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1807-2007<br />
A NDOVER N EWTON<br />
Theological School Bicentennial Year<br />
The <strong>Faith</strong> Practices<br />
Anthology<br />
SARAH B. DRUMMOND, EDITOR<br />
Forgiveness l By W.A. Hurd 2<br />
Healing l By Barbara Smith 5<br />
Honoring the Body l By Nell Fields 7<br />
Hospitality l By Janet Bush 10<br />
Household Economics l By Bob DeFelice 12<br />
Sabbath Keeping l By Dawn Karlson 14<br />
Saying Yes and Saying No l By Bruce Taylor 16<br />
Shaping Community l By Nancy Willbanks 18
This anthology, as well as many other activities<br />
associated with the Field Education course, The Integrative Seminar: <strong>Faith</strong> Practices in<br />
Context, was made possible through a grant from the Valparaiso Project.<br />
Read more about the Valparaiso Project at their Web site, www.practicingourfaith.org,<br />
from which the following statement of purpose was retrieved (7/17/2007):<br />
The mission of the Valparaiso Project is to develop resources that speak to the spiritual<br />
hunger of our contemporaries with the substantive wisdom of the Christian faith,<br />
especially as this wisdom takes shape in Christian practices.<br />
The Project accomplishes its mission by conducting seminars, commissioning books,<br />
developing interactive resources for adults and youth, and supporting innovative strategies<br />
to strengthen participation in Christian practices in a variety of life settings.<br />
The Valparaiso Project launched <strong>Practicing</strong><strong>Our</strong><strong>Faith</strong>.org as a way to extend the invitation<br />
offered in the 1997 book, <strong>Practicing</strong> <strong>Our</strong> <strong>Faith</strong>: A Way of Life, for a Searching People.<br />
Both book and website explore twelve time-honored practices shaped by the Christian<br />
community over the centuries, yet richly relevant to contemporary experience. These<br />
Christian practices are shared activities that address fundamental human needs and that,<br />
when woven together, form a way of life that is faithful and has integrity.<br />
The Valparaiso Project encourages creative thinking and writing on practices foundational<br />
to a Christian way of life. To learn about writing projects and conferences currently in<br />
progress, visit the News section.<br />
The Valparaiso Project Grants Program (2000-2006) provided financial support for activities<br />
designed to help specific communities nurture a way of life shaped by Christian<br />
practices. These grants enabled creative leaders to strengthen teaching, learning, and<br />
reflection on Christian practices within the varied contexts where people engage in<br />
practices. See what others are doing.<br />
The Valparaiso Project is funded by Lilly Endowment Inc., a private family foundation in<br />
Indianapolis. The Project is based at Valparaiso University in Valparaiso, Indiana.<br />
1807-2007<br />
A NDOVER N EWTON<br />
Theological School Bicentennial Year<br />
210 Herrick Road, Newton Centre, MA 02459-2243
1807-2007<br />
A NDOVER N EWTON<br />
Theological School Bicentennial Year<br />
The <strong>Faith</strong> Practices<br />
Anthology<br />
SARAH B. DRUMMOND, EDITOR<br />
The Field Education Program at Andover<br />
Newton Theological School strives to provide<br />
transformational experiential education<br />
for ministry through:<br />
1. Meaningful ministry experiences in<br />
settings that support learning,<br />
2. Theological reflection opportunities<br />
that foster spiritual formation and<br />
vocational discernment, and<br />
3. Academic courses that promote the<br />
integration of ministerial theory and<br />
practice.<br />
Andover Newton students preparing for<br />
ministry serve for at least one academic<br />
year in field education, either in an<br />
Andover Newton Teaching Parish or in a<br />
site borrowed through the Boston Theological<br />
Institute. For fifteen hours each<br />
week they minister, prepare, and reflect<br />
with trained supervisors and lay volunteers.<br />
In addition, students take a course on<br />
campus meant to help them to bridge their<br />
classroom and ministry site experiences.<br />
In 2006-2007, with the help of a grant from<br />
the Valparaiso Institute, Andover Newton<br />
students in field education participated in<br />
a pilot course aimed at helping them to<br />
integrate theory and practice for ministry.<br />
Each student in field education took a<br />
course entitled The Integrative Seminar: <strong>Faith</strong><br />
Practices in Context. The course included a<br />
lecture series based on the book <strong>Practicing</strong><br />
<strong>Our</strong> <strong>Faith</strong>: A Way of Life for a Searching People,<br />
edited by Dorothy Bass (San Francisco:<br />
Jossey Bass, 1997), where members of the<br />
Andover Newton faculty lectured on the<br />
habits and actions that shape the faith life<br />
of individuals and communities. The<br />
course also included a small-group experience,<br />
where students selected a faith<br />
practice upon which to focus over the<br />
course of the academic year in partnership<br />
with peers and a pastor-mentor<br />
adjunct faculty member.<br />
The following anthology serves as an artifact<br />
and reminder of what students<br />
learned in their small groups and in the<br />
ministry field. The following essays were<br />
each written by one student who had<br />
been selected by his or her small group to<br />
reflect in writing on field education, faith<br />
practices, and the formation of pastors and<br />
leaders for God’s church and world.<br />
1
forgiveness<br />
BY W.A. HURD<br />
In Matthew 18, the disciple Peter asks Jesus a question about sin and<br />
forgiveness. Peter assumes that he — that we — must forgive those<br />
who sin against us, that forgiveness is an important aspect of being a<br />
follower of Jesus. He asks Jesus, "Lord, if my brother<br />
sins against me, how often must I forgive him?<br />
As many as seven times?" Indeed, Peter recognizes<br />
that not only is forgiveness implicit, but that repeated<br />
forgiveness is essential. But, surely, Peter seems<br />
to be asking, there’s a limit to forgiving others. We<br />
certainly can’t go on forgiving everything forever,<br />
can we? You can’t be asking that of us, can you?<br />
As with many stories in the<br />
Gospels, Jesus’ answer to Peter is surprising not<br />
because the disciple’s assumption is wrong, but<br />
because he didn’t go far enough. "Not seven<br />
times," Jesus responds, "but seventy times<br />
seven." Jesus uses a hyperbolic number, a number<br />
that one would lose track of before reaching,<br />
because, for Jesus and for his faithful, forgiveness<br />
must be inexhaustible. It is a defining trait<br />
for Jesus, who forgives even in his final<br />
moments.<br />
Yet, there are questions below<br />
the surface that remain unanswered and even<br />
unasked. Is Peter asking about seven different<br />
sins, or how many times must we forgive for the<br />
same sin? Is Jesus suggesting that we are never<br />
done forgiving those who have sinned against<br />
us? Are we only able to forgive those who sin<br />
against us personally, rather than against others<br />
or against God? Though this gospel message<br />
demonstrates that forgiveness is indispensable<br />
in following Jesus, it does not show us everything<br />
we need to know about forgiveness. Most<br />
importantly, this passage does not tell us how<br />
to forgive.<br />
Indeed, the question left unasked<br />
is . . . What does forgiveness look like? Is it reconciliation?<br />
Is it a return to the relationship’s previous<br />
state? Is it always the same? Is forgiveness a<br />
thing or a time, or is forgiveness a process that is<br />
never quite complete, but always progressing?<br />
Jesus does not answer these questions here. It is<br />
left up to us to give meaning to forgiveness, to<br />
practice it in our own lives in a way that makes<br />
sense to us and that allows us to live and love in<br />
this world, using the example of Jesus’ life and<br />
ministry to guide us.<br />
2
I am blessed to serve in a church<br />
where there are few, if any, physical and emotional<br />
scars in need of forgiveness and reconciliation.<br />
Indeed, there is a sense of general comfort with<br />
and acceptance of one another throughout the<br />
congregation. There are, as in most congregations,<br />
disagreements both subtle and immense, yet none<br />
of these rifts seem in desperate need of attention<br />
or repair. Yet, the desire for and need to forgive still<br />
exists, just beneath the surface.<br />
It was my dubious distinction to<br />
lead the worship service on the day of the congregation’s<br />
annual meeting. I learned during<br />
the previous week that the only way the con-<br />
the bulk is done by the kids. When the adults<br />
are approached with an idea or a potential program,<br />
the first suggestion is to have their children<br />
(or, in reality, someone else’s children) do<br />
it. After all, by doing this the kids will build<br />
character and learn valuable lessons about helping<br />
others.<br />
After my sermon, in which I<br />
implored the church to recognize their duty to<br />
the church and their fellow people around the<br />
world, the budget passed without increasing the<br />
missions allocation. No one even asked why it<br />
was sliced. The subject never came up. Though<br />
I knew it from my first week visiting, before I<br />
was even interviewed, I was now certain that<br />
this congregation had no intention of carrying<br />
What does forgiveness look like?<br />
gregation could remain solvent for the next year<br />
— without firing the minister or closing down<br />
during the summer — was to halve the missions<br />
budget. The suggestion was made at a council<br />
meeting, when it was revealed that the missions<br />
committee hadn’t even met in four months and<br />
none of their allocated funds spent in six.<br />
Members of our congregation<br />
lead busy lives: they have families, and work,<br />
and need some time for themselves. They travel<br />
for business during the week, and their children<br />
have activities all weekend. Honestly, it’s a wonder<br />
that they make it to church three times a<br />
month. But they pledge money to the church,<br />
2% of household income is the goal, and they<br />
donate money to other charities unrelated to<br />
church. Occasionally, they’ll spend an evening<br />
working the food pantry. More often, they’ll<br />
send their children to perform those duties.<br />
Indeed, what little community<br />
service and outreach the congregation attempts,<br />
out any kind of wider mission, and were content<br />
to let it die unnoticed and un-mourned.<br />
Still, in my conversations with<br />
various members of the community, it became<br />
obvious that there were people who were distraught<br />
at the notion that the church would<br />
abandon its mission to the world outside the<br />
church doors. They couldn’t understand why the<br />
church council would allow this to happen.<br />
There was anger and indignation from these<br />
folks, who questioned why the consequences of<br />
a lack of funds weren’t brought to the community’s<br />
attention earlier. At the same time, the members<br />
of the council, the minister, and other<br />
involved parties agonized over the decision and<br />
thought that they had alerted the congregation to<br />
the upcoming shortfall. Indeed, this problem of<br />
expectations and miscommunication or lack of<br />
communication is prevalent in the community.<br />
The congregation was splitting<br />
apart, slowly and just beneath the surface. The<br />
members of the community who were angry at<br />
the council for cutting the missions budget felt<br />
3
that they were kept out of the loop and that<br />
they were being forced to lose a vital part of<br />
their Christian practice. The council itself felt<br />
like it was under siege, despite doing the best it<br />
could under the circumstances. There were<br />
many people, myself included, stuck in the<br />
middle, trying to repair this breach.<br />
The easiest solution was never<br />
going to appear. The money to fully fund the missions<br />
budget wasn’t going to magically arrive in<br />
the coffers. There was no way to make the problem<br />
disappear, but there were ways to alleviate<br />
the symptoms. Lines of communication needed<br />
to be reopened. Expectations needed to be voiced<br />
and managed. The failures of both sides needed<br />
to be recognized. Only then could the processes<br />
of forgiveness and reconciliation begin.<br />
forgiveness begin. I saw two people, at odds<br />
only moments before, share a look that spoke<br />
more loudly than all their previous bickering.<br />
Reaching inside themselves, putting away their<br />
differences and recognizing the love that they<br />
had for one another, they began to see themselves<br />
in one another’s place. They apologized<br />
to one another, giving voice not only to their<br />
own pain but also their own blame.<br />
The money never materialized<br />
magically in the church coffers. The missions<br />
budget remains where it was set at that meeting.<br />
But the acrimony subsided after that morning.<br />
The lines of communication between the opposing<br />
factions were reopened. Conversations about<br />
expectations, about what it means to be a church,<br />
about the importance of mission, about what<br />
Forgiveness looks different each<br />
time we are asked to forgive or to be forgiven.<br />
There was a morning Bible study<br />
at which the church’s moderator and one of the<br />
aggrieved parishioners sat next to one another.<br />
They seemed to take opposing sides on every<br />
topic, every passage that we discussed. Their problems<br />
with one another were leaching through to<br />
every facet of their relationship. Suddenly, one of<br />
the older members of the congregation lent her<br />
voice to the subject. First out of respect, then out of<br />
understanding, they listened to her words of wisdom.<br />
She told a story about how the church had<br />
gone through this before and that she didn’t want<br />
to see it happen again. Visibly upset, she said that<br />
it was hard work to make a community out of<br />
people who only had so much in common, but<br />
that our love of one another and of Jesus was<br />
something that we all shared.<br />
We sat in silence for a few<br />
moments. It seemed like days. I thought of our<br />
discussions of the passage from Matthew and<br />
how what forgiveness looked like remained<br />
unspoken. As I looked down the table, I saw<br />
mission might look like sprung up at Bible<br />
Studies, at fellowship hour, in emails. The problem<br />
still existed and still troubled the community,<br />
but by addressing the underlying causes, by<br />
seeking common ground and recognizing the<br />
importance of forgiveness and reconciliation, the<br />
problem was being managed.<br />
Forgiveness looks different each<br />
time we are asked to forgive or to be forgiven.<br />
What is constant is that we must take into our<br />
hearts the frailty, the imperfection of ourselves<br />
and others. Reconciliation is not always possible.<br />
Forgiveness does not always mean leaving<br />
the problem in the past and continuing as if it<br />
never happened. Yet if we are to live in a<br />
Christian community, a beloved community, we<br />
must find within ourselves love for those who<br />
have sinned against us, not just once, not just<br />
seven times, but seventy times seven.<br />
4
healing<br />
BY BARBARA SMITH<br />
“We yearn for the touch that will make us whole, or we yearn to be<br />
able to offer this touch of wholeness to someone we know.” – John Koenig<br />
The faith practices group on<br />
healing in the course, The Integrative Seminar: <strong>Faith</strong><br />
Practices in Context, tended to be experiential in<br />
nature, becoming a group that explored the<br />
parameters of healing and its significance in our<br />
daily lives. Instead of talking about it, we experienced<br />
it by participating in it, observing it, doing<br />
it and celebrating it! One of the things that<br />
became apparent is the realization that the art of<br />
healing could be used to define the practice itself.<br />
Perhaps the best example of how<br />
the group integrated this practice in its field education<br />
is the day when each member within the<br />
group recounted his or her day; and one by one<br />
it was revealed that every member of the group<br />
had experienced loss that very day. Someone<br />
had died in each of our individual placements.<br />
It was not this coincidence that led us to the<br />
practice of healing, but it was a process that<br />
shaped the group from the first meeting.<br />
As such we began to talk about<br />
healing in the context of many different aspects<br />
of our field education experiences. One way<br />
in which our conversation was expanded was<br />
through applying the practice of healing to<br />
the act of having a voice in our placements.<br />
How do we negotiate what we want and<br />
what the church or internship committee<br />
would like to see done? How do we define<br />
our roles? With each of these questions it was<br />
necessary to re-visit past experiences within<br />
the church and personally determine our current<br />
roles.<br />
Healing became part of the journey<br />
for us: the journey from a tentative presence in<br />
the churches where we served as interns, to an<br />
authoritative presence in the church universal.<br />
Another way of describing this healing is growth<br />
or movement away from the old towards the new.<br />
The biblical reference for this process comes from<br />
Colossians 3:9-10, "Do not lie to one another, seeing<br />
that you have stripped off the old self with its<br />
practices and have clothed yourselves with the<br />
new self which is being renewed in knowledge<br />
according to the image of its creator."<br />
Some themes that arose in our<br />
discussions included forgiveness, approaches to<br />
healing, and the question of "cure." Furthermore,<br />
as we recounted our individual experiences,<br />
it became apparent that who we are determined<br />
how we healed. We do not heal in the<br />
same manner. Some heal quickly, some heal<br />
slowly, some do so privately; while others do so<br />
publicly. Other issues that arose included inner<br />
peace, energy and wholeness. This experience<br />
revealed that healing can be as simple as claiming<br />
authority or as complex as forgiving.<br />
<strong>Our</strong> ministerial identity seemed<br />
to grow (at least in part) out of this field education<br />
experience. We began by acknowledging<br />
when healing had to be done and reflecting<br />
5
References<br />
Bass, Dorothy C.<br />
<strong>Practicing</strong> <strong>Our</strong> <strong>Faith</strong>.<br />
San Francisco:<br />
Jossey-Bass,1997.<br />
Epperly, Bruce G. Healing<br />
Worship: Purpose &<br />
Practice. Cleveland: The<br />
Pilgrim Press, 2006.<br />
Person, Gretchen. Psalms<br />
for Healing. Minneapolis:<br />
Ausburg Fortress, 2001.<br />
upon this experience, and discerning when particular<br />
individuals or a congregation needed to<br />
be healed and how to take that to our parishioners.<br />
We learned how to be comfortable with<br />
the mystery of healing.<br />
I am now able to define healing in a<br />
more pragmatic way. As I worked with the people<br />
at my assigned congregation I define healing<br />
in a different way. Healing is a reconciliation<br />
with that which is lost. It is bringing about<br />
wholeness and that is what we are called to do<br />
as ministers, to bring about wholeness to individuals<br />
in their own lives and in the life of the<br />
church. The value of humor, the importance of<br />
allowing others to help you heal, and the necessity<br />
of being connected were among the ways in<br />
which the healing group was effective in integrating<br />
this particular faith practice into our<br />
field education.<br />
When we speak of healing most<br />
people have images of a doctor, a hospital, and<br />
physical pain or injury. Few people realize that<br />
there are other types of healing, such as emotional<br />
and spiritual healing. The bible gives evidence<br />
that there are different types of healing<br />
in the stories about Jesus for example, who<br />
went about healing all types of illnesses.<br />
Healing was a major part of his ministry (see<br />
Matthew 4:24; Luke 6:17). It was also an important<br />
part of the early church. In some instances<br />
the different types of healing required will<br />
overlap. If a member of the congregation is<br />
being beaten by her husband who is also a<br />
member of that same church, she may require<br />
all three types of healing (physical, emotional<br />
and spiritual).<br />
One of the first things that we did<br />
in our healing group was to acknowledge that<br />
healing was necessary. Such acknowledgement<br />
is a crucial step in the process. Another thing we<br />
did was to involve others in the healing process.<br />
We are meant to be connected to one another,<br />
and nowhere is this more evident than in the<br />
healing process. When we are in pain or suffering,<br />
we cannot heal ourselves. This is why the<br />
phrase "physician, heal thy self" is so poignant.<br />
Even the physician needs someone else<br />
involved in order to heal.<br />
When our group reasoned<br />
analytically about this practice it became clear<br />
that there are several elements to it. One such<br />
element is trust. The ability to trust also entered<br />
our conversation: how can you be healed by<br />
God if you do not trust in God? How could we<br />
as a group consider healing as a faith practice if<br />
we could not trust one another? If one does not<br />
have faith, how can one be healed? Conversely,<br />
if one does not have faith, how can one heal<br />
others? Christian healing has been a part of the<br />
church since the first century; it is not new.<br />
Perhaps through this faith practice we are rediscovering<br />
the importance of healing as it relates<br />
to the church as a whole. In some instances, it<br />
forces us to respect faith traditions other than<br />
our own. It pushes our limits.<br />
Another element of this practice<br />
is movement or progress. How do we move<br />
through the healing process? What makes us<br />
stagnate? Is God’s timing and humanity’s timing<br />
the same? When we are not cured of a certain<br />
ailment does this mean our prayer was<br />
not heard? What are the theological implications<br />
of movement or progressing through the<br />
healing process?<br />
Sharing is an element that we<br />
sometimes take for granted. When we share in<br />
the process of healing it can help give meaning<br />
to the purpose of healing. Sharing our stories,<br />
our hopes and experiences can help us in this<br />
process. It is one of the elements that we tend to<br />
overlook. The following are specific methods<br />
and practices of healing that can be brought to<br />
the congregation:<br />
1. Touch<br />
2. Prayer Shawl Ministry<br />
3. Music<br />
4. Voice<br />
5. Anointing<br />
In sum, our group came to agreement that healing<br />
is most effective when we realize that the<br />
primary cause for healing is that which comes<br />
from God.<br />
6
honoring<br />
the body<br />
BY NELL FIELDS<br />
Honoring the body, as a faith practice, can be deceptively simple. After<br />
all, we know what it means to honor the body: to take care of it, to eat<br />
right, to get enough rest, to bathe it, to clothe it, to touch it, and to<br />
allow it to be touched in tender, caring ways.<br />
Yet, to mindfully live out this practice in a culture<br />
that tells us to be more, do more, eat more is<br />
difficult – even for six seminary students who<br />
committed to this practice for a year. At first, the<br />
demands of school, church, field education, family<br />
and work appeared diametrically opposed to<br />
the practice. How could we faithfully live out<br />
honoring the body? we asked.<br />
Like other faith practices, this one<br />
starts with intention, with an awareness that<br />
our bodies are sacred. They are a gift from God.<br />
Being mindfully aware of the different ways in<br />
which we can honor our body –<br />
and the bodies of others – can awaken us.<br />
And in doing so, this practice brings us into<br />
closer relationship to God and to others.<br />
For one student, this awareness<br />
led to an awakening of her senses. She began to<br />
see the world and her parishioners in fresh, new<br />
ways. To her, the practice of honoring the body<br />
allowed her to see that worshipping God was far<br />
more than readings, prayers and songs. It also<br />
involved the body. Her realization came from<br />
experiencing candles burning – not just watching<br />
them burn, but focusing upon the burning<br />
with her full attention.<br />
Another student had a similar<br />
experience. Her weekly drive to her field education<br />
transformed from drudgery to a seasonal<br />
slide show, each week offering a new view of<br />
the landscape. "As I focused on the practice of<br />
honoring the body, I became more aware of<br />
myself, of others and the world around me," she<br />
says. "I realized I could engage in this practice by<br />
noticing, by participating in the little things."<br />
She says one week she had one of those "aha"<br />
moments when washing her hands. She writes<br />
of that experience:<br />
7
After my visit with a parishioner,<br />
I returned to the parsonage. Rev. Bonnie is on<br />
the phone, responding to the crisis of this seemingly<br />
sleepy town. Finally, she comes up for air,<br />
transitioning smoothly. “How was your visit?”<br />
She smiles. She knows. "Really good," I answer.<br />
“I have lunch for you. Seafood salad.” It is 3 p.m.<br />
already. Rev. Bonnie hasn’t eaten either.<br />
Before I sit down, Rev. Bonnie<br />
says, "Wait, you’ll want to wash your hands." I nod.<br />
Oh yeah, right. "No, just before eating, but after<br />
every pastoral visit, it is important to wash your<br />
hands. You’ll see a lot of people, hold their hands.<br />
Pray with them."<br />
I wash in silence under the warm<br />
water. Freshly scrubbed, an autumn landscape: I<br />
her body, it was honoring her commitment to a<br />
God "who lives in all places and all times."<br />
The collar virtually guaranteed<br />
that I would not fade into the background. It<br />
meant I would be conspicuous; it hinted that I<br />
had things to say that would be meaningful and<br />
relevant. It also ensured a level of trust and perhaps<br />
suspicion that I would not have garnered so<br />
quickly. I grew used to it: toward the end of the<br />
month looking at my image in the mirror no<br />
longer produced a jolt of surprise. I started to forget<br />
the look of my bare neck and just as I did I<br />
realized the collar had gone inward. Something<br />
in me had shifted, in a variety of small and<br />
momentous ways. The aspects of the role I struggled<br />
with—the constant worries that I would not<br />
be up to the tasks of ministry and of faithfully<br />
Something in me had shifted,<br />
in a variety of small and momentous ways.<br />
am grateful. I retreat now into the warmth. I am<br />
grateful, too, for this ritual, washing; for this<br />
practice, honoring the body. And for the sacred,<br />
relationship. Relationship with the other, with<br />
the community and with God.<br />
For another student, the practice<br />
of honoring the body began with the simple act<br />
of dressing or adornment. In this case, the practice<br />
came to life in wearing – for the first time –<br />
a clerical collar. The collar not only set her apart<br />
from others – especially people her own age,<br />
but it set her apart for – for a life of ministry. "I<br />
spent 15 minutes trying to figure out how to put<br />
on my clergy collar," she says. "It looked simple<br />
enough: one band, two fasteners. But it was the<br />
order of events that threw me off balance." This<br />
piece of clothing was more than just honoring<br />
representing the Church—were not gone entirely.<br />
Those worries were abated, and I began to see the<br />
collar and my clergy shirt as part of my skin.<br />
For seminary students and others<br />
juggling myriad tasks and obligations, the practice<br />
of honoring the body means taking time for<br />
rest and sleep. "As a seminarian, you really want<br />
to go above and beyond to prove yourself," a<br />
student observes, "but honoring the body<br />
means just that: taking care of yourself." One<br />
student engaged in this practice learned first<br />
hand the importance of setting limits. One<br />
evening, when providing pastoral care to a<br />
parishioner, he realized he had been with this<br />
person for nearly four hours. He explains:<br />
I told the parishioner that I wanted<br />
to be sure we had ample, uninterrupted time to<br />
speak and that I was available at 7:45 that evening.<br />
I suggested we meet at a local coffee shop and he<br />
asked if it would be okay to meet at his home or<br />
8
mine. We agreed to meet at my home. In hindsight,<br />
I think that was an error in judgment since<br />
it allowed me no gentle way to terminate our<br />
meeting. He stayed until 11 p.m., and I was<br />
exhausted. At last, I was able to steer our conversation<br />
around to taking the form of a prayer. And<br />
then I said a prayer for myself: "Lord, please hold<br />
these concerns for me until tomorrow. I’m tired.<br />
I’ll work on this, with your help, tomorrow."<br />
Sometimes, the practice of honoring<br />
the body can be a communal act. A fellow<br />
student, a dancer, choreographed a liturgical<br />
dance involving various members of the congregation<br />
for a Maundy Thursday service. The<br />
result? Not just one person honoring the body<br />
through movement, through dance, but six<br />
dancers acting together as one body honoring<br />
the communal body.<br />
“ Live with your hands open so that which needs<br />
to fall out can and that which needs<br />
to fall in, also can do so.”<br />
The sanctuary was barely lit,<br />
mostly by candles waiting to go out; but in the<br />
mean time, slow turning ceiling fans made the<br />
flames dance and bring life to the space. Add to<br />
that six bodies clothed in black – shadows really,<br />
from 80 years old to 12 years old – inspired to<br />
move throughout the sanctuary by a solo voice<br />
singing "Deep Love of Jesus." Add to that the<br />
movement of the congregation rising and<br />
falling between hymns and prayers, the ebb and<br />
flow toward and away from the communion<br />
table; and the ministry team appearing and disappearing<br />
from the pulpit. There we lived the<br />
painful hours, the last words, the last touches,<br />
the last bread broken. There we sat together in<br />
the dark, then darker, sanctuary no longer moving;<br />
just the in and out of the solo breath of the<br />
one soul who pulled the rope of the church bell<br />
so many times that we all began to breathe the<br />
struggle with him. All over the world now the<br />
Body of Christ in tears. Connected in our brokenness.<br />
<strong>Our</strong> silence.<br />
No matter what form the<br />
practice of honoring the body takes, it requires<br />
openness and trust. We have to remain open to<br />
the experiences that God has in store for us.<br />
And at the time, we must trust that those experiences<br />
will bring us into a closer relationship<br />
with God. "My field education supervisor<br />
shared some great wisdom with me," a student<br />
engaged in honoring the body practice offers.<br />
"It is this: Live with your hands open so that<br />
which needs to fall out can and that which<br />
needs to fall in, also can do so." That is a stance<br />
of openness and trust. It is a stance of restful<br />
alertness. It is both salutation and surrender. It is<br />
moving into one’s place as member of the Body.<br />
9
Hospitality<br />
BY JANET BUSH<br />
VNACare Hospice, headquartered in Needham, MA, serves patients<br />
and families throughout greater Boston. An interdisciplinary team of<br />
nurse case managers, social workers, physicians, chaplains, and<br />
10<br />
volunteers provides care to dying patients who<br />
may be in their homes, in nursing homes, or in<br />
one of two home-like residences run by the hospice<br />
itself. I served as a chaplain intern. I visited<br />
patients at the hospice residences and in their<br />
homes, participated in weekly staff meetings<br />
where cases were reviewed, assisted with inhouse<br />
memorial services, and met weekly with<br />
Chaplain Webb Brown, a wonderful mentor, for<br />
supervision. I also participated in one of the regular<br />
bereavement support groups, and served as<br />
the group’s facilitator when Webb was away.<br />
I wanted to focus on hospitality as<br />
a faith practice because it seemed to fit the mission<br />
and activities of hospice work. In preparing<br />
a homily for the annual memorial service honoring<br />
all the patients who had died over the previous<br />
year, my focus on hospitality reminded<br />
me of a Buddhist story about a woman whose<br />
child has died. I told my own version:<br />
The grieving mother comes to the<br />
Buddha and implores him to bring her child back<br />
to life. He tells her, "Go among the houses of the<br />
village, and bring me back a mustard seed from a<br />
house where no one has been touched by death."<br />
She sets out. At the first house, she meets a middleaged<br />
woman who sees the anguish on the younger<br />
woman’s face. The younger woman explains her<br />
mission. "You may take all the mustard seeds I<br />
have," says the older woman. "But I have lost two<br />
children, and both of my parents, in this house.<br />
Please, come in and rest. Have some tea."<br />
The young woman moves on.<br />
At the next house, an old man greets her. He too,<br />
feels compassion for her and invites her in to<br />
share some food and to rest. His wife has died<br />
only two months before. He lost a son in the last<br />
war. From home to home she goes. She is welcomed<br />
with kindness, she shares her story and<br />
hears the stories of her hosts, and she is offered<br />
food and drink. But she finds no house untouched<br />
by death.<br />
She goes home to bury her child,<br />
and then returns to the Buddha to become his<br />
disciple.<br />
This story is usually said to be<br />
about the realization that mortality and suffering<br />
touch us all. In my version, it becomes a story<br />
about hospitality, about the care and compassion<br />
and welcome people provide to each other in<br />
times of need. As I worked with patients, I paid<br />
attention to welcome and care. I learned that<br />
ministry with dying people and their families<br />
involves layers of reciprocal caring and being<br />
cared for, and a blending of the roles of guest<br />
and host.<br />
I met Terry shortly after she was<br />
admitted to the hospice residence. The social<br />
worker suggested I bring her some fruit. Terry<br />
was pleased and touched by the welcome. As I<br />
left her that afternoon, I told her that we would
all do our best to take good care of her. "And I<br />
will do my best to take good care of you," she<br />
replied with a smile. Later I learned that she was<br />
Native American, and that reciprocity was an<br />
important part of her tradition.<br />
Felix was quite particular about<br />
his space and his routines. He had a painful condition,<br />
and his mood varied. He was a thoughtful<br />
man, with a deep faith that sustained him. One<br />
day, he told me he had decided that his purpose,<br />
now, was to cooperate with his care. "The people<br />
who work here really want me to feel as well as I<br />
can. They don’t have to do this work, I know.<br />
They do it, although I suppose they wouldn’t<br />
admit it, out of faith, as a kind of ministry. What I<br />
can do is to cooperate, and not resist their efforts."<br />
I thought about his insight. When we are guests,<br />
we submit, graciously and gratefully as we are<br />
able, to our hosts’ care. Being a hospice guest is<br />
practice, perhaps, for the final letting go.<br />
I was sitting with Frances on her<br />
porch. She was in her 80s, still living independently<br />
despite her weak condition. I had gotten to<br />
know her quite well over a number of visits. <strong>Our</strong><br />
past conversations had ranged over many subjects,<br />
including her feelings about her illness and<br />
impending death. On this afternoon the conversation<br />
seemed to veer back and forth from profound<br />
to trivial. Frances wanted to know about<br />
my vacation, how my children were, about my<br />
ministerial studies. I would answer, but then try<br />
to lead the conversation back to her. As a chaplain<br />
I see my role as bearing witness, and, as I’ve<br />
heard it said, "hearing the other person into<br />
speech." At one point I noticed feeling a little irritated,<br />
even bored. I thought, "Frances is just playing<br />
hostess," and "Why did she get herself all<br />
dressed up for me?" And then suddenly she<br />
began to share some very difficult memories. We<br />
talked some more, and she said, "I don’t like to<br />
talk about gloomy things all the time. That’s why<br />
I keep changing the subject, you know." As I<br />
shared this experience and reflected on it, I realized<br />
that of course Frances needed to "play hostess,"<br />
and that part of my gift to her that day was<br />
giving her an occasion for dressing up, and<br />
speaking of ordinary things.<br />
I have often thought of myself as<br />
a caregiver or a pastor who is there to give, to<br />
provide comfort and support. This is the role of<br />
a host, of the person who welcomes the guest,<br />
the other, without judgment. But I learned, from<br />
Frances, Terry, Felix, and so many others, about<br />
give and take, the mutual giving and receiving,<br />
and the blurring and blending of roles.<br />
Hospice and hospitality share the<br />
same root, of course. Hospitality is part of many<br />
religious traditions. In ancient Christianity,<br />
around the Mediterranean, hospitality involved<br />
feeding and protecting travelers. Travel was dangerous<br />
in that time and place. Hospitality often<br />
included a bath, supplies for the traveler’s onward<br />
journey, and an escort along the road<br />
toward to the traveler’s next destination (for reference<br />
and more information on this topic see<br />
Entertaining Angels : Early Christian Hospitality in its<br />
Mediterranean Setting, by Andrew Arterbury,<br />
www.sheffieldphoenix.com/showbook.asp?<br />
bkid=28).<br />
This description of hospitality<br />
to the traveling stranger is a beautiful image of<br />
what family members, friends, hospice staff and<br />
volunteers do together. Together, all work to provide<br />
an escort for part of the way, to provide comfort<br />
and blessings for the one who is dying, traveling<br />
towards a new destination. In offering and<br />
accepting hospitality, patient and caregivers share<br />
stories, fears, vulnerabilities, strengths, love and<br />
care for each other. And in so doing, all are<br />
reminded that "even though I walk<br />
through the valley of the<br />
shadow of death," I am<br />
not alone.<br />
11
empty. The monthly rental fee was determined<br />
and the trustees of the church undertook the<br />
task of locating tenants. Part of the rental agreehousehold<br />
economics<br />
BY BOB DEFELICE<br />
The lens through which I examined my experience in field education<br />
was that of Household Economics. As a former accountant, this topic<br />
seemed to naturally jump up and say, "Here I am, pick me!" … so I did.<br />
Thankfully, one of the texts used for field education<br />
was <strong>Practicing</strong> <strong>Our</strong> <strong>Faith</strong>: A Way of Life for a<br />
Searching People, Dorothy Bass, Editor. In this<br />
book, Sharon Daloz Parks presents the section<br />
on Household Economics and she offers the following<br />
words that I used as a guide in my<br />
understanding of this topic:<br />
Like the word ecumenical and ecology, economics<br />
is rooted in the Greek word oikos, meaning household,<br />
and signifies the management of the household –<br />
arranging what is necessary for well-being. Good economic<br />
practice positive ways of exchanging goods and<br />
services – is about the well-being, the livelihood, of the<br />
whole household. (page 44)<br />
The management of the household,<br />
of the whole household, was something<br />
that I have been involved in at my field education<br />
setting for over four years. I have been the<br />
local pastor of my field education church since<br />
January 2003 and I have developed relationships<br />
with many members of the congregation<br />
during this time. I believe it was because of my<br />
established relationship with the church members,<br />
and ultimately the members of the<br />
Teaching Parish/Site Committee (TP/SC), that<br />
allowed us to quickly establish goals and objectives<br />
as I sought to meet my field education<br />
requirement in the setting where I already<br />
worked. As the pastor, I had a very good understanding<br />
of the specific area where I felt the field<br />
education experience would be able to benefit<br />
me as a student. But I also found it difficult at<br />
times to be able to separate the role of pastor<br />
from that of student. However, with the help of<br />
a very supportive TP/SC, it all came together in<br />
the end.<br />
One of the household economic<br />
field education experiences I worked through<br />
was the result of me being the first pastor<br />
appointed to this church who did not live in the<br />
church parsonage. As someone entering the ministry<br />
as a second-career, it should not be surprising<br />
to know that I have my own house. So<br />
instead of uprooting my wife and two highschool-age<br />
children, we decided that it would be<br />
best for us to remain in our house and make the<br />
40 mile round trip commute to the church.<br />
The church members decided to<br />
rent-out the parsonage, rather than have it sit<br />
12
ment stated that the utilities would be paid by<br />
the church and the tenants would be responsible<br />
for reimbursing the church for this cost. It was<br />
also decided that the rental income would not<br />
be used to support the general operating budget<br />
of the church. The proceeds would be used to<br />
pay a housing allowance to me and to pay property<br />
taxes on this no longer tax-exempt portion<br />
of property.<br />
The first tenants, a family of four,<br />
moved in and rented the parsonage for two<br />
years. They remained until they purchased a<br />
home of their own, and, after several weeks,<br />
a new family of four moved in. A few months<br />
after the new family’s arrival, the church was<br />
informed that the husband was seriously ill and<br />
the doctors were having a difficult time diagnosing<br />
his situation. In the early days of his illness,<br />
members of the church took turns providing<br />
meals to the family. After a period of time the<br />
Unfortunately, the situation<br />
escalated to the point where the trustees began<br />
eviction proceedings and the tenants stopped<br />
making payments to the church for rent and<br />
utilities. The tenants were ordered by the court<br />
to vacate the parsonage by December 31, which<br />
they did, and at the time of their departure,<br />
the amount owed for rent and utilities was<br />
over $4,000.<br />
In situations like this one it is easy<br />
to say that the right thing to do would have been<br />
to let them stay, to help them through this difficult<br />
time. But how do we determine when we<br />
have gone as far as we can go to help someone?<br />
What measuring stick do we use to let us know<br />
that we have done all that we can to help and<br />
that we have reached a point where enough is<br />
enough? Is there a dollar amount that must be<br />
reached before the decision is made because<br />
someone owes us too much?<br />
In situations like this one it is easy to say that<br />
the right thing to do would have been to ...<br />
family expressed their thankfulness for the<br />
meals and informed the person coordinating<br />
this effort that the meals were no longer needed.<br />
Several months passed with no<br />
further word about the husband’s condition.<br />
Then one day the trustees were informed that the<br />
tenants were behind in reimbursing the church<br />
for the cost of utilities by over $2,000. This is not a<br />
trivial amount of money for a small rural church<br />
and concerns were being expressed. Following<br />
prayerful discussion about the best way to handle<br />
the situation, the trustees talked with the tenants<br />
to determine if, perhaps, they were trying to live<br />
beyond their means. Assured by the tenants that<br />
they could afford to remain in the parsonage, the<br />
tenants continued to occupy the parsonage without<br />
a lease on a month-to-month basis.<br />
This situation was upsetting to<br />
everyone involved. The tenants were forced to<br />
vacate their home because they could not afford to<br />
be where they wanted to be. But were they living<br />
within their means? Were they being truthful with<br />
themselves and with the church about their financial<br />
situation? Were they seeking all of the assistance<br />
available to them through different social<br />
agencies? Could the church have done more to<br />
help them through this situation? Could I have<br />
done more as a pastor or a student? Was this the<br />
right thing to do or does it go against our call to<br />
help the widow and the orphan? Christ came to<br />
proclaim the good news to the poor, but where’s<br />
the good news in all of this? Was this a typical<br />
field educational experience? No. But when it<br />
comes to the management of the household, of<br />
the whole household, we will get involved with<br />
things that won’t always make us smile.<br />
13
a time that leads toward an often uncomfortable<br />
call for justice? Does it always need to be one<br />
or the other? If both are important, how do<br />
we achieve balance so that Sabbath worship<br />
does not become bogged down in criticisms<br />
but still retains depth? How do we ensure<br />
that Sabbath worship provides restoration<br />
and peace, without becoming merely superfisabbath<br />
keeping<br />
BY DAWN KARLSON<br />
Question: Is the Sabbath a day of rest or a day of justice?<br />
It was Christmas Eve. It was also a Sunday, a<br />
day of Sabbath. Morning worship was done and<br />
my supervisor and I were spending a little time<br />
going over what needed to happen at the<br />
Christmas Eve service that night. He asked me<br />
to read and comment on his Christmas<br />
Meditation. The meditation was not one of joyful<br />
celebration as I expected; instead it was a<br />
powerful prophetic call for justice.<br />
At first, I felt this special Sabbath<br />
of Christmas should be a time of joy and mystery<br />
and hope, not one laden with the weight of<br />
the injustices of our world today. Then again, it<br />
was a potent message, one that needed to be<br />
I came home that afternoon and<br />
announced to my husband that I didn’t think I<br />
had a "prophetic" voice because I couldn’t imagine<br />
delivering that kind of a message on<br />
Christmas Eve. And yet, on Christmas night I<br />
found myself writing a poem that wondered<br />
where Jesus would be born if born today. Would<br />
Jesus be born in war-torn Israel, Iraq or Sudan?<br />
I have been thinking since then<br />
about how a minister’s words, attitudes, presence,<br />
prayers and sermons can "shape" the<br />
experience of Sabbath for our congregations.<br />
Is Sabbath a restorative, peaceful time or is it<br />
A minister’s words, attitudes, presence,<br />
prayers and sermons can "shape" the<br />
experience of Sabbath for our congregations.<br />
spoken. It was likely to be heard by more than<br />
the "usual" crowd on Christmas Eve. I suggested<br />
that certain parts of the meditation be "softened"<br />
but noted that this was a message that came<br />
from deep within my supervisor’s heart. The<br />
meditation was uncomfortable for me, yet I<br />
knew its truth.<br />
14
cial? It seems to me that balance and style of<br />
presentation are critically important, particularly<br />
in the context of a society that has tended<br />
to deemphasize Sabbath time altogether.<br />
Most of us are familiar with the<br />
idea that Sabbath is a time for rest, but how, I<br />
These readings confirmed for me<br />
that Sabbath is about both rest and justice.<br />
Perhaps if we take the time to offer our Sabbath<br />
time to God, to spend this special time with<br />
God in whatever way is most authentic to us,<br />
our work of justice will naturally follow. If we<br />
"taste and see" (as one of our small group members<br />
liked to say) the fruits of Sabbath time with<br />
If we “taste and see” . . . the fruits of Sabbath time with<br />
God, we will want every one to experience it.<br />
wondered, is Sabbath about justice? I decided to<br />
check scripture to see if I could make the connection.<br />
There were two points I found in the<br />
Sabbath commandment (in both Exodus and<br />
Deuteronomy) that struck me. First, Sabbath<br />
time is a Sabbath to the Lord your God. Second,<br />
Sabbath is for every single person, a rest day not<br />
just for some, but for all. Sabbath implies freedom<br />
for even those "enslaved" or oppressed in<br />
our world today. Consider the Sabbath commandment<br />
from Exodus 20:8 and<br />
Deuteronomy 5:12:<br />
Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. Six<br />
days you shall labor and do all your work, but the<br />
seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God.<br />
On it you shall not do any work, neither you,<br />
nor your son or daughter, nor your manservant<br />
or maidservant, nor your animals, nor<br />
the alien within your gates. For in six days the<br />
Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and<br />
all that is in them, but he rested on the seventh<br />
day. Therefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day<br />
and made it holy.<br />
. . . but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord<br />
your God. . . on it you shall not do any work,<br />
nor your manservant or maidservant . . . so that<br />
your manservant and maidservant may rest,<br />
as you do. Remember that you were slaves in<br />
Egypt and that the Lord your God brought you<br />
out of there with a mighty hand and an<br />
outstretched arm . . .<br />
God, we will want every one to experience it.<br />
On the other hand, our job as pastors is to help<br />
our fellow sojourners on their path and there<br />
are times we may need to remind our community<br />
that Sabbath is not just about renewal, but<br />
about justice for all.<br />
As I reflected back on my<br />
Christmas Eve experience as a field education<br />
student, I realized I had begun to understand<br />
one of the challenges of pastoring: knowing<br />
when to nurture and knowing when to challenge<br />
our faith communities. I had also begun<br />
to see my own Sabbath time as a time with God,<br />
with my center of being, before being sent back<br />
out into the world.<br />
When we practice Sabbath, we<br />
open ourselves to whatever God might provide…<br />
there may be times when we receive joy,<br />
peace, or rest. There may be other times when<br />
we receive strength, perseverance or a call<br />
toward some specific work. When we take the<br />
time to rest in God, our Sabbath doesn’t need<br />
to fit into any precise category. Sabbath doesn’t<br />
need to be either about rest or justice, it can be<br />
about both. Indeed, if we open our Sabbath to<br />
God, we may be surprised by the myriad possibilities<br />
it presents.<br />
15
saying yes &<br />
saying no<br />
BY BRUCE TAY LO R<br />
This past year, our field education seminar was organized around the faith<br />
practices described by Dorothy Bass in <strong>Practicing</strong> <strong>Our</strong> <strong>Faith</strong>. My group<br />
focused on "Saying Yes and Saying No", the practice of intentionality<br />
in making choices. Every day we make choices<br />
that have implications for the spiritual journey.<br />
We take risks and open up to the unexpected or<br />
we opt for safety. We accept responsibility or<br />
acquiesce to the decisions of others. We chase<br />
after fixed goals or choose to participate in life as<br />
a dynamic process. The practice of "Saying Yes<br />
and Saying No" cultivates a conscious awareness<br />
of these choices.<br />
I came to my field education church with very<br />
little practical experience in ministry, anxious to<br />
apply my book learning in a real-life setting. I<br />
made a good start. It is worth reflecting on this<br />
adventure in terms of the yes/no faith practice.<br />
1. The Chickpea and the Cook<br />
I was anxious to do everything at once. My<br />
supervisor quoted me the poem by Rumi which<br />
describes an impatient chickpea trying to jump<br />
out of the pot. The cook tells the chickpea to get<br />
back into the stew, so that it will have sufficient<br />
time to develop its flavor.<br />
I came to my field education site expecting to<br />
practice specific skills. My first learning experience<br />
was in the articulation of learning goals.<br />
There was so much to learn, and I could not<br />
realistically expect to do everything in one year.<br />
I had to say yes to a few important goals and<br />
give lower priority others. Without this discipline,<br />
it would have been difficult to do anything<br />
well, and very easy to burn out. Even if I<br />
were able to "do" everything, I might have<br />
missed the point. Field education concerns more<br />
than skills. The point is to integrate the experiences<br />
that occur in the field education setting<br />
and to develop the person inside, the person<br />
who will eventually become a minister.<br />
I said yes to the process of ministerial formation,<br />
which takes time. I accepted the need to stay in the<br />
pot until I am fully cooked, so that one day I may<br />
nourish a congregation, and not cause idigestion.<br />
`2. Ministerial Presence Means<br />
Being Present<br />
One learning goal was to find my voice and presence<br />
as a worship leader. Presence may be<br />
[mis]understood as a ministerial persona. I pursued<br />
the goal of presence in my worship leading,<br />
carefully rehearsing the liturgical elements for<br />
which I was responsible. Actually I overrehearsed,<br />
to avoid making any mistakes, which I<br />
associated with failure. As a result, my performance<br />
did not seem natural. I said the right words,<br />
but was not truly there for the congregation.<br />
I came to realize that ministerial presence is<br />
being present. It requires taking off the mask<br />
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ather than putting one on. I observed good role<br />
models in my supervising minister and the religious<br />
education director, who embodied the values<br />
of our faith tradition. My supervisor challenged<br />
me to speak from an outline rather than<br />
a manuscript. I tried this and was pleased with<br />
the result, although it may be some time before I<br />
can give a complete sermon that way. I experienced<br />
the advantage of speaking directly to the<br />
congregation rather than reading to them.<br />
In seeking to develop authentic presence, I have<br />
learned to say no to psychological armor, and<br />
yes to vulnerability, which allows me to make<br />
true contact with people in the congregation.<br />
3. Pastoral Identity: Yes,<br />
I Am a Minister<br />
As I learn the work of a minister I must come to<br />
own it, and make it part of my identity. Early in<br />
the year I became aware that I was missing<br />
opportunities for pastoral conversation. I was so<br />
focused on carrying out my planned duties that<br />
I did not recognize signals from people who<br />
might have been seeking emotional support or<br />
a listening ear. It was as if I were wearing blinders.<br />
When I recognized this issue I was able to<br />
widen the angle of my vision, so to speak. I<br />
began to internalize the ministerial role, so that I<br />
responded as a minister in unplanned moments<br />
as well as planned activities.<br />
A major turning point was the Saturday afternoon<br />
when I received a phone call from one of<br />
the lay leaders, who was coordinating the worship<br />
service that Sunday. She told me the guest<br />
preacher was sick, and asked if I had a sermon<br />
handy. I surprised myself; my immediate<br />
response was Yes! – I have a sermon handy and<br />
I’m ready and willing to lead worship tomorrow.<br />
(Actually I had half a sermon, and I scrambled to<br />
finish it).<br />
In his autobiography, Howard Thurman tells the<br />
story of a pivotal moment when he was a student,<br />
covering the duties for his minister who<br />
was out of town. A parishioner called and said a<br />
man was dying. "They’re asking for a minister.<br />
Are you a minister?" Yes, I am a minister.<br />
4. Leadership: Theological<br />
Reflection with Consequences<br />
In my previous career I was a software developer.<br />
My leadership was of a technical kind; I did<br />
not lead people. But ministry is by definition a<br />
leadership role. The buck stops here. In my field<br />
education experience I encountered situations<br />
where I had to speak up rather than defer to<br />
others. For example, I was scheduled to lead<br />
worship on the Sunday morning of December<br />
24. A big Christmas Eve service was also<br />
planned, and that later service was the focus of<br />
frenzied preparations.<br />
The lay leaders suggested that we cancel the<br />
morning worship because it required additional<br />
resources that were in short supply. Initially I<br />
agreed. But then I reflected on the importance of<br />
hospitality in our faith tradition, and the ethos of<br />
welcoming in the stranger: not only for the<br />
stranger’s benefit, but to open ourselves up to the<br />
world outside, and the possibility of transformation.<br />
I recalled the days when I had felt alone and<br />
the church was there for me. When I told the lay<br />
leaders my thoughts, they immediately changed<br />
their minds. It was as if I pressed lightly on a<br />
door, and the door swung open. We planned a<br />
scaled down worship service and found volunteer<br />
musicians. It went exceedingly well.<br />
In this and other situations I have learned to say<br />
yes to leadership, recognizing when it falls to me<br />
to make a decision affecting others. I have seen<br />
that my theological reflections have consequences,<br />
and this is an empowering insight.<br />
5. Grabbing Hold and Letting Go<br />
"Saying Yes and Saying No" does not represent a<br />
series of static choices, but an ongoing, dynamic<br />
process. There is a time to every purpose: a time<br />
to try, and a time to let happen; a time for beginnings<br />
and a time to say goodbye.<br />
When I began my field education I tried hard to<br />
develop skills, which I understood as tasks. In<br />
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seeking to develop pastoral skills I made it a goal<br />
to shake as many hands and start as many conversations<br />
as possible. As the year progressed, I<br />
relaxed and did not try so hard. Paradoxically,<br />
the conversations I had were fewer but more satisfying.<br />
Both phases were necessary: to try hard,<br />
and to relinquish trying. I did not necessarily get<br />
"better" in dealing with people (although probably<br />
so), but I gained perspective.<br />
Similarly, with the field education experience as<br />
a whole: when I first arrived I was like a deer in<br />
headlights. Everything was so unfamiliar. I very<br />
much wanted to please people and do well.<br />
Eventually I let go and just did it. The turning<br />
point was the Sunday when I took the place of<br />
the guest preacher who was sick. I showed<br />
myself and the congregation that I could do it.<br />
Too soon it was time to say goodbye. I have<br />
come to know the congregation just a little bit,<br />
and yet I have formed a deep connection with<br />
them. I have received a brief glimpse of the network<br />
of caring relationships that constitutes this<br />
beloved community. I have had a taste of what it<br />
is like to be a minister, and it is everything I had<br />
hoped it would be.<br />
shaping<br />
community<br />
BY NANCY WILLBANKS<br />
Being a commuting student at a seminary is not unlike how many people<br />
experience being a member of a congregation. You show up every week<br />
for a few hours and hope to get something out of it: deeper understanding,<br />
better relationships, insights on how to live your<br />
life and do your work, laughter, connection,<br />
energy for the coming week, and/or respite from<br />
the previous days or hours.<br />
Sometimes, on good weeks, you do have a<br />
moment to connect, or you may get an opportunity<br />
to talk about what you heard from the person<br />
at the front of the room. Rarely, unless you<br />
make a significant commitment outside of that<br />
once weekly block of time, do you have the time<br />
and opportunity to get to know someone well or<br />
deeply, or to put what you heard or learned into<br />
practice so that it becomes your own. The experience<br />
that I had in my field education seminar<br />
small group went beyond that rare opportunity:<br />
within months, we became a community.<br />
The chapter by Larry Rasmussen on ”Shaping<br />
Communities" in <strong>Practicing</strong> <strong>Our</strong> <strong>Faith</strong> explains that<br />
communities are shaped by rituals and governance.<br />
Over the course of a school year the creation<br />
of our community demonstrated how rituals<br />
and governance can translate into actions that<br />
matter to everyone in community, and how<br />
those actions in fact form the community. We<br />
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created our community starting with a group of nine<br />
people from seven faith traditions: African Methodist<br />
Episcopal, American Baptist, Church of Christ-<br />
Scientist, Episcopal, Quaker, Unitarian Universalist,<br />
and United Church of Christ. We had in common<br />
only that we were in field education and that we all<br />
commuted to school: some were doing field education<br />
in churches; others were in school or health care<br />
names in building community. For our lives in ministry<br />
this activity emphasized that knowing names is<br />
fundamental for relationships with people, and often<br />
overlooked. Although initially intimidating, this ritual<br />
became comfortable and important.<br />
If anyone came in late, the facilitator paused to welcome<br />
that person and let him/her know what we<br />
As a group, we did not offer advice or try to fix the issue;<br />
we were there as companions to the<br />
person on the journey.<br />
agency settings; some are headed for ordination, others<br />
are not; some are married, some are not; some<br />
have children, some do not; some live close by, others<br />
farther away, throughout New England; we are<br />
Hispanic, black, and white, gay and straight. Here’s<br />
how we shaped our community.<br />
Welcoming<br />
We started our sessions on time, an important and<br />
respectful governing rule. If we knew someone was<br />
not going to be with us, we acknowledged that. We<br />
started with a one-word prayer that described how<br />
we were feeling right then, and together these words<br />
were a snapshot of all that we were bringing into the<br />
room that day: traffic, stress, anticipation, hunger, joy,<br />
gratitude, rushing. This brief ritual ended with the<br />
facilitator saying Amen. The one-word prayer<br />
acknowledged that we were coming from different<br />
places, and helped us make the transition to being<br />
present with one another.<br />
<strong>Our</strong> next ritual was called the name game. The first<br />
person says, "I'm (say own name)." The second person,<br />
says, "I'm (say own name) and this is (name of<br />
first person)." The third person says, "I'm (say own<br />
name), and this is (name of second person) and<br />
(name of first person)." Continue around the circle<br />
until the end when the first person then does all the<br />
names. We continued the name game throughout the<br />
year. This ritual helped us not to assume that everyone<br />
knows or remembers names; it reminded us of<br />
who was present or missing; it affirmed the power of<br />
were doing. We did not wait for people to arrive or go<br />
back and repeat what they had missed, but they were<br />
able to enter into the activity that we were doing.<br />
Appreciation and Noticing<br />
Each time we met, after the one word prayer and the<br />
name game, our facilitator would call for a time<br />
where anyone can express appreciation. Appreciations<br />
were not limited in scope and could be for anyone<br />
in the group or people and things outside the<br />
group. Appreciation was often expressed for the<br />
whole group. Appreciations could be made for<br />
actions, words, qualities, or events.<br />
After we finished expressing appreciation, and in fact<br />
after many activities, the facilitator asked, "What did<br />
you notice?" and often made a list so that we all could<br />
see these responses. This question made us mindful<br />
and made us pay attention. Were we inwardly- or<br />
outwardly-focused? Were we singular or plural in our<br />
focus and expression? How did things change over<br />
time? Particular to the ritual of appreciations, what<br />
impact does expressing gratitude and appreciation<br />
have on both those who express it and those who<br />
receive that expression?<br />
What we learned is that every time we met this time<br />
of appreciation deepened and grew. This time<br />
became incredibly meaningful. Noticing also showed<br />
us how our reactions changed over time and how it<br />
affected our relationships outside the group. Within<br />
the group this ritual engendered trust and started the<br />
gathering of our community with a positive sense of<br />
19
espect for each other, and helped us look at<br />
someone who was noted in the appreciation<br />
with new fondness even if we didn’t experience<br />
the reason for the appreciation ourselves. Again,<br />
we looked forward to this part of our ritual and<br />
often came ready to express appreciations.<br />
Checking In and Focused<br />
Listening<br />
Each time we gathered we had time when one<br />
person talked and either a partner or the whole<br />
group listened. This uninterrupted time when<br />
an individual could report while others listened<br />
attentively was an incredible blessing. We used<br />
a variety of techniques to start conversations<br />
and break into conversation partners, discussion<br />
questions, opinion statements, and open<br />
space topics, and, most frequently, a regular<br />
timed check-in with four minutes of update and<br />
30 seconds of silent prayer for each person. If<br />
you have never been able to talk on a regular<br />
basis about something important to you, without<br />
interruption, while a group of people listens<br />
carefully, you may be astonished at how important<br />
that time and those people become.<br />
An abbreviated version of an intensive and<br />
deeply-focused listening process from the<br />
Quaker tradition, the clearness committee, also<br />
helped us shape our community. Each of us had<br />
the opportunity to be the focus person, who<br />
brought an issue before the group; the group<br />
asked questions to help the focus person go<br />
deeper spiritually to which the focus person<br />
does not respond aloud. As a group, we did not<br />
offer advice or try to fix the issue; we were there<br />
as companions to the person on the journey.<br />
Those questions, which were recorded by a<br />
scribe, were often so powerful and applicable to<br />
each of us that we made copies for all of us to<br />
take away for reflection. God is economical, our<br />
facilitator would say.<br />
The Integrative Seminar: <strong>Faith</strong> Practices in Context<br />
worked with other faith practices, I think it is<br />
important to note how interrelated those practices<br />
are and how they also shaped our community.<br />
Hospitality was a practice of our community,<br />
in an unplanned but consistent fashion with<br />
various people bringing chocolate, nuts and<br />
pretzels to help us make it through the late<br />
afternoon time that we met. Testimony would<br />
be another way to describe both our appreciations<br />
and our check-in time, as we shared stories<br />
of our journey. Discernment was certainly<br />
the central reason behind clearness committees,<br />
but was often a result of our smaller check in<br />
and listening times as well, as insights would<br />
pop out of the dialog. For many of us at different<br />
times, healing came through the listening<br />
and prayers of this community. Saying yes and<br />
saying no in difficult situations became easier<br />
with the support and affirmation of this community.<br />
Prayer, however short, was the beginning<br />
and end of each time that we met. And<br />
each thirty seconds or more of quiet time to<br />
"hold a person in our hearts and in God’s presence"<br />
had its own reinforcement of keeping<br />
Sabbath. All of these faith practices also helped<br />
us shape our community.<br />
While we sat in a circle each week, the shape of<br />
this community became a circle, woven with<br />
strong bonds of trust, respect, and deep faith.<br />
We will carry each of the faith practices and the<br />
rules and rituals that worked in the building of<br />
this community out into congregations, classrooms,<br />
and workplaces. I will express for all of<br />
us the appreciation of what each person in the<br />
group brought and continues to bring both in<br />
presence and in memory: the hugs, the laughter,<br />
the tears, the wisdom and the prayers. We<br />
each made this a commitment and a time not to<br />
be missed, a time and a group that I already<br />
miss, but will carry with me as a centering and<br />
central place in my seminary experience.<br />
Integrating Other <strong>Faith</strong><br />
Practices<br />
Because other small groups in the course<br />
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