Ministries What's a minister to do? Serve and
carry
By DAWN GIBEAU
What's a minister to do when confronted with familiar roadblocks
to effectiveness?
- The recipient of ministry may be suffering in ways the minister
has never confronted -- overwhelmed by the death of a child, perhaps, or
suffering the ravages of a terminal disease such as Huntington's.
- A stroke may impair a patient's speech to the extent that words
are garbled or wholly different from what the person intends to say. The
minister may not understand or know how to respond.
- A minister may become defensive when called to serve a
judgmental person whose views on political or church-related issues are poles
apart from the minister's, and the minister feels compelled to defend his or
her beliefs.
- The ministerial environment may be clogged with distractions:
noisy cats or dogs in a home, a chattering TV in a hospital room.
What's a minister to do?
Last October, social work specialists Mari Ann Graham and Curt
Paulsen explored such dilemmas with BeFriender and Stephen ministers. Both
groups specialize in ministering to individuals in grief and crisis
situations.
Graham, who recently completed a workshop for BeFriender
coordinators, teaches in graduate and undergraduate social work programs at the
University of St. Thomas, St. Paul, Minn. Paulsen teaches family practice in
the social work master's degree program at Augsburg College, Minneapolis, and
teaches spirituality of the family in the religion department. BeFriender
Ministry sponsored the gathering.
Graham and Paulsen did not come up with packaged recipes to solve
specific situations. Rather, they and the participants explored ways to deal
with difficulties. Said Graham, "There's a mystery in helping people," and "our
pain often serves."
Graham explains the difference between helping another, which can
be counterproductive, and serving: "Helping is when you go in thinking you have
lots to give and you're somehow going to help this other person." Then "you set
up a situation of inequality, where you're up here and the other person is down
there. You don't have to intend to do it," but the other person "can pick up on
that instantly."
In contrast, "when we serve, we're serving from our weaknesses,
our pain, our vulnerability. We draw from all our own experiences, and then our
limitations serve, our wounds serve -- even our darkness can serve." Further,
"our ignorance, our unknowing can serve people."
All these weaknesses "can keep us open and allow us to be present"
to others, Graham said. "The more we allow ourselves to suffer," without being
masochistic, "the greater our capacity to be with others."
Paulsen said ministers need not seek out suffering, for "we are
assured that we will hurt psychologically at various recurrent times of our
lives to the point of great pain, all of us without exception."
But, asked Graham, "do we really know how to suffer?" She noted
that when people have a child born healthy and a house to go home to and a car
to drive, they don't cry, "Why me? Why do I have a healthy baby and a house and
a car?" Yet they cry "Why me?" if their baby has a birth defect or something
goes wrong with the house or car.
"We live in a culture that teaches us not to suffer," she said. As
Douglas John Hall has written in God and Human Suffering (Augsburg Fortress,
1986), that has three consequences: People have trouble accepting their own
suffering; they lose their capacity to enter imaginatively into the suffering
of others; and they need to blame or find scapegoats.
Graham talked about the need for imagination. "We've experienced
some things, but we've not experienced what this person [being ministered to]
is going through right now. We can only enter into it through imagination. I
don't think we cultivate imagination nearly enough in our culture." In order
not to recoil in disgust from another's suffering, we must learn to suffer as
Helen Luke recommends in her book, Old Age (Parabola Books, 1987).
In Graham's words, Luke says the "why me?" reaction to suffering
means one is lying under the weight and feels its heaviness, whereas
constructive suffering involves carrying the weight. "When we do that, the
burden is lifted somewhere else. It's as though some positive energy is
released somewhere else because we are carrying" the weight. The Bible
expresses the same idea: "My yoke is easy, my burden is light."
Luke writes that depression and self-pity are unproductive. So is
replacing these with pleasant, happy feelings, which are "simply a palliative,
laying the foundations for the next depression. Nothing whatever has happened
to the soul."
When suffering is accepted, she says, "the pain remains, but it is
more like the piercing of a sword than a weight." Along with acceptance, it is
natural and right to hope for release from suffering, to seek appropriate help,
support from friends in grief and rest from exhaustion.
"Nothing is too small to offer us an opportunity to choose between
suffering and depression," Luke writes, and contends that "every time a person
exchanges neurotic depression for real suffering, he or she is sharing to some
small degree in the carrying of the suffering of mankind, in bearing a tiny
part of the darkness of the world."
"We may be entirely certain that some burden somewhere is
lightened by our effort," she says. "Close at hand the effects are immediately
visible. Those around us may know nothing of what is happening, but a weight is
lifted from the atmosphere, or someone we love is set free to be himself, and
the sufferer acquires a new clarity of vision and sensitivity to another's
need."
As for judgment, one participant in the ministers' gathering
distinguished between two types of judgment -- that which is critical or
negative and that which is useful as a red flag reminding us to be consistent
with our own value system. Graham said the latter type of judgment indicates
"what's right and true for me, and if I don't live consistently with that, I
lose my integrity, my soul." The other type prescribes what somebody else
should do and gets in the way of the minister's being present to the person who
needs his or her ministry.
When judgments are not shared, one participant said, "I tell
myself my insights are limited and therefore my judgments will be different."
Another said, "I think I'm coming to see that judgment and compassion can
coexist, but I need to choose which one I will live with at that moment of
ministry. I almost have to make a positive choice" to extend compassion and not
be judgmental.
Graham talked in "BeFriender language" about ministering when
"assumptive worlds" collide -- when the minister's understanding of how the
world does and should operate confronts persons or events beyond his or her
individual experience.
A participant admitted she had to rethink the limits of her
"assumptive world" to minister to a family that functioned effectively in a way
she would have considered dysfunctional. Graham responded that to be effective
in such a situation and be present to those being ministered to, the minister
needs to suspend judgment and "be aware of the fact that maybe my assumptive
world doesn't fit this situation."
Another participant said, "I think the question that is key to
being present is to ask 'what is it like to be you?' " or to imagine what it is
like.
Paulsen explained that compassion and judgment can coexist. "Can
you think of anything that doesn't exist in pairs of opposites, like night and
day, laugh and cry, men and women?" he asked. "Can we have electricity without
positive and negative ions?"
"When we integrate opposites, that's where passion and
sensuousness come from," he said. "If everything we see reminds us of ourselves
and we embrace all sides of our nature, the challenge for us is to ask, Can we
embrace [this experience] in any other way and turn our wounds over, let go?"
At the moment of doing so, "we become sensuous in the right sense, we become
passionate, we become powerful," Paulsen said. Illustrating how opposites
function, he explained that "by way of humility, our self-centeredness is
reduced. And let us thank God for that, because self-centeredness stands in the
way of joy."
Similarly, "by way of loneliness, I think we experience intimacy
in waves at those times when we least expect it." Also, he said, in moments of
meaninglessness, "we all have to come to grips with our guilt: Things we've
done, we wish we wouldn't have; things we haven't done, we wish we would have.
I think guilt for the most part is healthy, because it drives us, pushes us.
Without meaninglessness, we wouldn't know how to go toward meaningfulness.
Without both the negative and the positive, we wouldn't know how to be
creative. Without creativity, we couldn't have meaning."
One does not always realize when one is ministering successfully,
Paulsen said. He felt he failed totally to help "the Smiths" after many
sessions of marriage counseling. "I, in my own way, repented. I simply had not
been enough," he said. Then, about a year later, "the Joneses" asked to see
him, hoping "you can do half as much for us as you did for the Smiths."
Paulsen said what happens in ministry can be a mystery "beyond our
comprehension. If we were ever to understand what occurs between us, it seems
to me we would have lost something very precious."
Respect that mystery, he recommended. He told of talking with a
ranger as they stood at the base of a mountain in Glacier Park that was 13,000
feet high and 100 miles around. A tourist asked the ranger how much the
mountain weighs. "Bless his heart," Paulsen said, recalling the ranger's
answer: "About 16 ounces to the pound."
Paulsen continued, "Let us never dare to think we should even know
the weight of a mountain. Let us stand at the base and say, it's beyond me. But
I know my wounds. And I know that what entered me [through my woundedness] is
that which gives me strength for the journey."
Paulsen further recommended that ministers "let go, put ourselves
in absolute trust. I don't think we do that unless we are in considerable pain
or have learned by way of our own insignificance, our own inability."
"The letting go, the trust, is what gives hope," he said. If we
were so self-sufficient that we did not have to trust, he contended, we then
would be hopeless.
"There are times for the Christian church to quietly make a
presence and say, 'When we are on our knees, we are the most hopeful in a
society that doesn't understand that phenomenon.'"
National Catholic Reporter, January 24,
1997
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