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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 />

16


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 />

17


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 />

18


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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