I was telling a friend today that I feel like I am a voice crying in the wilderness sometimes. I sense I am working behind enemy lines in very hostile territory. My style of pastoring is very different. I know that. And our church community is very different. We know that. The result of my and our uniqueness* brings harassment verbally, socially, spiritually, etc. Here are just some of the reasons:
- You can believe however you want if you want. You do anyway.
- You need not have to fear the constant surveillance of behavior.
- You do not have to submit to, support, or subject yourself to a vision.
- You are free to question. Even the pastor. Take that both ways.
- You aren’t pressured at all into giving your money.
- You need not be ashamed of your failures or weaknesses, perceived or otherwise.
- You aren’t expected to fit into a certain lifestyle.
- You can embrace and/or choose your own orientation.
- You can bring your unedited authentic self into the community.
- You do not have to fear authority, manipulation or control.
*We don’t look unique. But the spirit of the community is definitely unique. You’d have to be here to feel what I mean. You are welcome anytime!
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All institutions belong to the category of principalities and powers. They are not inherently evil. The principalities and powers are, like all things, created. We are to have dominion over them, not them over us. They are to serve us. Not us them. This includes the institution we call the church.
A few weeks ago I attended what we might call a house church of young adults (here and here). I was asked to come and share with them some of my thoughts. We met in a living room. There was food and wine. It was fun. And we had communion, had a theological discussion, and there was prayer. What was missing was this sense of expectation that an institution imposes on people. There was no overriding agenda that had to be met. And these young people were free of the constant surveillance that the church often exercises over its members. Their spiritual condition was their own personal responsibility, and they gathered occasionally to encourage one another. They didn’t come hoping that this would fill a void in their own lives. We just gathered as friends. And even though there was a recognition of commitment and even love, I came free and left free. I realize that it is easier to achieve this without a building, staff, budgets and charters, etc. But it was refreshing.
This isn’t easy to accomplish. It means constantly challenging the principalities and powers, the institution, to humble itself, relinquish its vision and agenda that is often dehumanizing, and serve us.
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Every day I converse with people who have left the organized church. They are very spiritual people interested in living authentic lives of integrity, justice, love and vocation. But they are turned off of the institution we call church. I understand.
I had squirrels in my house once. Do you know how impossible it is to catch a squirrel? If they smell anything human on the bait, you won’t catch them. Same with my children and so many, many of my friends: if there is any sense of a trap, they won’t even come close. They can smell control and manipulation from a mile away. Even if the control is minor and sincere, they won’t take it. Not even a nibble.
Let’s look at the difference between a family and an institution. The problem with an institution is that it requires the sublimation of individual freedom to some degree. I think a healthy family is otherwise: it promotes individual freedom, nurtures it, encourages it and allows its expression. (Now, when it comes to hurting other people or themselves, then it needs to be addressed. Of course.)
Many of my friends and my own children want to be free. They don’t wish to sublimate their own freedom for the sake of an institution’s security or success. How is the church today different than Molech in the Old Testament that required the sacrifice of our own children for its existence? Can we be a collective, a community, a church, without requiring people to sacrifice themselves for it? Can individually free people gather together without allowing the principalities and powers to subtly take precedence and erode their own freedom for the sake of its own life?
My readers, these are serious questions for serious times.
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The cartoon today was inspired by some thoughts I’ve been having about the “other”. I’ve been thinking about this mainly because of the discussions we’ve been having here about fundamentalism. In spite of some skepticism concerning my sincerity in saying that we all have elements of fundamentalism at some time or another over some issue or another, I still would assert this point. I think we can agree that we are all narcissistic to a greater or lesser degree. The same goes for the fundamentalist mindset.
But how can we believe something to be true and still hear the other who’s opinion differs? When we look at the other, do we only see how the other is similar to us and is therefore attractive, or how the other differs and is therefore undesirable? Can we even perceive the other beyond these categories of similarity and difference? For only then are they truly other. Can we even recognize the truly other without our categories? Or, as if like a monster in our nightmare, are we afraid of something we do not recognize and reject the other altogether? Are we able to behold the wonder, the terrible beauty, the sacred in the wholly other? Can we love and respect this? Only then might we learn to commune with this other.
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Jesus was in the garden facing torture and death. He asked God to let the cup pass from him. But he finally conceded that it was not what he willed, but what God wills. What his vocation cost him seemed more than he could bear. I identify with that. The extent of my struggle fades in comparison. But I understand what it means to do something difficult reluctantly, to do what I must rather than what I prefer. Especially when things don’t make sense.
I struggle with my call to pastor. I find it very difficult, not because I don’t love the people or the church, but because it hurts. There have been a couple of times in my life when a prophecy has come to pass for me. Once in a blue moon there has been confidence that things made sense. But almost all the time I walk in darkness. Only my next step is illuminated, and that only sometimes, and pale. I can’t find meaning.
I was talking with a friend today who had moved here with his family to be a part of our community. Just after they arrived and made friends, we went through a crisis at the church and much of what they came for disintegrated before their eyes. This has happened so many times and applies to so many people I love. When people move here to be a part of our church, I want them to be happy. I want things to go according to their hopes. I need to provide them meaning, especially when things get rough. But I can’t. I can only love them. I can care. I can be tender. I can be there. That’s all.
The main theme in Job is meaning. He was offensively transparent in his insistence that there was no meaning in his suffering. His friends claimed to have meaning. Who did God exonerate in the end? The one who was blind to meaning. And the ones who claimed to have meaning repented. I can’t find meaning for myself, for my friends or for my community. But, like Job, I have to trust that God has the meaning. The meaning is God’s. Occasionally, like once or twice in a lifetime, we get glimpses of meaning. But in the end we must simply trust that the story we are in is written with a compassionate hand. And all we can do in the midst of this is love one another. That is the best meaning I can give. For now.
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Lisa and I spend the last weekend with a great bunch of younger people. Well, generally they are younger. There were some older ones there too. And I would put myself in the older group. It was an entirely refreshing time for me. Also disturbing.
It was refreshing for me because they are a curious collection of people. Nobody necessarily agreed with anything I had to say. That wasn’t the point. The point was for me to come and share what I had discovered with them. In turn, they shared their discoveries with me. No conclusions or comparisons had to be drawn. Even though their spirit is deep and rich, it seemed free of negative religious spirit. When I shared with them an explanation of the z-theory (type z-theory in the subject box of nakedpastor to learn more), it was refreshing for me to see interest in their eyes instead of the usual glazing over or anger or indifference. The discussions were lively, courageous and edifying. When we were nearing the end I had the impression that what had happened that weekend was like two subversive underground collectives meeting covertly. It was an affirmative time for me.
It was disturbing because I realized that these guys and I share the same DNA. I saw that my critique of the church is justified. There are vast numbers of people like them, like me, who desire community that respects and embraces a spiritual component but entirely free of manipulation, control, exploitation, expectations and confined thought and belief. I returned more commitment to authentic community free of all these things. I realized on my drive home that this means commitment to receiving more maltreatment, but I’ll deal with that.
The photo is of the group on Saturday morning working together on one canvas. The themes we worked on were journey, sacred, truth and reverence.
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Almost every day I hear about people who have left our community, how they are doing, how happy they are, and how they, with the sincerest of intentions, invite others to go with them. I am happy that they are happy. I really am. I’m trying to have a large heart about this. It is not easy.
I have decided to be free, releasing and open toward all people and their relationships to me and to our community. I believe that Love is that way. And I want to love all living beings without partiality. The gospels portray Jesus as a liberating person. He allowed others to determine how they would relate to him. If they wanted to be close and intimate, he received that with an open heart. Like the woman who kissed his feet and washed them with her perfume and tears. But he also allowed people to follow him from a distance, or to follow him just to get their next meal. It doesn’t mean he didn’t speak his mind about it. He expressed his disappointment when his friends fell asleep when he was in anguish in the garden. He wept over Jerusalem when they would not receive him. And while he was completely liberating by letting others determine how close they would be to him, he informed them of what the costs or benefits were to the positions they chose in relation to him. Like, if you want to sit at my right hand, can you drink this cup? Or if you want to follow me, it will mean taking up your cross. Or, if you choose to be distracted by your possessions, you might miss the banquet. Or, if you drink from me, rivers of living water will flow out of you. So, while he was releasing toward others, he was not naïve as to what their choices would mean for them.
I will be liberating. I will be entirely releasing toward others. Others can set the boundaries and distances between themselves and me and our community. They are free to come in and go out and find pasture. If they want to call our church their church and never come, that’s fine. If they want to go to different churches, that’s fine. If they want to come every week and not involve themselves in any other way, that’s fine. If they want to give, that’s fine. If not, that’s fine too. If they want to come to everything and get totally involved, that’s fine. If they want to see me personally one on one every week on top of all their involvement, that’s fine. I will be open, liberating and releasing. I will love fully, no matter how they respond or relate to that. My heart will not grow calloused, bitter, resentful, ambitious or jealous. I will love all without partiality and without self-interest.
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Recently I had coffee with another pastor. He shared how he had lost a few people because they were in a crisis of faith. I have experienced the same loss recently. People who were dedicated and devoted people of faith disappeared from our community because they had lost their faith. I said to my pastor friend, “It’s mostly our fault you know!” He agreed.
Abraham Heschel once said that the first commandment… to not have any other gods before me… is the first one because idolatry is the root of all the others. Calvin said our minds are factories working around the clock in the production of idols, and labyrinths of idolatrous thinking. The church is constantly setting up idols for people to believe in. Then when these idols, these small gods, don’t deliver, and the people for good reason lose their faith in them, we blame the people for it. Some of the people I talk to who have lost their faith are still caught in the same trap. Once they were on the shiny side of the idol, believing in hope that it was true. Now they are simply on the smudgy side of the idol rejecting it as false. Been there. I have been a devout idolator as well as a backslidden one.
Now, when someone says they’re losing their faith or have lost it, I say, “Fine! Been there. Am there. Will be again. Let’s walk this together.” Mother Teresa, frequently enjoying communion with Jesus before she went to Calcutta, receiving her call and going there full of faith to fulfill her vocation, suddenly lost touch with Jesus and never heard from him again. We throw around “Dark Night of the Soul” when we’ve had a bad week. Try never sensing the Lord’s presence ever again!
I validate those who never sense God’s presence. I see honor in rejecting gods. It takes nerve to topple idols and walk away from falsehood. It is fearless to detach oneself from people who cherish counterfeit and peddle snake oil. And I think it sometimes takes courage to be an atheist. I embrace atheists, for in many ways I am one myself.
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We had another Open Round Table meeting for our church community again last night. Although we have a kind of body of executive elders to make crucial financial decisions, etc., about the church, we want the oversight of the church to be open and collegial. We don’t have a membership role at Rothesay Vineyard. So anyone who is at all interested in the welfare of the church and wishes to have a voice in its health is welcome to come. Generally speaking there are approximately 20 or so people who come. I would like to see more come. But it is totally volunteer based. No pressure on anyone to attend or skip. Anyone can play.
And this isn’t just talk. We are serious about it. I opened the meeting by reading Psalm 133 where it talks about unity and harmony. How good and pleasant it is when brothers and sisters dwell together in unity! After some beautifully picturesque descriptions of what this unity looks like, it closes by saying that where this unity is kept, “there the Lord ordains his blessing”. I feel it is our task to maintain harmony. God, in turn, will bless that. Unity and harmony is blessed. We have these meetings so that we can maintain harmony among ourselves. This is an exercise in unity. They can hear my heart, and I can hear theirs. Together we can hear the heart of God for the church and the heart of the church for God.
As usual I went into the meeting nervous because I don’t carry an agenda with me. I try to empty my mind of all motive and desire so that we can have a true and open dialog. Together we will care for this community and through our conversation discover how to do this well. As usual there are awkward moments of silence at the beginning. But once a conversation starts, that hour and a half is a wonderfully chaotic exchange of energy and ideas. We don’t reach any conclusions necessarily. We just get a feel for each other and the community. These are a few of the things that emerged in our conversation:
- We are different and unique and hard to describe. But we like it and wouldn’t trade it for anything else. What we don’t need is a mission statement or a vision. What we might need is a language to describe ourselves. What we might need is what the Bible calls giving a reason for the hope that is within us. We believe that as we shine our own light with truth and integrity, that this will be the way we love those around us.
- We are sitting on a huge asset of over 15 acres of prime commercial or industrial land. We also own a very functional building. However, we have developed in such a way that it doesn’t really match our personality as a community right now. We are not sure what to do about it yet, but there was a lot of energy and discussion about what the possibilities are. I admired the sense of adventure the people shared, as well as their courageous willingness to take risks to become more integrated in all that we are and do.
For the past couple of weeks I have been hearing lots of criticism and negative rumors about me and our church. I allowed them to get me down. I would enter very dark moments when I questioned my own call, the church, and even my own sanity. But when those who care about the community gathered together last night, all those phantom rumors evaporated in our mutual love for God, each other and the church. I left encouraged and fortified to fulfill my call as a pastor, as I am sure everyone else there did.
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David Hayward is a pastor artistically stripping to the essential.
