic progress that has been made during the last decade in treating mental illness (see Chap. 5). It is important to acquaint the family with the new hope and help that is available without reassuring them in ways that will leave them unprepared to handle the grim possibility that treatment of their loved one may not be effective.

There are other things a minister can do to help the family. He can help them ventilate and clarify their swirling chaotic feelings about what is happening. In many cases, these feelings have been accumulating during the long weeks, months, or even years of growing stress preceding hospitalization. Guilt, hostility, and fear usually form a vicious alliance in the deeper feelings of the family members. Mental illness has hit one whose life is merged with theirs at many points. Thus, the illness has struck a blow at a part of their own psychological fields. If they are particularly fortunate they will have access to a mental hospital which holds regular family orientation or, better, family counseling sessions. If not, their contacts with the hospital staff will probably be frustratingly brief and totally inadequate to give them the amount of help needed in handling their own crisis and in relating constructively with their patient. The sensitive clergyman's ministry of listening and interpretation can help fill this need.

As the minister functions in this way he may become gradually aware of the ways in which the problems of the ill person and those of the family intertwine. He should, of course, not suggest to the family that this is true. To do so would be to push a threatening truth on them at the very time they need most to deny it. Eventually, if they have the capacity to learn and grow from the experience, they will be able to examine and rectify their interaction with the ill person.

There is a variety of practical ways in which a minister and his key laymen can help the family. To illustrate, if it is the mother who is ill, someone can be found to care for the children while the father is at work or visiting the mother. If it is the father, guidance in finding financial help during the crisis is often needed. The congregation should be encouraged to rally around the family quietly, in order to help them resist the temptation to withdraw from the sustaining, perspective-giving relationships with the extended family (including the church), which they need desperately. Maintaining a web of meaningful relationships is crucially important to the family at this point.

A simple but effective way for a congregation to express its concern for a family reeling under a heavy blow is for a number of persons to take them gifts of food. Not only does this have practical value at a time when family members may not have the time or energy to fix meals but it also has a profound symbolic meaning on the level of feeding and nurturing. A casserole may have more meaning than a prayer under certain circumstances.

There are several books and pamphlets which are useful in ministering to the family of the mentally ill. The classic in the field is by Edith M. Stern, Mental Illness: A Guide for the Family.( (4th ed.: New York: Harper & Row, 1962). It is a detailed manual which may help the family understand the various stages of hospitalization and posthospital care. The Family and Mental Illness by Samuel Southard ((Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1957). This book contains an insightful description of the family crisis resulting from mental illness.)

has a pastoral emphasis but lacks some of the detailed answers to the family's questions about hospitalization, which is the strength of the Stern book. A mental hospital chaplain and a psychiatrist collaborated in producing a valuable pamphlet, "Ministering to the Families of the Mentally Ill." (By A. F. Ward and G. L Jones. This pamphlet can be obtained from the National Association for Mental Health, 10 Columbus Circle, New York, New York.) The Public Affairs pamphlet series includes "When Mental Illness Strikes Your Family" (K C. Doyle, Public Affairs pamphlet #172.) which is helpful to the family in coping with this crisis.

The Patient Who Does Not Return

The most difficult adjustment a family can be required to make occurs when a mental patient does not respond to treatment and becomes chronically ill. To the family, the person is in a sense dead and yet he is not dead. The normal bereavement process -- "grief work" -- cannot proceed since the person is not gone and the grief wound is infected. Such a wound cannot heal. Even though pitifully crippled psychologically and unable to show his need, the patient continues to need attention from the family. Unfortunately, his negative responses may help alienate them. I recall one mental hospital in which some six hundred patients received not a single Christmas card. Many of these had been abandoned by their relatives.

Edith Stern's book contains a brief but helpful chapter on the chronic patient. She writes to the family:

No matter how remote you regard the possibility of recovery, never abandon a patient.... It is pitiful to see mental hospital inhabitants who have not had a caller for perhaps twenty years groom themselves and wait hopefully on visiting day. Often the fact that someone related by blood or marriage still cares is the only thing in life to which a patient clings -- and this holds good even if he displays apparent indifference or antagonism to anyone and everyone. If the regular letter writer and visitor in your family dies, be sure that someone else takes over. (Mental Illness: A Guide for the Family)

This advice also applies to the ongoing ministry of pastoral care (by both laymen and clergymen). The chronically ill sheep are still members of the flock. Often, their need for shepherding is great. Fortunately, with newer methods of treatment (remotivation, for example), some persons who had been regarded as "hopeless" or "untreatable" for years are now responding.

A related problem is the pastoral care of the family in which there is a harmless, ambulatory psychotic who has been given all that psychiatry has to offer but has not been helped. A supportive ministry to such a person and his family can be a godsend. Here, for instance, is the husband of a mildly and chronically paranoid woman. The help he receives from the worship services and an occasional talk with his minister is a major factor in helping him carry a staggering load.

It may help the families of persons with chronic mental illness to become involved in volunteer service in a community mental health project or a mental hospital. This can reduce the feelings of blind frustration and channel some of their blocked concern into socially constructive efforts.

When the Patient Returns from the Hospital

It is reliably estimated that readmission rates to mental hospitals could be reduced from almost thirty-five percent to around ten percent were adequate medical, social, and vocational aftercare facilities available. Unfortunately, few states provide more than minimal aftercare services to help patients bridge the yawning chasm between the moment of discharge and satisfying functioning in the community. The Joint Commission on Mental Health and Illness reported in 1961 that aftercare services were in a "primitive stage of development almost everywhere." (Action for Mental Health, p. xvii.) Halfway houses (where small groups of patients who are not ready to return to their homes live together and receive help in social rehabilitation), day hospitals, foster home services, rehabilitation centers, and ex-patient clubs are still in short supply in all parts of our country. Thousands of relapses could be prevented if there were an abundance of such facilities. This is one of the major mental health challenges of the 1960's(For a graphic description of the problem of aftercare and examples of what is being done in scattered places, sec "Mental Aftercare: Assignment for the Sixties" by Emma Harrison, Public Affairs Pamphlet #318. C. A. Chambers' dissertation "A Determination of the Extent to Which Certain Protestant Churches Can Meet the Needs of Former Mental Patients" (Temple University, 1960) describes the church's role.)

The acute shortage of community aftercare resources increases the responsibility of the local church in meeting this vital need. As shown by C. A. Chamber's research, churches can respond effectively to this need. A refreshing example of direct congregational action in providing aftercare facilities is Baker Street House in San Francisco. This is a halfway house sponsored by a Methodist church in that area. It serves as a residence for young adults who have been released from mental hospitals and for those who are receiving treatment at outpatient psychiatric services. These persons live there with other young adults who have no major psychological problems. Residents participate in resident government, cook for themselves cooperatively, take part in both spontaneous and planned recreation and educational activities, and receive guidance they may desire in such matters as seeking employment and utilizing health and educational agencies in the community. Residents stay at least a month and no longer than 18 months. The setting is designed to serve as a springboard to more permanent living situations. The house is co-educational. House parents are responsible for program and administration. They fill the role which Erik Erikson calls the "adult guarantors." The sponsoring committee from the church takes responsibility for guiding the financial operation of the house. Committee members spend considerable time at the house interacting informally with the residents. The sponsoring committee and the houseparents receive regular training and counseling. (Twenty-three people from the church completed a sixteen-week training course in preparation for opening this facility.) The Glide Foundation launched the project and provides leadership-training. This halfway house provides a supportive interpersonal environment with a combination of peer group discipline and freedom. Here the recovering young adults may learn new social skills and test them out in actual relationships of the house. They can do reality-testing in an accepting group. This is a form of "social therapy" complementing the psychiatric treatment which is available in other facilities. Leaders of this project report that the church people involved have become excited with its obvious value. They believe that the churches can do a more effective job than any other agency in this area of great need and that such involvement can bring churches alive with a new sense of mission.

The minister can work with the family and with key laymen in his congregation to help prepare them to receive the discharged mental patient in a way that will contribute to his full recovery. Mental patients about to be discharged usually face the outside world with considerable anxiety about how their families, friends, and potential employers will react to them as "ex-mental patients." Families and friends are also anxious. How the ex-patient is received by the important people in his life (including, in many cases, his fellow church members), and whether he is able to find a job are important factors in determining whether or not he suffers a relapse. Finding employment is often difficult because of prejudice against those who have had major psychiatric problems. In some cases a minister can help the mentally restored person by contacting potential employers in the congregation.

Edith Stern's Mental Illness: A Guide for the Family has an excellent chapter on what to do when the patient comes home. And Lauren H. Smith, former Chairman of the Council on Mental Health of the A.M.A. gives this list of "Do's and Don'ts" to help an expatient:

Do . . . Give support, encouragement, respect and affection . . . Expect in general the same kind of conduct you would from anyone else . . . Be optimistic about the ability to change . . . Recognize the right to disagree . . . Keep up prescribed medicine.

Don't . . . Be over solicitous or encourage dependency . . . Be de- manding, disrespectful or rejecting . . . Threaten a return to the hospital . . . Agree with "extreme" talk or attitudes . . . Talk behind his back ("When a Mental Patient Comes Home," This Week (January 6, 1963).

There is almost always a period of readjustment to living outside the hospital and often the person has some residual symptoms. These take patience and understanding on the part of the family. Many families are "jumpy" with the ex-patient, fearing that every ripple of his emotional sea foretells a relapse. When they are beset by such worries, they should be encouraged to contact the psychiatrist who treated the person. The period of readjustment is especially difficult for many families because the mental illness is intimately related to family relationships. It behooves the minister to stay close to the families in his congregation who are in the throes of such an adjustment. The steadying influence of a concerned person from outside the family may be precisely what is needed.

The minister with training in counseling can perform a valuable service by being available to counsel with parishioners who are completing their recovery following discharge from a mental hospital. Before attempting anything beyond supportive counseling, it is wise to check with the psychiatrist, if possible. Ernest E. Bruder's volume, Ministering to Deeply Troubled People (Ernest E. Bruder [Englewood Cliffs, N. J.: Prentice-Hall, 1963.]) should be regarded as prerequisite reading for counseling with the mentally ill. Bruder's depth understanding of the "wilderness of the lost" makes this book a moving experience. He points out that persons with mental illness can be our teachers if we dare get close to them. Any minister who is tempted to assume that counseling with persons who are in the process of recovering from mental illness should be entirely the province of the psychiatrist, ``rill find himself confronted by this paragraph:

Mental illness . . . is involved with faith -- faith in the Ultimate, faith in each other, faith in ourselves. Distortion and conflict in any one area affect all areas. Whether it is expressed in religious terms or not, the meaning of life, values, destiny -- ultimates -- are matters of faith and therefore are religious concerns. This is the area of the clergyman. Faith proceeds from trust and trust arises from the good relationships that we have with others.(Ibid., p. 70)

Anton Boisen's view that mental illness is often a religious crisis -- a last-ditch effort of the psyche to find a new orientation of meaning, correlates with Bruder's view of mental illness.

Bruder recommends this approach to persons recovering from mental illness:

Fundamentally . . . the minister seeks to understand what the patient has experienced in his living which has made it necessary for him to become mentally ill. He does his best when he offers the patient the greatest gift he has -- the gift of himself, rooted and grounded in the Being of God. His own friendly interest, his own reaching out with concern, his own desire to be helpful through a trained and understanding use of his unique religious resources -- these are the things the patient needs. Being exposed to this attitude in the minister, the troubled person comes to feel encouraged to reach out of the loneliness of his isolation for the help which is available.(Ibid., p. 70)

Ministering to the Suicidal Person

In the United States every sixty seconds, someone attempts to end his own life.( Karl Menninger in the Foreword to Clues to Suicide by E. S. Shneidman and N. L. Farberow (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Co., 1957). Some fifty times a day persons succeed in doing so. Suicide ranks ninth among the causes of death in our country. Each year some 18,000 persons destroy their lives. Probably five times this number attempt to do so. Reflecting on their experiences at the "Suicide Prevention Center" in Los Angeles, E. S. Schneidman and N. L. Farberow point out that all suicides, whether attempted or committed, "involves tremendous disruption of life, emotional turmoil, social discord." (Norman L Farberow and Edwin S. Schncidman (eds.), The Cry for Help (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Co., 1961), p. 4.) Any minister who has dealt with the impact of suicide on a family can vouch for the accuracy of this statement.

Concerning the minister's role in preventing suicides, psychiatrist Herbert M. Hendin declares:

For some time now it has been evident that concerted effort and awareness on the part of those in close contact with the potential suicidal person could greatly reduce the number of actual suicides. Since members of the family are often too much involved themselves to see the oncoming development of suicide in one of their number, it is here that the minister may well save a life.( "What the Pastor Ought to Know About Suicide," Pastoral Psychology (December, 1953), p. 41.)

How does one recognize a potential suicide? Suicides occur most often among the following: (a) Those who threaten suicide. The old belief that "those who talk about suicide don't commit suicide" is a deadly fallacy. Of every ten persons who kill themselves, eight have given definite warning of their intentions.( "Some Facts About Suicide," Public Health Service Publication #852, 1961, p. 3.) The only safe rule to follow is this -- all suicidal threats must be taken seriously. Even the person who has no intention of killing himself, but who uses the threat to force others to take care of him, pay attention to him, or do what he demands, is emotionally disturbed and in serious need of psychiatric help. All suicide threats are serious, but they are especially dangerous if the person is an older male. Men kill themselves twice as frequently as women, although women attempt suicide twice as often as men. In general suicide attempts are more apt to be successful among older persons. (b) Persons who express feelings about their lives being empty, meaningless, worthless or "no longer needed" by anyone may be making suicide threats in disguise. (c) Any seriously depressed person, whatever the cause. One or more of these signs may accompany psychological depression -- feeling of a "heavy weight" on one's mind, loss of interest in normal activities, severe insomnia, undiminishing fatigue, feelings of "What's the use?", loss of appetites for food and sex, tension and agitation, social withdrawal, general motor retardation. (d) Persons who have experienced major losses which deprive them of a dependency person or of a source of self-esteem such as a highly valued job. (e) Those with protracted illnesses. Feelings of hopelessness and helplessness, particularly if the person is in intense pain, are danger signs. (f) Persons who suddenly make plans for death (making a will or getting their affairs in order) This is a warning sign if they are also generally unhappy or depressed. (g) Those suffering from pathological grief reactions. (h) Those suffering from mental illness. Suicides are frequent among schizophrenics, psychopathic personalities, alcoholics, and those with psychotic depressions. A suicide attempt may signal the onset of a psychotic episode.

If a minister knows or suspects that an individual is suicidal, he should inform the family or other responsible person and strongly recommend that psychiatric help be obtained at once. If no psychiatrist is available, any medical doctor will do. In an emergency, the person can be taken to a county hospital or the emergency service of any general hospital.

In talking with a person suspected or recognized as suicidal, the minister should encourage him to talk openly about it. This will tend to rob suicide of some of its distorted appeal to the person and give the minister an opportunity to help. The fear of suggesting suicide to a person who has no suicidal thoughts by raising the question, is largely unfounded. The minister should offer the person help and hope. If he does not respond to this offer, he has probably given up. If so, the minister should not let him out of his sight until some other responsible person has taken charge. If the person is intent on killing himself, the minister (and others) should use whatever persuasion or coercion is necessary to block this. For example, if the suicidal person believes that he is doing what is best for his children, it should be pointed out forcefully that leaving them with the psychological burden of his suicide is the worst thing he could do for them. If a person is determined to destroy himself, and this feeling continues over a long period of time, it is often next to impossible to prevent his death. Hospitalization of such a person is essential. Fortunately, most suicidal persons have ambivalent feelings about dying and self-destructive impulses ordinarily diminish, given time. Sixty-five per cent of those who make one unsuccessful suicide attempt do not try suicide again. The majority of second attempts occur in the ninety days after the first. This is the most critical period.

The clergyman who has a community resource such as the Los Angeles Suicide Prevention Center (For more information write Suicide Prevention Center, P. O. Box 31398, Los Angeles 51, California.) is very fortunate. The People's Church of Chicago sponsors a telephone answering service labeled simply "Emergency Call." The phone book carries this ad: "Emergency Call; Don't let worry end in tragedy. Call Longbeach 1-9595 day or night. A sympathetic minister will be happy to talk with you." When calls come from those in serious trouble, a minister in the caller's district is notified. If the case is urgent, the women who answer the phone try to hold the caller on the phone until a physician or the police can be alerted.( V. A. Kraft, "Suicide Call," Christian Advocate (March 17, 1960), pp. 9- 10.)

One's Own Attitude Toward the Seriously Disturbed

In the final analysis, one's own deep feelings about mental illness and suicide will determine one's effectiveness in this type of pastoral care. Because each of us is in our culture as a fish is in water, the stigma of mental illness is in our deeper feelings to some degree. If these feelings are strong, they will block our effectiveness in ministering to the mentally ill person and his family.

One of several values of clinical pastoral training in a mental hospital is that it provides an opportunity to work through feelings about oneself in relation to deeply disturbed persons. However it occurs a ministering person needs to achieve something of a fellow feeling for the mentally ill person -- to get beyond the labels he has been given and become aware of a suffering fellow human being. As psychiatrist Frieda Fromm-Reichmann once put it, "Unless one believes and feels that the most regressed catatonic, on the back ward of the mental hospital, is more alike than different from oneself, one will be of little help to the mentally ill person." (Lecturer at the William A. White Institute of Psychiatry, 1948).

There are a number of factors which converge to produce the attitudes of rejection which many ex-mental patients experience (See Chap. 5). These include the fear that the person's irrational side will break through again; fear. of our own irrational impulses of which this illness reminds us; resentment of his irritating behavior; resentment of the threat to family pride which his former condition continues to pose; and the painful confrontation with the dark unknown in human life. (1 am indebted to Camilla M. Anderson for pointing me to the two final factors.)

In discussing the minister's work with the mentally ill, Ernest Bruder writes pointedly that "what a minister is in himself matters far more than what he does." He continues in this searching vein:

Only when he has dared to allow himself to experience something of the suffering and joys of his own living, when he has come to terms with his own experiences, is he in a position to appreciate similar feelings in others.... If the pastor has a keen awareness of what we have come to regard as the interpersonal hurt of his patient; knows the desperate and yet fatal need of the patient to evade further pain, no matter by what means, and often by striking out and hurting loved ones; feels something of the almost overwhelming and intolerable anxiety the patient experiences; is not too shaken by the terror evoked through what Kierkegaard expressed as "shut-up-ness unfreely revealed"; and can accept the consequent intense feelings of guilt and shame which isolate the patient from himself, from others and from God, then his ministry has within it the necessary element for a supportive and creative experience for the patient.( Ministering to Deeply Troubled People, p. 70.)

A therapeutic attitude is essential for working redemptively with any troubled person -- an alcoholic, a prisoner, a suicidal person, a mental patient, or the families of any of these. That the helping person possesses something of this attitude is vastly more important than the particular counseling techniques he uses in such a relationship. The late Otis Rice who did some of the pioneering work in pastoral counseling with alcoholics once commented that to help an alcoholic, one must love him, and this isn't easy, since a drinking alcoholic can be very unlovable. One thing that had helped him, Rice reported, was "to remember that God loves the alcoholic, that he also loves Otis Rice, and then to remember how much God has to put up with in loving Otis Rice." (Talk before the New York Academy of Medicine, 1952.)

A retired minister, Harold W. Ruopp of Minneapolis, while reflecting on his life, provided a striking illustration of what I mean by a therapeutic attitude. In retrospect, he identified three stages in his ministry. In the first stage, he tried to stand outside the life process as a spectator rather than a participant. He used an analogy to describe this stage -- that of sitting on a riverbank preaching '`helpful" sermons to the swimmers struggling in the current. In the second stage of his ministry a few years later he became a kind of lifeguard -- a great helper "humbly proud" of his role, from time to time jumping into the river to put his arm around someone going down for the third time. As soon as he got him steadied to swim again, he would return to his place on the bank to wait for the next person who needed saving.

The third stage of his ministry came, he recalls, because of circumstances beyond his control in his own life. From then on, he was in the river all the time! Instead of always trying to hold someone else up, he gladly permitted another person to hold him up. Instead of being the savior, he realized that he too needed saving. Again and again, he found that the humblest person had his arm around him, even as he tried to support that person. He concludes: "In the admission of great weakness, I found great strength. In the willingness to be helped, I became a better helper." (The original form of this illustration appeared in Harold W. Ruopp's recently published book of sermons, One Life Isn't Enough (St. Paul, Minn.: Macalester Park Publishing Co., 1965), in the section "Postscript."

This is the therapeutic attitude! A minister or layman who has it will be of genuine help to individuals and families who are "going through deep waters."

 

Readings

Bruder, Ernest E. Ministering to Deeply Troubled People. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1963.

Farberow, Norman L., and Schneidman, Edwin S., eds. The Cry for Help. New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company, 1961.

Southard, Samuel. The Family and Mental Illness. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1957.

Stern, Edith. Mental Illness: A Guide for the Family. 4th ed., New York: Harper & Row, 1962.

Chapter 10: Pastoral Counseling and Mental Health

In itself psycho-analysis is neither religious nor non-religious, but an impartial tool which both priest and layman can use in the service of the sufferer. I am very much struck by the fact that it never occurred to me how extraordinarily helpful the psychoanalytic method might be in pastoral work.( Sigmund Freud and Osker Pfister, Psychoanalysis and Faith, trans. Eric Mosbacher ;New York: Basic Books, 1963), p. 17.)

-- Sigmund Freud

The most significant direct contribution of clergymen to mental health is their counseling and shepherding of troubled persons.( Action for Mental Health, p. 134.) In his report on the activities of the churches in the mental health field, Richard- V. McCann declares: "The minister as counselor is perhaps the one role in which the relations between religion and mental health are most sharply illuminated," (The Churches and Mental Health, p. 46.)

No one really knows how much time the typical clergyman spends in counseling. The ministers in McCann's study averaged only 2.2 hours per week in formal counseling relationships. In contrast, a survey of the activities of thirty-four clergymen in suburban Pittsburgh showed that they spend thirty percent of their time in counseling at least thirteen hours each week.( J. W. Eaton, et al., "Pastoral Counseling in a Metropolitan Suburb," Journal of Pastoral Care (Summer, 1963), pp. 93ff.) In any case, the total investment of pastoral energies in counseling is impressive. If the 246,600 clergymen serving churches in this country average only 2.2 hours per week, a remarkable total of over half a million (542,520) hours of pastoral counseling occurs weekly. The fact that these hours are frequently spent with persons whose mental health is in jeopardy gives counseling a qualitative significance for mental health which far outweighs the quantitative investment of pastoral time.

Troubled people are more apt to seek help from a clergyman than from a member of any other professional group. This puts the minister in a strategic and demanding position. An oft-quoted study of a cross-section of the American adult population revealed that one out of every seven Americans has sought professional help with a personal problem. Of these, forty-two percent went to clergymen, twenty-nine percent went to family doctors, eighteen percent to psychiatrists and psychologists, and ten percent to a special agency or clinic.( Americans View Their Mental Health, p. 307). Ministers are on the front lines in the efforts to help the burdened and the troubled.

In most small communities the only professional people available for counseling are ministers, physicians, and lawyers. Although the minister's counseling training may be less than adequate, he ordinarily has considerably more such training than persons in law and medicine. In the study just cited, sixty-five percent of those who had consulted clergymen reported being "helped" or "helped a lot"; another thirteen percent indicated that they were helped to a lesser degree.(Ibid., p. 319) Clergymen led the helping professions in the proportion of counselees who expressed satisfaction with the results of counseling. In spite of the limited training in counseling of many ministers, the majority apparently function with impressive effectiveness. As more and more clergymen receive clinical and academic training in counseling, the quality of ministerial work with the heavy-laden will continue to rise. The mental health potentialities which can be realized by increasing the availability of skilled pastoral counseling are immense!

In addition to formal counseling, the general work of pastoral care involves rich opportunities for informal counseling. Pastoral care is the multifaceted ministry of caring for the spiritual welfare and growth of persons of all ages. This function is invaluable as a sustaining, nurturing influence in the lives of millions of people. The minister's caring symbolizes the caring of the religious community and of God and is expressed in many ways -- for example, a friendly word as people leave the worship service, a congratulatory note when a member is honored by his company, a visit to welcome a new family to the community, and the vital pastoral ministries in the pivot points and crises of life -- marriage, birth, death, confirmation, sickness, accidents, and so forth. For countless persons, this supportive ministry is indispensable to the maintenance of robust mental health. Over the years many times as many people are helped through a minister's general pastoring as are helped through formal counseling.

The Heritage of Pastoral Care and Counseling

The clergyman as counselor has a heritage which is many centuries older than those of the mental health disciplines. As Robert Leslie indicates, "For centuries the church was the only agency concerned with the maladjusted." (Unpublished PhD. dissertation, Boston University, 1948, p. 10) Counseling is one aspect of a concern for healing which has been integral to the Hebrew-Christian tradition through the centuries. In recent years there has been an astonishing flowering of this ancient pastoral concern; it has been watered by streams of new insight concerning man which flow from the behavioral sciences and from the new methods of the psychotherapeutic disciplines. These new resources enable clergymen to fulfill their traditional helping functions with new vigor and effectiveness.

The counseling pastor walks in the footsteps of the great pastors of the past. He seeks to follow the example of one who was called the "Great Physician" whose healing influence brought release of the captives of inner conflict, recovery of sight to the spiritually blind, and let the broken victims of mental illness go free. To some, it must have seemed that he devoted a disproportionate amount of time to the sick. But he knew that it is the sick who need a physician, that those in crises are both more in need of and more open to help. The counseling pastor works beside the modern Jericho roads with people robbed of happiness and beaten by their fears, their guilts, and by the savage cruelty with which disease, pain, and death often strike. It is in response to the raw stuff of human suffering that a person-centered minister functions as counselor.

The Nature and Uniqueness of Pastoral Counseling

Counseling is the utilization of a one-to-one or small group relationship to help persons handle their problems in living more adequately. In contrast to psychotherapy, it is usually short-term (ten sessions or less) and does not aim at radical changes in personality. It deals mainly with contemporary relationships and problems rather than exploring childhood relationships. Its aim is to help a person mobilize his inner resources for handling a crisis; for making a difficult decision; for adjusting constructively to an unalterable problem; or for improving his interpersonal relationships, including his relationship with God.

The heart of counseling is the establishing of a warm, accepting, honest relationship between pastor and parishioner. As Carroll Wise has pointed out, the counseling relationship is simply an intensification of the same quality of relatedness which should exist throughout the life of a church. Experiments conducted under Carl R. Roger's direction demonstrated that growth tends to occur in a counselee when three qualities are present in the counselor: congruence (authenticity, inner openness, self-honesty), unconditional positive regard (warm caring and respect for persons), and empathic understanding (entering into another's inner world of feelings and meanings) .(Carl R. Rogers, On Becoming a Person [Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1961], pp. 263Ff.) Carl G. Jung also emphasized the importance of the counselor's personality: "Learn your theories as well as you can, but put them aside when you touch the miracle of the living soul. Not theories but your own creative individuality alone must decide."( Carl G. Jung, Psychological Religious Reflections [New York: Pantheon Books, 1953], p. 73.)

A psychiatrist (who is an active churchman) writes: "My hope is that we may develop a more intensive in-reaching mission, a ministry to those lost within themselves in our own congregations." ("The Terror of Good Works," p. 250.) This is the goal of pastoral care and counseling. It is an instrument for implementing the basic purpose of the church -- increase of love of God and neighbor -- by helping to release the ability to love in those in whom this ability has been blocked or crippled.

The mental health potentialities of counseling by a minister can best be realized when he is cognizant and appreciative of the uniqueness of his counseling role. What are the clergyman's particular contributions within the general field of counseling and psychotherapy?

(1) To some extent the minister is unique among the counseling professions in his training. Unlike most other counselors, he is trained in philosophy, theology, comparative religions, and psychology of religious experience. This training should equip him to be of special help to those whose problems root in an unsuccessful search for a philosophy of life which would give meaning to their existence. The minister's training should help him develop expertness in facilitating growth in the relationships of persons with God. Paul Tillich describes pastoral counseling as a "helping encounter in the ultimate dimension." (Address at the National Conference on Clinical Pastoral Education, Atlantic City, November, 1956.)

(2) The clergyman is unique among counselors in his explicit goal of spiritual growth. Any counseling which enhances a person's ability to relate to another makes for greater vitality in his relationship with God. Most religiously oriented counselors, however, regard the development of a more mature relationship with God as essential for personality wholeness. The fact that a minister has a continuing concern for the quality of his counselee's relationship with God, whether or not this is ever discussed in theological terms, inevitably influences the nature of the relationship and the direction of counseling. For many people, God is dead. He can come alive for them only as they are able to remove the blocks to awareness of his living presence. These blocks usually stem from distortions in early relationships which can be reduced through experiencing grace -- unearned acceptance and love -- in a counseling relationship (or elsewhere) .

A minister should be aware of the theological realities with which he deals constantly in counseling -- guilt, grace, sin, alienation (from God, oneself and others), the terror of meaninglessness and death, the dark, "demonic" destructiveness of inner conflicts, the struggle for rebirth to wider dimensions of relationships, and the powerful, God-given drive toward wholeness. It may be helpful for the counselor to point out to persons from religious backgrounds that they are dealing with profound theological (as well as psychological) realities in the counseling experience. With others, the use of "religious" language may actually block religious growth. A theological student, reflecting on his clinical training experience, described it as "theology on an experiential level." This is precisely what effective pastoral counseling is. The ultimate goal of such counseling is spiritual rebirth through loving reconciliation with oneself, others, and God.

(3) The minister is unique among counselors in his professional role. Because he is a religious authority figure, people spontaneously project on him a rich variety of associations from their early life, including powerful feelings about such matters as God, heaven, hell, sex, parents, Sunday school, death, sin, and guilt. This provides a sensitive clergyman with a superb opportunity to help people mature in these emotionally charged attitudes. Through their relationship with him, he can help them grow in their relationships with all authority figures, including the supreme authority, God. This will occur most readily if his professional self-identity is clearly that of a minister.

Unique dimensions in pastoral counseling are derived from the minister's role as leader of a local congregation and his function of shepherding persons from birth to death. His continuing contacts with families (often stretching over many years) give him advantages in counseling which those in no other counseling profession possess. Many people seek his help because a bridge of relationship already exists with him. Often they have trusted ministers since early childhood.

Another advantage derived from his role is the expectation that he will go to his people in their homes and places of work without a special invitation. He can often detect problems in their early stages and bring help before they have reached the final, destructive stages. As a pastor, he is normally with his people during periods of stress when major problems often develop. Unlike most counselors, he can be consulted informally, without calling the helping process "counseling" or necessarily going through the often difficult matter of appointment-making. The setting of a religious fellowship within which the minister functions as counselor offers a rich variety of group resources which can undergird, broaden, and complete many of his counseling efforts. As a counselor, the clergyman has many things in his favor.

(4) There is uniqueness in the religious instruments which the minister naturally employs when appropriate in his counseling. When used carefully, prayer, scripture, sacraments, and devotional literature can be of distinct value, particularly in supportive and crisis counseling. When used indiscriminately, these instruments can block rather than facilitate the emotional and spiritual growth of persons. Whether or not the minister uses religious tools in a particular relationship, the counselee knows that he represents the religious community and the vertical dimension of existence upon which both can draw in counseling.

Pastoral counseling should always be done in the spirit of prayer -- that is, openness to and dependence on the growth forces of the universe which constitute the source of all healing. Growth in counseling is the result of the release of these God-given resources which have been blocked within the person. The effective counselor is only a catalyst in the person-to-person interaction through which these growth-healing resources become available to the individual.

In order to avoid using religious instruments in irreligious ways (which block growth), they should be employed in counseling only after one is aware of their meaning to that person. It is wise to explore their impact on the person by inquiring after a prayer, for example, "What was going through your mind as I prayed?" The use of instruments and symbols of religion tend to strengthen the dependency aspect of a counseling relationship by stirring up childhood feelings. In some cases, this may arouse guilt feelings which block the catharsis of anger, jealousy, and sexual or destructive fantasies. The content of some prayers tends to arouse expectations of magical solutions not involving struggle on the counselee's part. In general, religious instruments should be used sparingly in insight counseling, more frequently in supportive counseling, and generously in the wider ministry of pastoral care. A prayer of thanksgiving at the close of a counseling relationship can be a beautiful way of articulating the gratitude which both pastor and parishioner feel for the mystery and miracle of healing.

Types of Parish Counseling

The client-centered approach has dominated pastoral counseling literature too long. This approach constitutes one valuable aspect of a minister's training, helping him master the art of disciplined listening and lessening the occupational tendency toward facile verbalizing. However, a minister must modify the client-centered approach in a variety of ways if he is to serve those who seek his help. A minister with only a client-centered string on his counseling fiddle often feels guilty or blocked in counseling situations requiring the constructive exercise of authority, functioning as a teacher-counselor, or serving a parishioner emotionally in a feeding role.

The father of client-centered counseling states clearly that many troubled people cannot benefit from an insight-oriented, client-centered approach because of excessive instability, aging, or unfavorable environment.( Carl R. Rogers, Counseling and Psychotherapy Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1942, pp. 61-80.) In my experience, a majority of those who seek a pastor's help cannot respond to a pure Rogerian approach. This approach is sometimes effective with reasonably intelligent, highly verbal, young or middle-aged neurotics who are strongly motivated to obtain help. Attempting to use it with troubled persons ,who lack these characteristics usually results in what a social worker, Gordon Hamilton, describes as an adventure in passivity(Howard J. Parad (ed.), Ego Psychology and Dynamic Casework (New York: Family Service Association of America. 1958), p. 26.) -- a rambling relationship which becomes an exercise in mutual frustration. Many people's capacity for insight and self-directedness is so limited, crippled, or ossified that they cannot respond to an insight-oriented approach. But, they can be helped to greater adequacy in living by varied counseling approaches involving the selective use of guidance, authority, instruction, along with a focus on improving interpersonal relationships (rather than effecting major intrapsychic changes) and seeing one's situation from a more constructive perspective.

The full person-helping potentialities of a minister's counseling can be released only if he develops skills in several basic types of counseling To some degree, these types utilize different facets of his personality. Here are the basis types of counseling which the minister is normally called on to do: (a) Marriage and family counseling, (b) supportive (including crisis) counseling, (c) counseling for referral, (d) short-term educative and decision-making counseling, (e) superego counseling, (f) informal counseling, (g) group counseling, (h) religious-existential problem counseling. Several of these types usually are employed in the same counseling situation.

Before looking more closely at these types, the ingredients which all effective counseling approaches have in common should be mentioned:

(a) Establishing a growing therapeutic relationship through warm nonjudgmental concern. (b) Disciplined listening to and reflecting the parishioner's feelings. (This encourages the pouring out or catharsis of bottled-up feelings which is like draining the poison off a wound.) (c) Seeking a growing understanding of the person's "internal frame of reference." (d) Gaining a diagnostic impression concerning the nature of his problems, his weaknesses, and inner resources. (e) On the basis of this tentative diagnosis, suggesting an approach to help. These general procedures have been discussed in standard books on pastoral counseling.( See, for example, Seward Hiltner, Pastoral Counseling (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1949), Rogers, Counseling and Psychotherapy, pp. 83-173, and Carroll A. Wise, Pastoral Counseling: Its theory and Practice (New York: Harper & Row, 1951), pp. 39-114). The mastery of skill in establishing and utilizing a therapeutic relationship in these ways is the foundation upon which the minister can build a differential approach to the major types of pastoral counseling.

Marriage and Family Counseling

A minister needs to be reasonably proficient in all eight varieties of counseling, but he should acquire a high degree of expertness in three types -- marriage counseling, crisis counseling (especially bereavement), and counseling on religious-existential problems. In these types he should be among the most skilled persons in his community. Because of his socially defined role, he occupies a strategic position of opportunity to help persons in these areas.

In the nationwide mental health survey mentioned earlier in this chapter, nearly sixty percent of clergy counseling opportunities were family problems (forty-two percent marriage, twelve percent parent-child and five percent other family relationship problems). (Americans View Their Mental Health, p. 305.) The clergyman's natural entree to families gives him a major advantage in this type of counseling. There can be no doubt that skill in marriage and family counseling is essential for an effective ministry!

There are two basically different approaches to marriage counseling. One method consists of individual counseling with one or preferably both parties. The goal is to help both achieve sufficient personal growth so that they can relate more maturely in marriage. The assumptions of this approach are that problems between people always reflect problems within them (which is true) and that the problems within must be dealt with to improve their relationship (which is not always the case). For the pastor, this method has serious drawbacks. It requires extensive training and ordinarily is highly time-consuming. Distorted feedback between the partners sometimes damages the counseling relationships. "The minister said . . ." is misused in moments of anger between the partners. The counselor has the arduous task of keeping strict track of who said what, so that he does not unwittingly violate confidences. Considerable insight and growth may be achieved by the better-motivated party without substantial improvement in the sick marriage.

The newer approach is called "role-relationship" counseling or "couple counseling."( A useful book on this method is Charles W. Stewart's The Minister as Marriage Counselor. Rev. ed. (Nashville: Abingdon Press, [1961] 1970). This approach tends to be more efficient time-wise and also more effective in healing a sick marriage by improving the quality of marital interaction. It usually does not have long-range effectiveness with grossly disturbed persons whose weak egos and need to act out their inner problems vitiate the effects of counseling. But I regard it as the method to try first in most marriage counseling. If it does not prove helpful, individual counseling in more depth or referral to a psychotherapist or a family service association is in order.

Role-relationship counseling aims neither at basic personality changes nor at depth insight. Its goal is more modest -- to help the couple make their relationship more mutually need-satisfying. The marriage relationship itself is sick. It is the patient. The focus of counseling is on the interaction which occurs in and shapes their relationship. The "between" of a marriage is seen as far more than the sum of the problems within the two persons. The "couple identity" (see Chap. 9) is a psychological entity which has been created by their interaction. Frequently, significant improvement in the quality of interaction can occur without basic changes in the underlying personality patterns. Marital interaction occurs on many levels and can be improved on many levels. For adults, counseling procedures which aim at improvement on the relationship level are usually the most helpful.

The Greens are having serious trouble with their marriage. They seek their minister's help. Using a role-relationship approach, his goals with them will be: (a) To help them reestablish meaningful communication (that is, on the level of feelings, hopes, and personality hungers) so that they will have the instrument for working at their problems. (b) To interrupt their negative, self-perpetuating interaction pattern of mutual attack and retaliation. Because both have been hurt so severely they probably cannot extricate themselves from this vicious cycle unassisted. The cycle's momentum can carry a couple into the divorce court. (c) To help them become aware of the nature of their interaction and the conflicts in the role expectations which each has had for himself and the other. Most interaction in sick marriage is blind, automatic, and maladaptive. (d) To assist them in discovering ways to modify their attitudes, role-expectations, and marital behavior so as to decrease friction and increase mutual need-satisfaction. This includes helping them decide on some mutual goals (which both desire) and then beginning to work toward them. (e) To help them learn how to relate with their more mature rather than their more childish sides. (f) To help them accept the things about their partner which cannot be changed. This means giving up their futile campaigns to reform each other. When this pressure is removed, many couples actually begin to change in significant ways.

In counseling with the Greens, the minister is a combination referee, who sees that each gets an opportunity to voice his views on each issue, and coach, who helps them learn how to play the marriage game more constructively. After an initial joint interview in which the minister senses the nature of their interaction, he decides to see each person separately for a few sessions. This drains off some of the extreme pressure of hurt and anger, which otherwise would block couple counseling. It establishes rapport with each person and gives each the opportunity to divulge information or feelings which would not come out in a joint session. After three or four separate sessions, counseling proceeds mainly by triangular interviews, the couple meeting together with the minister. He helps them communicate and encourages them to explore specific incidents of conflict in depth. "How did you feel when that happened?" is directed first to one and then to the other. Occasionally the minister summarizes how each perceives or feels about a given incident or aspect of their relationship. The focus is, "What can we learn from this fight (or satisfying experience) ?" Through practice during the counseling sessions the Greens gradually acquire the ability to be aware between sessions of what is occurring in their relationship. Awareness of their patterns of interaction is the first step toward changing these patterns. Couples with a reasonable degree of ego strength can often acquire the ability to help themselves within as few as six to ten sessions.

For the minister with strong training in counseling, a method called family group counseling offers a useful tool for helping families with a disturbed member or with parent-child problems. As Jerome D. Frank says so well: " 'No man is an island' and the degree and permanence of change in any individual will depend in part on corresponding changes in those close to him and on support of his wider milieu." (Jerome D. Frank, Persuasion and Healing (New York: Schocken Books, 1963), p. 234.) The family group counseling approach is useful in cases of troubled adolescents where intrafamilial communication has broken down. After an initial conference with the parents to explain the need for family sessions and gain their cooperation, subsequent sessions include the entire family. The assumptions and goals are similar to couple counseling. Since the family is an interpersonal organism, the most efficient way to help a disturbed member is to increase the health of family interaction. The goals are to help them reestablish meaningful communication, develop awareness of the roles and interaction patterns of various family members, experiment with modifications in roles and behavior, and, most important, to allow the family to experience its essential unity and interdependence. The counselor's presence as referee and coach allows the family to experiment with new patterns of relationships.

To do family group counseling well, a minister needs considerable skill and sensitivity to interpersonal relations. Clinical training and participation as a member of a therapy group are valuable as background training experiences. A minister who wishes to use this approach should study John E. Bell's monograph, "Family Group Therapy" (Public Health Monograph #64, U.S. Government Printing 0ffice, Washington 25, D.C. sec also Virginia Satir, Conjoint Family Therapy (Palo Alto, Calif.: Science and Behavior Books, 1964). and then arrange to have his work supervised by a well-trained psychotherapist, preferably one who has done family group therapy. The minister who masters this approach has an invaluable instrument for rendering relatively short-term help at the source of personality problems.

Supportive and Crisis Counseling

There are at least four varieties of supportive counseling: crisis, stopgap, sustaining, and supportive growth-action counseling. All four make significant contributions to mental health through providing supportive relationships.

1. Crisis counseling. Gerald Caplan ("Principles of Preventive Psychiatry (New York: Basic Books, 1964). shows how a person's mental health is enhanced or depleted by the way he handles crises. No matter how psychologically healthy a person is there are times when his inner resources are severely strained by crises such as accidents, illness, bereavement, natural disasters, unemployment, handicaps, and family traumas such as alcoholism. At such stress-points, many individuals are helped by a supportive counseling relationship.

In a sizable church, a minister's counseling is often primarily crisis counseling. During a given week, he may be called to the home where a child has died, asked to appear in court to help a teen-ager in trouble with the law, consulted by a woman suffering from menopausal emotional problems, called on by a man who has just learned he has cancer, and another whose self-esteem is shaken by mandatory retirement. The crisis ministry to such persons may prevent the development of major personality illnesses. Such a ministry ordinarily combines three things -- walking with the person through his dark valley by maintaining a supportive relationship, giving emotional first-aid by means of informal counseling and guidance, and watching for possible signs that the individual's built-in recovery resources may not be adequate. If a person is not pulling out of the emotional tailspin caused by the crisis, intensive pastoral counseling (if the minister has the time and training) or a psychiatric referral are in order.

Fortunately most people have latent resources which allow them to handle even staggering blows. By standing with a person in crisis the minister helps him to mobilize these inner resources and also to draw on the resources of the religious tradition and community. During stormy crisis periods, a person's sense of worth and meaning are temporarily depleted, his world shattered. The support of his pastor can help keep the floundering ship of his life from sinking. Ordinarily, when the storm's fury diminishes, the ship will right itself.

Bereavement, the universal crisis, strikes an average of two American families per minute. Active bereavement involves at least a million Americans at any one time. Nearly every feeling known to man can be involved in this crisis. Sigmund Freud commented on the death of his father: "He had passed his time when he died, but inside me the occasion of his death has reawakened all my early feelings. Now I feel quite uprooted." (Ernest Jones, Life and Work of Sigmund Freud (New York: Basic Books, 1953), I, 324)

The loss of a loved one is a psychological amputation. A part of one's world of meaning and identity has been cut off. One's response depends on the nature of the relationship. The psychological mechanisms employed are the same which one uses in coping with other frustrations. In normal recovery the psyche has an orderly process which it follows in working through the loss over a period of months or years. Experiences during this process include feelings of unreality and shock, physical distress, preoccupation with the image and memory of the lost one, pouring out of grief, idealization of the deceased, guilt feelings, anger, loss of interest in usual activities, the unlearning of thousands of automatic responses involving the deceased, relearning of other responses, resumption of normal patterns of living, and the establishment of substitute relationships.

The minister's role in normal grief is essentially to support, to encourage catharsis of feeling, and to make religious resources readily available. Proximity to death arouses deep death-fear in the survivors (including the minister). This existential anxiety can be handled constructively only by the experience of religious trust. Through his priestly role the minister brings familiar rituals and theological beliefs to serve as vehicles of trust. He should avoid blocking the natural flow of grief by implying that it is somehow unchristian to experience or express deep sorrow. Mourning -- experiencing the awful pain of loss -- is an essential part of the healing-recovery process.

Abnormal or pathological grief reactions are like infected wounds which cannot heal. As Edgar N. Taskson puts it, if working through the grief does not occur at the time of loss, "it will be done later at a much greater cost to the total personality." (Edgar N. Jackson, Understanding Grief (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1957), p. 143.) Here are some warning signs which may indicate abnormal grief: an absence of mourning, increasing withdrawal from normal life, undiminished grieving, psychosomatic illnesses, severe depression which does not lift, personality changes, severe undiminishing guilt. It is the persistence of such symptoms over a considerable period of time that shows most clearly that normal psychological healing is not occurring. Repressed feelings of guilt, anger, and dependence deprivation are usually involved.

Pastoral counseling and/or psychiatric treatment should be instituted as soon as possible, hopefully before the problem moves into a chronic, difficult-to-treat stage. The goals are to help the person in releasing the "emotional tie to the deceased, despite the attending discomfort of sorrow and subsequently to replace the type of interaction lost." (Henry H. Brewster, "Grief: A Disrupted Human Relationship" Human Organization IX (195O), 19-22.) The method is to focus on memories of the loved one, assisting the person to become aware of and resolve his powerful, conflicted feelings about the loss. The process is painful, but there is no other road to healing. Medical help should be sought when psychosis, severe depression, or psychosomatic problems are obvious or suspected.

2. Stop-gap supportive counseling. A seriously disturbed young man contacted a minister in the town to which he had moved recently. The minister recognized immediately that he needed psychiatric treatment. Limited financial resources made the community mental health clinic the only feasible referral. After an initial screening interview, he was placed on the clinic's waiting list. During two months of waiting, the minister saw him regularly, making no attempt to engage in insight counseling. He merely allowed the man opportunity to pour out his fears and troubles in a supportive, accepting relationship. This relationship probably allowed him to remain functional until psychiatric help was available. In many similar cases, a pastor can render invaluable stopgap aid to a person in desperate need.

3. Sustaining counseling. For some persons who have low ego-strength or are irreversibly crippled emotionally an ongoing relationship with an authority figure allows them to continue to function. The minister's symbolic role makes him a natural supportive counselor. Dependent persons are inevitably attracted to him because he represents a parental strength upon which they need to lean. They can identify with him as he functions in various leadership roles (see Chap. 3) and their dependency needs can be distributed among other leaders in the church organizations. These factors make it possible for a minister to help sustain a network of dependent persons with an economical expenditure of counseling time. An occasional counseling contact in which they tell him "how things are" and he gives them whatever guidance is needed will have greater meaning to them than many sessions with another counselor. Their awareness that he knows them and is concerned about them, has an ongoing ego-sustaining effect. Many people are able to keep going in desperately difficult situations because of this kind of relationship in their lives.

In ascertaining whether dependency relationships are constructive two questions are relevant: Does the minister need to collect such relationships? Does he do things for people (make decisions, for example) that they could do for themselves? If both can be answered in the negative, such relationships are probably not blocking growth and, on the contrary, are serving a vital need.

4. Supportive growth-action counseling. Supportive counseling with certain people does much more than simply sustain them. It provides the interpersonal environment in which they can grow in their ability to handle life constructively, The heart of such counseling is a steady, dependable relationship with the minister. The person acquires strength, not by achieving depth insight, but by the exercise of making decisions, taking responsibilities (often small, at the beginning), and handling the stresses of his life-situation while in a supportive relationship. Self-esteem grows as the person is helped to hold a job, experience modest success in his relationships, and reduce the disorganization of his life. In short, the supportive relationship permits the person to function constructively. From this he gains strength which gradually allows him to function with less support.( For a more comprehensive discussion of supportive growth counseling see H. J. Clinebell, Jr., "Ego Psychology and Pastoral Counseling, " Pastoral Psychology (February, 1963), pp. 26-36.)

Alcoholics Anonymous provides a vivid example of a supportive-growth group. By successfully interrupting the "runaway symptom" of drinking to overcome the effects of previous drinking, A.A. enables the alcoholic's personality resources to become available to him for handling his problems in living. It provides a supportive social environment in which the alcoholic's desocialized, semiparalyzed ego can acquire enough strength, by identifying with an accepting group, to renew its functioning. This functioning in interpersonal relationships eventually restores ego strength. Through A.A.'s supportive-growth approach nearly 300,000 "hopeless" alcoholics have recovered, most of them with no attempt or need to explore the deep personality conflicts which probably caused the addiction.

In supportive-growth-action counseling, the pastor focuses on present reality, current relationships, and the practical problems of handling one's life situation more adequately. He is as interested in what a person does about his problems as how he feels. No attempt is made to ferret out deep underlying causes. Rather than search in the irrational and immature side of a person's life the minister relates to his rational and mature side. The goal is to help the person's adult side (which, as Eric Berne shows,( Transactional Analysis in Psychotherapy [New York: Grove Press, 1961] even the most inadequate person possesses) gain strength by functioning, so that it will rescue control of the person's relationships from his child side. Such counseling aims at discovering and activating whatever areas of potential strength and competence a person possesses. The realization that significant enhancement of a person's general adequacy in living can occur without anything approaching depth insight opens a wide door of new effectiveness for the counseling minister.

"Insight" has been the ultimate goal, the magic word in pastoral counseling for too long. For persons who have the time, money, and emotional resources to acquire self-understanding in depth, it can be a life-transforming experience. But it is unrealistic to expect this in short-term pastoral counseling. Many people lack an appreciable capacity to acquire depth insight. Many of these, and others who have the capacity, do not require insight in order to enhance their relationships and increase their effectiveness in living.

A teen-ager who has withdrawn from his peer group because of emotional problems becomes progressively less able to relate to other adolescents because he misses important learning experiences in relating. His emotional problems are increasingly aggravated by his actual lack of social skills. A vicious failure-withdrawal cycle develops. If this is recognized early enough and the underlying emotional problems are not too severe, the most helpful "treatment" is getting him back into an accepting peer group. Often an emotionally secure teen-ager who "belongs" can be found to serve as a bridge to such a group. If this is successful, no psychotherapy may be needed.

A school dropout often gets caught in a runaway, self-perpetuating failure cycle- the more he fails, the more he expects to fail and the less his chances for success. Helping him interrupt and reverse this vicious cycle by some experience of success is often more useful to him than psychotherapy. Countless other examples of this could be cited. If taken seriously by the minister counselor the supportive growth-action approach provides him with a counseling tool which he is naturally equipped to use and which will allow him to help scores of people who do not respond to a client-centered approach. Some form of supportive counseling is indicated when working with persons having weak or rigid personal structures. This includes most alcoholics, drug addicts, overt and borderline psychotics, those with severe psychosomatic problems, religious fanatics, rabid "positive thinkers," and those with a protracted history of chronic failure in adult roles (marriage and job). A supportive, rather than an uncovering (insight) approach is also the most helpful one with most "senior citizens." Personality structure generally becomes less resilient with the passing years.

Referral Counseling

Since many people trust his judgment and turn to him spontaneously when trouble strikes, a minister is in a strategic position to assist them in finding competent, specialized help. A wise referral is one of the most significant services he can render a suffering parishioner. A family who, in the midst of a traumatic problem, is guided by its minister to effective help, is usually eternally grateful to him. A minister can multiply his service to the troubled manyfold by using all the helping resources of his community to the hilt. It is unfortunate that some ministers feel that referral is an admission of weakness or failure. Action for Mental Health reports: "The helping process seems to stop with the clergyman and physician in the majority of cases, and far more so with the clergyman than with the physician." (Action for Mental Health, p. 104.)

As soon as a clergyman arrives in a new parish, he should begin to assemble a "referral file" of community resources. If his community has a welfare planning council, it may provide a directory (or a phone information service) listing health and welfare services. Professionals who have been in the area for a while are often sources of reliable information. Accurate evaluations of the relative competence of counselors and psychotherapists may be difficult to acquire except by firsthand contacts and by observing the results of referrals. It is helpful for the minister to have personal acquaintance with such persons and with key agency workers before he needs to make a referral. Having lunch with such persons, attending an open A.A. meeting, or visiting the local mental health clinic can strengthen one's referral-making ability.

Here are some basic guidelines for referral counseling: (a) Create this expectation -- When the minister's availability for counseling is presented in the church paper, his function of assisting persons in finding specialized help should always be mentioned. (b) Mention the possibility early in any relationship in which one suspects a referral might be in order. The longer one waits, the more referral will arouse feelings of rejection. If a counselee doesn't improve after four to eight sessions, he probably should be referred. (c) Use rapport with the minister as a bridge over which the person can walk into another relationship. This is facilitated if he knows that the minister knows and trusts the person to whom he is referred. (d) Attempt to remove any emotional blocks which may prevent him from going to the person or agency suggested. This may take several sessions or even several months of counseling. When a referral is recommended, the minister should routinely ask what the person has heard about that person or agency and how he feels about going there for help. It is essential to search out the fears, misinformation, and emotional resistances which otherwise will cause many referrals to be unsuccessful. It is also wise to ask the person to report back, indicating a continuing interest in his obtaining the best available help. (e) If possible, the person should make his own appointment. This keeps the initiative where it belongs and also begins a relationship with the new helping resource. (f) The minister should let the person know that his pastoral concern and care will continue undiminished after the referral. This will lessen the sense of rejection. However, it is essential that a person referred for counseling or psychotherapy not also continue to counsel with the pastor. One counselor at a time!

Short-term Educative and Decision-Making Counseling

In many counseling situations, the minister needs to combine the skills of the educator, the guide, and the counselor. Effectiveness in such short-term "pastoral guidance" depends on the minister's wise use of his special knowledge and authority. Awareness of when to use advice, instruction, and guidance to facilitate rather than block growth is one aspect of the sensitivity of a well-trained counselor. Lacking this sensitivity, a counselor's advice, like that of Job's "comforters," is apt to be a burden rather than a blessing.

The pastor's authority is "strong medicine" and should be used in counseling (as elsewhere) with caution and moderation, under circumstances such as these: (a) When a person's decision-making ability is temporarily crippled. Encouraging a grief-crushed person to choose a coffin within his price range is an example. (b) To block a precipitous, impulsive action with serious, irreversible consequences. A minister is obliged to use persuasion, coercion, and even physical restraint if necessary to save a person bent on suicide. In cases where any dangerous, impulsive actions are planned, the minister's role is to interrupt the person's momentum, to encourage him to explore the probable consequences, and to consider alternatives. (c) With those who are mature enough (in their relations with authority) to accept or reject suggestions after weighing their merits, it is relatively safe to advise. Except in an emergency, a wise counselor will never give advice or attempt to instruct a person until he understands something of that person's inner world.

A seasoned pastor has a wealth of knowledge from his training and experience which counselees lack and some of which they need as grist for the decision-making process. The minister's legitimate fear of "playing God" in the lives of other people should not prevent him from sharing his knowledge when appropriate. He should, of course, be alert to the emotional problems which frequently lurk behind requests for information. When advice and/or instruction are used in counseling they constitute only part of the process. They should always be combined with work on the feeling level. It is usually more constructive to help a person explore alternatives than it is to suggest one course of action. The counselor should respect people's freedom to make their own mistakes and their own decisions even when they seem to him to be in error. (He should shield them, if possible, from mistakes which have disastrous or irreversible consequences.) There are many things that a person cannot be taught. He can only learn them for himself.

One thing a minister needs is faith in the effectiveness of skilled short-term counseling. Experience at family service centers has shown that many people can be helped significantly in one or two sessions at a time of crucial decision or crisis.( From a discussion on April 5, 1963 with Carl Shafer, formerly director of the Pasadena Family Service Association.) An impulsive decision to initiate divorce proceedings made during the heat of a domestic battle, often proves, when the smoke has cleared, to be unfortunate. Because of the chain-reaction of lawyers' maneuvering and mutual recriminations which follows such a decision, the action may be difficult to reverse. This is why a minister is usually justified in using pressure, if necessary, to persuade a couple in a marriage crisis to agree to a moratorium on legal action until they have had several months to explore alternative ways of resolving their conflicts.

Robert Frost's poem, "The Road Not Taken," has a certain relevance to short-term pastoral guidance. In vocational counseling, for example, a fork-in-the-road ministry may be all that is needed. A minister who encourages a bright adolescent to take the college fork rather than its alternative may in one interview have a decisive positive influence on that person's next sixty years. In many cases, of course, vocational dilemmas involve emotional conflicts which call for longer-term counseling.

If a counselor expects to be genuinely helpful in a few sessions, the odds that he will be are improved. The Court of Conciliation in Los Angeles maintains a counseling service for disturbed marriages. Sixty percent of their couples have already filed for divorce. All couples are seen from one to three times. For one third of them, this is enough to effect reconciliation. These are families in which pressures such as loss of job, ill health, in-laws moving in, and so forth, have knocked the marriage off balance. Their problems snowball. Often this runaway process can be interrupted and they can be helped to get their marriage back in balance in a short time. The other two thirds of the couples are disturbed persons who require more extended help. The remarkable thing about the conciliation service is that in spite of the advanced disintegration of many of the marriages, an average of sixty out of a hundred couples decide to try to save their marriages through a "trial reconciliation." Follow-up studies after a year show that three fourths of these are still together.( This report on results and methodology is from a talk on April 5, 1963 by Meyer Elkin, Director of the Court of Reconciliation counseling service.) One reason for the success of this service is its atmosphere of hope. The counselors expect to help people and they do!

The approach of this service has aspects which can be used in short-term pastoral counseling. Here is what these counselors do: (a) Furnish disciplined listening. (b) Provide ego support. The counselor helps a couple to keep their heads above water and see what is happening. (c) Help the couple mobilize their inner resources. They often discover these as they talk with a counselor. (d) Help them to distinguish an impulse from a final decision. "I want a divorce" may mean "I don't want a divorce" or "Help me" or "What do I want?" (e) Interpret only conscious material. The counselor may be aware of unconscious material but he does not deal with it. (f) Use questions and confrontation. A question, skillfully used, is to a counselor what a scalpel is to a surgeon. (g) Focus on the marriage relationship, instead of on the inner problems of the individuals. (h) Use authority constructively. At the conciliation service, seven out of ten couples actually sign a written agreement which aims at helping them reorganize their role-relationships. The ritual of working it out is often helpful.

Superego Counseling

In the period when modern psychotherapy was born, many of those seeking help were crippled by neurotic, puritanical consciences which stifled their creativity and loaded them with neurotic guilt feelings. The goal of counseling with such persons was and is to decrease the severity of their hair-shirt consciences and to help them become more self-accepting. The pastor still sees many people who need precisely this help. But he also sees persons whose inner controls or consciences are underdeveloped and weak. They have not internalized the culture's major values and therefore have not learned to control their impulses. Such "character problems" sometimes stem from homes where weak parents mistook permissiveness for love and were unable to maintain stable limits or dependable discipline. Many others come from barren, loveless homes or from homes with a physically or emotionally absent father.

A girl of seventeen came to her pastor to discuss her sexual activities. Her father was an emotionally nonresident commuter. Although she consciously felt little or no guilt about her activities, she was fearful of "getting caught." If the minister had responded to her reports of promiscuity in a passive or permissive way, she would have interpreted this as more of the weak, detached permissiveness of her father. She needed more acceptance than she was getting at home, but not more permissiveness! On the contrary, what she needed was for the minister to be both an accepting and a firm father-figure from whom she could gain strength in controlling her own behavior and in relation to whom she could establish her own constructive limits. After rapport was well developed, the minister made it clear that from his point of view, certain behavior is harmful to persons and therefore morally wrong. Using accepting confrontation he helped her face rather than avoid the probable consequences of her behavior. Most important, he helped her become aware of and work through her confused, lonely, rebellious feelings which provided fuel for the behavior. In reflecting on this experience, the minister realized that the girl was, by her behavior, pleading for some adult to set limits. In fact, this is probably why she had come to a minister.

Every minister represents the value structure of the community. This is an aspect of his socially defined role which is essential to the mental and moral health of our society. He should never be afraid, in any relationship, to stand for the things he regards as right. If his acceptance of feeling is mistaken by counselees for acceptance of their person-hurting behavior, they will be confused and letdown by him. His role as a value-symbolizer keeps some troubled persons from seeking his help. But for the many who come suffering from either weak or punitive consciences his symbolic role provides a tremendous counseling advantage. In using confrontation and firmness with those who have underdeveloped consciences, it is essential that the minister "speak the truth in love." If he has achieved reasonable awareness and self-acceptance of his own weaknesses and sin, he will be better able to stand for what he regards as right without being self-righteous, moralistic, or rejecting of other sinners.

Edmund Bergler has written that "a feeling of guilt follows every person like his shadow, whether or not he knows it."( The Battle of the Conscience [Westport, Conn.: Associated Booksellers, 1948], p. vii.)

As indicated in Chap. 2, human guilt is of two intertwined varieties -- normal, resulting from hurting persons; and neurotic, resulting from breaking puritanical mores. Normal guilt is healed by confession, making amends, and experiencing forgiveness. As a religious leader, the minister counselor can use the healing symbols of Christianity by which such guilt can be transformed. Neurotic guilt can be alleviated temporarily by compulsive self-punishing atonement devices. It can be removed by the maturing of the person's conscience through depth counseling.

Informal Counseling

The idea of the psychotherapist who sits in his office seeing clients for fifty-minute hours is inapplicable to much of a clergyman's counseling. Many of his best counseling opportunities occur informally, as a part of his general pastoring. One aspect of the uniqueness of the pastoral office is the opportunity to apply counseling sensitivities and insights in the ordinary encounters of parish life. It is well to recall that the counseling of Jesus apparently occurred in such informal settings as by a well with a Samaritan woman. The minister should develop the skill of turning pastoral calls and chance conversations into counseling opportunities, formal or informal. Unless he does this, he will miss many who need help but are afraid to seek it directly.

Some people who cannot overcome their resistance to admitting their need for counseling can pause for a few minutes after a meeting to tell the minister something about a situation. They may or may not move into a formal counseling relationship. Even if they do not, they can receive some supportive help and guidance from occasional informal contacts. Counseling-shy persons sometimes edge into counseling by coming to discuss other matters and then in an offhand way bring up the real problem.

In informal counseling many of the approaches of short-term formal counseling are useful -- sensitive listening, reflecting feelings, seeking to understand empathetically, giving ego support, summarizing the person's perception of the problem, asking questions, examining alternatives, giving information, and, occasionally, advice. If a serious problem is evident, the minister should make every effort to continue the counseling. One Sunday morning a middle-aged parishioner paused after the other worshipers had left to mention that she was planning to seek a divorce. After listening for several minutes, the minister said, "Let's step over to my study where we can talk about this more fully." (If this had not been convenient, he could have said, "I'm going to be over your way this afternoon about two o'clock. If it's convenient, I'll stop by so that we can discuss it more fully.")

Creative pastoral calling gives rise to many opportunities for informal counseling, particularly in cases of shut-ins, the sick, the unemployed, the aged, and the rootless who move frequently in a futile effort to escape themselves. To make the most constructive use of his calling time a minister might maintain a "Special Help List" of the names of those whom he knows or suspects have special needs. In addition to those just mentioned, the bereaved, the alcoholic (hidden or open), the handicapped, and the vocationally or maritally maladjusted have a place on such a list. The minister does well to invest a greater than average amount of pastoral time in these members of his flock. His aim will be to allow a strong bridge of rapport to grow with them so that they can walk over it (psychologically) to seek his help. If they do not do so, and the relationship is strong or the need great he should not hesitate to take the initiative in offering help.

How does one keep pastoral calls from being merely pleasant social visits, dominated by the usual social "chitchat"? The minister can offer opportunities for the communication to move to a deeper level. John Sutherland Bonnell used this question to open doors of pastoral opportunity: "How are things going with you spiritually?" Subtle distress signals such as a catch in the voice, a slip of the tongue, tension in a marriage relationship, or a change in the pattern of church participation can often be picked up if the minister has his psychological antenna out to catch these cries for help. If a parishioner sounds burdened or despondent, simply saying, "You sound as though you're feeling discouraged," often opens the door to counseling.

Group Counseling

Much pastoral counseling now done on an individual basis could be done more efficiently and effectively in small groups. In his volume on group counseling in the church, Joseph W. Knowles writes:

Group counseling is integral to the ministry of the church. The doctrines of church and ministry reveal the depth nature of a counseling group, and a counseling group can become a means of grace whereby the church is enabled to be the church. Furthermore, the ministry of the church is the ministry of the entire people of God. Group counseling can become one means by which the pastor fulfills his essential function "to equip God's people for work in his service" (Ephesians 4:11-12, NEB), and through which laymen perform their priesthood as members of the Body of Christ.( Group Counseling [Englewood Cliffs, N. J.: Prentice-Hall, 1964], pp. 7-8.)

Group counseling offers the richest single field for future development within the general pastoral counseling field. (This underscores the importance of providing training in group dynamics and group counseling for theological students and ministers.) As indicated in Chap. 7, the proliferation of small groups in churches all over this country and in many other parts of the world shows that this exciting development is already well along.

Religious-Existential Problem Counseling

A relatively small percentage of those who seek pastoral help come because of overt "religious problems" -- problems of belief, doubt, prayer, and so forth. When such problems are presented in counseling, they sometimes are surface-level manifestations of deeper emotional problems. A man in his early forties consulted his minister because his prayer life had lost its meaning. In the course of counseling it became clear that he was suffering from an oppressive load of guilt linked to the death by suicide of a relative for whom he had felt some responsibility. When this problem was worked through in counseling, vitality returned to his prayer life. The minister should be aware that psychological problems, including psychoses, sometimes come disguised as "religious problems."

It is equally important to be aware of the spiritual emptiness and lack of a meaningful philosophy of life which are at the root of many neurotic problems. Paul Tillich points out that those who are empty of meaning are "easy victims of neurotic anxiety"( The Courage to Be (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1952), p. 151) and conversely, that a high degree of neurotic anxiety renders one hypersensitive to the threat of nonbeing.(Ibid., p. 67) Thus, there is a reciprocity between neurotic and existential anxiety -- each reinforcing the other.

There is a religious dimension to every human problem in that existential anxiety is inherent in all human existence. When a person lacks a vital religious life he has no way of handling his existential anxiety constructively. As noted in Chap. 2, it is only as a person faces his existential anxiety and makes it a part of his self-affirmation that it becomes a creativity-stimulating rather than a deadening influence in his life. It is possible to confront existential anxiety only to the extent that one has achieved a viable personal religion, including a meaningful philosophy of life, a challenging object of devotion (and self-investment), a sense of mystery and transcendence, and a deep-level experience of basic trust in God, oneself, others, and life. When these have been achieved to a significant degree existential anxiety becomes, in Kierkegaard's words, a "school" -- a source of wisdom and growth.

The basic religious problem consists of finding these four experiences so that one can handle existential anxiety creatively. Until the middle years many people are able to ignore their unsatisfied spiritual hungers. But when a person crosses the halfway point in his life, his value "vacuum" or inner poverty becomes painfully obvious as he moves on the downward slope toward death. Frequently such persons become depressed with a sense of utter futility. Helping the person find a religious orientation and dedication is often the central task in counseling with such persons. Helping him look at his life from a religious perspective can change his basic feelings about his problems. As a specialist in spiritual growth, the minister should be able to render unique help to such individuals.

Specialized Ministries Of Counseling

Every church of more than five hundred members should have one minister on its staff with advanced training in pastoral counseling. (His training should be such as to qualify him for membership in the American Association of Pastoral Counselors.) (Clinical membership requirements include: college and seminary degrees, a masters degree in pastoral counseling, ordination and good standing in a denomination, three years of parish experience, six months of clinical training and 250 hours of supervision of one's counseling, and personal therapy.)

Here is a job analysis for a Minister of "Counseling":

1. Provide a pastoral counseling service for members and constituents.

2. Develop a group counseling program for those with special needs and those who wish to raise their level of creativity in relationships.

3. Work with the leaders of church groups with the goal of increasing their groups' abilities to meet the needs of persons.

4. Develop a long-range program of premarital education and counseling.

5. Provide vocational counseling of youth and young adults.

6. Serve as a resource person for renewal and planning retreats.

7. Work with the Christian Education Committee in developing a parent and family-life education program, teacher and leadership training workshops.

8. Participate occasionally in the preaching ministry, the leadership of public worship, ministering to the hospitalized, and speaking to church groups.( This is an amended version of the goals of the ministry of counseling in which the author engaged at the First Methodist Church of Pasadena. Not all of these goals were achieved.)

The emergence of pastoral counseling as a specialty within the ministry has been paralleled by the development of church counseling centers in many parts of the country. There are now 164 of these sponsored by denominations, councils of churches, individual churches, seminaries, and privately.( Berkley C. Hathorne, A Critical Analysis of Protestant Church Counseling Centers (Washington, D. C,: Board of Christian Social Concerns, The Methodist Church, 1964) The majority of these are staffed by clergy counselors; some have interprofessional staffs. These counseling centers have opened a new, significant dimension in the churches' mental health ministry. In his study of the Churches and Mental Health, Richard V. McCann states that pastoral counseling centers "could be at least a partial answer to the need for substitutes for mental health facilities in small communities." (Churches and Mental Health, pp. 94-95.)

I share the enthusiasm of his conclusion: "The church counseling centers, in attempting to meet the mental and spiritual needs of people, seem to be the best way, organizationally, to make this aspect of the ministry available to people who need it." (Ibid., p. 95)

In the most comprehensive study of these centers now available, Berkley C. Hathorne arrived at these conclusions:

1. The church counseling centers have restored an historic tradition to the Church by meeting neglected needs. 2.... provide help for many who would not otherwise get assistance. 3.... perform a significant community service by functioning in part as a referral agency. 4.... may aid in the prevention of more severe disturbances. 5.... may provide unique opportunities for personal and spiritual growth. 6.... have fostered inter-professional association and cooperation. 7.... demonstrate another dimension of interdenominational cooperation. 8.... provide a clinical setting for advanced training in pastoral counseling. 9.... provide a clinical laboratory for research. 10.... confront American Protestantism with the challenge to extend and expand the ministry of counseling. (Hathorne. pp. 79-83.)

The specialist in pastoral counseling, whether he works on a local church staff or in a counseling center, shares many of the counseling advantages of the parish minister and, in addition, has time and training to do depth counseling or pastoral psychotherapy. This is a salutary development, since it means that persons with theological training will now be cooperating with secular disciplines in seeking depth understanding of the human psyche.

Spiritual Healing and Pastoral Counseling

In a survey of ministers from Protestant churches one third had attempted spiritual healing in some form.( See Charles S. Braden "Study of Spiritual Healing in the Churches." Pastoral Psychology, Vol. V, No. 44 (May, 1954), pp. 9-15.) The current upsurge of this interest represents a revival of an ancient but long-neglected ministry. The term "spiritual healing" seems to suggest that some healing is not spiritual. Since all healing involves the release within a person of God-given growth forces, all healing is spiritual healing. Actually, what the term usually describes is approaches to healing making primary use of traditional religious forms and instrumentalities such as prayer, communion, the laying on of hands (Mark 16:18), and anointing with oil (James 5:13-16) .

Both the spiritual healing and the pastoral counseling approaches are useful in a local church's program. Both have the same goal -- the restoration of persons to greater wholeness. Experience has shown that some persons respond to one approach who do not respond to the other, and vice versa, while others benefit from a combination of counseling and healing services. Each approach tends to serve as a corrective of the other.

The physical danger in the spiritual-healing emphasis is that it will encourage persons to delay or neglect using the resources of medicine. A sound approach, of course, urges the use of all channels of God's healing, including the full range of medical resources. Psychologically, spiritual healing may increase unhealthy dependence on the leader and encourage the expectation of cures from the outside not involving struggle with inner problems. Theologically, this approach may cause people to feel they are manipulating divine forces to their own end, in a magical way. If a person is led to believe that enough faith will cure any condition, then failure to be healed saddles him with a load of guilt for his lack of faith. Enlightened approaches to healing strive to counteract these dangers. The emphasis is on opening the channels of one's life to the everavailable healing power of God and on healing of the personality. Physical healing may or may not be one aspect of this deeper healing of the spirit.

One danger that besets pastoral counseling is that it will lose its awareness of the spiritual element in all healing and will become infatuated, in an idolatrous way, with the human cleverness of psychology. The spiritual healing emphasis, particularly in its priestly aspects, can help a pastoral counselor retain a robust awareness of the vertical dimension in all relationships, including counseling relationships. It can remind the person enamored with counseling that the principles of the spiritual universe are much too complex to fit any machine model comfortably. There is infinitely more that we do not know than we do know about the human spirit and its relation to the Spirit of the universe.

The emphases in counseling on respect for the orderly cause-effect sequences in the world of the psyche and on the necessity of a person's growing in his responsibility for his own inner life can help to counteract any tendency in spiritual healing to function in ways which encourage magic or the temptation to shift the total responsibility to God. Training in counseling can help a minister use his authority constructively in healing rituals. Thus counseling and spiritual healing methods are complementary instruments for enhancing the wholeness of persons.

 

Readings

Alcoholics Anonymous. A. A. Publishing Co., 1955.

Brister, C. W. Pastoral Care in the Church. New York: Harper & Row, 1964.

Clinebell, Howard J, Jr. "Ego Psychology and Pastoral Counseling." Pastoral Psychology (February, 1963).

Clinebell, Howard J, Jr."Counseling with The Family of The Alcoholic," Pastoral Psychology (April, 1962).

Clinebell, Howard J, Jr. "Philosophical-Religious Factors in the Etiology and Treatment of Alcoholism." Quarterly Journal of Studies on Alcohol (September, 1963).

Clinebell, Howard J, Jr.Understanding and Counseling the Alcoholic. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1956.

Hiltner, Seward. Pastoral Counseling. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1952.

Hiltner, Scward, and Colston, Lowell G. The Context of Pastoral Counseling. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1961.

Ikin, Alice G. New Concepts of Healing. New York: Association Press, 1956.

Irion, Paul E. The Funeral and the Mourners. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1954.

Jackson, Edgar N. Understanding Grief. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1957.

Johnson, Paul E. Psychology of Pastoral Care. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1953.

Oates, Wayne E. Protestant Pastoral Counseling. Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1962.

Rogers, Carl R. On Becoming a Person. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1961.

Stewart, Charles W. The Minister as Marriage Counselor. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1961.

Wise, Carroll A. Pastoral Counseling: Its Theory and Practice. New York: Harper & Row, 1951.