Stoic and Warm

I heard a woman recently describe her time in a mainline church as "stoic and warm."  I thought this was an apt description.  I have grown up in church communities like this.  The people are warm and friendly, inviting and welcoming.  Most of the time it's a community of people who love one another and offer support when needed.

But they are also communities where expressing feelings out loud or visibly is discouraged.  I remember as a child being shushed and being told to be still.  I have seen discomfort in the faces of people when babies are crying or if someone unexpectedly gets up and says something aloud.  Waving hands in the air during the music is not the norm in these churches.  Spontaneous words of prayer are met with disapproval.  Sermons with some fire or some emotion are seen with suspicion.

During my time of sabbatical, I have been attending different churches, and many of them have not been mainline churches.  I have to admit that, although I feel discomfort at times, I feel the emotion that permeates the people in the room.  I feel an energy that I don't feel in my usual habitats.  There was one time when I felt very close to tears at the end of the service.

I've been told for a long time that the mainline churches, like the United Church of which I'm a part, are thinking churches, more for people who want to engage their minds.  The pentecostal or evangelical churches that I've been visiting are more feeling churches, more for people who want to engage with their bodies and their hearts.  But why the separation?  I know in the mainline churches, it's come to a point where there is deep suspicion and distrust of evangelical churches.  We point fingers at their lack of social justice and inclusivity.  We roll our eyes at the hand raising during worship and cringe at the lyrics in the music.  For all I know, the evangelical churches are doing the same, pointing fingers at our lack of biblical literacy, suspicious of our lack of emotion, and disdainful of the way we hang on to tradition.

I wonder though what it would look like if we began to look, not with suspicion, but with curiosity.  Why do we do what we do?  Why do they do what they do?  How might we learn from each other?  I don't think we need to become like each other, because there is always room for diversity and people feel comfortable in different places, but I do think there is a lot we could learn.  Might we bring in some of that warmth and vitality to our mainline churches, without sacrificing the engagement with our minds?  Might we learn to experience worship with our whole bodies rather than just listening and reflecting?  Would more people find a home in mainline churches and find the spirit they've been seeking if we began to act in less traditional ways that meet a culture with different needs and expectations?  I think it's worth a try.

Clinging and Suffering

If someone were to ask me what I cling to in life, I might answer that I cling to those things I hold dear in my life, like my family, my friends, my vocation, and my faith.  All of these are very important to me, so I would say that I cling to these things, not wanting to lose them, wanting to keep them in my life.

I recently heard a comment though which has caused me to rethink this.  I learned that in Buddhism, clinging is linked to suffering.  When we cling to something, we suffer.  When we hold on tightly, when we are reluctant to let go, when we are grasping tightly to what we hold dear, this can create suffering.

The first example that comes to my mind is my children.  I love them very much, but when I cling to them, when I want what I think is best for them, or when I fear for them so much that I take over their lives and make them dependent on me, I create problems, mostly for my children.  But if I am grounded in my love for them and put my trust in their abilities, then I will know that the best way of loving them is by giving them the freedom they need to experience life on their own.

If I cling to my faith, am I letting it grow?  Am I being open to new possibilities?  Am I truly listening to the experiences of others and letting them change me?

Many communities cling to tradition and the way things have always been done.  In a world that is changing rapidly, many find security and safety in places that haven't changed or in rituals that remain the same.  If communities remain unchanged in the midst of a changing world, are they truly able to meet the needs of newcomers or of those outside the community crying out for help?  I'm not saying that communities need to react to every passing fad or use the changing world as a model for their own change.  Communities do need to be aware though of what is happening around them.  They need to discern and be open to new ideas that might bring fruit to their own community, that might help them meet the needs of those around them, and that might offer them a new vision and a new way of life.  Jesus said repeatedly in the gospel of Matthew, "You have heard it said...but I tell you..."  The old way or the way it's been done in the past isn't wrong or bad; it may just need to be reevaluated and given new life. 

I've been reciting Psalm 63, which in verse 8 reads, "I cling to you; your right hand upholds me."  When I say the words, "I cling to you," I imagine myself at Jesus' feet, clinging to his feet, a person in distress, crying out for help.  But when I imagine the second half of that verse, "your right hand upholds me," I see myself in the palm of God's hand, uplifted to the sky, facing out, and ready for what the world has for me.  Clinging has it's place, especially when we are in distress, but I would rather be upheld, open to what may come, knowing I'm being supported, feeling that holy presence as an ally on my journey.

May you find the freedom that comes with letting go of that to which you cling.  May you be enriched by new possibilities and new ideas.  May you feel God's right hand upholding you, loving you and supporting you on your journey.  May it be so.

Remit 6 Defeated

For those of you active in the United Church, you'll know a bit about Remit 6.  Almost three years ago, a motion was passed that would make the three streams of ministry in the United Church - ordained, diaconal, and designated lay - into one.  All would be ordained.  This motion, before it could go into effect, had to be approved by a majority of presbyteries and congregations.  We found out this week that the motion was defeated. (Presbyteries voted 26 yes and 50 no.  Congregations voted 713 yes and 950 no.)

Whenever I engage in conversation on this remit, I am amazed how many different opinions exist on this one remit.  For that reason alone, I am glad it wasn't passed.  Some voted against the remit, because they didn't feel it honoured the diversity of ministries.  They felt it was a way of honouring ordained ministry, which is seen as the norm, while dishonouring the identity and value of diaconal and designated lay ministries.  Still others felt that diaconal and designated lay ministers don't get the respect they deserve and so a remit like this would help with that.  It would give diaconal and designated lay ministers equal recognition in congregations and make it easier for them to offer the sacraments in a variety of settings and more access to ecumenical jobs where only ordained ministry is recognized.

There were some who voted no though because they believe ordained ministers to be set apart and more highly educated.  Ordained ministers are required to have a master's of divinity (MDiv).  The United Church values a highly educated clergy and some don't believe that the education of diaconal and designated lay ministers fall into this category.  Although the remit did call for some action on more master's level education for designated lay ministers, it didn't seem to be enough.  I heard from many that some of these conversations were hurtful and seemed to devalue the education of some and presume that they were less worthy in their ministry role because they didn't have an MDiv.

Many agree that this remit was created to make is easier for the church to define and recognize paid-accountable ministers.  There is a lot of confusion, among lay people and those in ministry, when it comes to defining these three streams of ministry.  Only 7% of ministry in the UCC is diaconal and I believe the number of designated lay ministers is similar.  People are most familiar with ordained ministry, both inside and outside of the church.  I admit it can be exhausting always trying to explain the differences, usually over and over again to the same people and in the same context.

As a diaconal minister, I admit to having mixed feelings about the defeat of this remit.  In some ways, it would have made life easier.  I wouldn't have to fight for permission to do sacraments.  I wouldn't see job postings seeking only ordained ministers.  People wouldn't constantly question my credentials and my ability to do fill the role as minister. 

But I also have a fear of losing this distinction.  Being a diaconal minister is important to me.  I initially chose the route of diaconal ministry because I felt drawn to being a Christian educator and also didn't feel I was a person of the Word; I didn't feel I was a preacher.  That has changed.  I have discovered that I love to lead worship and that preaching is a strong component of that.  In my training to become a diaconal minister though, I learned that diaconal ministry is an identity, not just a function.  For me, diaconal ministry values community, social justice, advocacy and being an ally, valuing and honouring everyone's story, and honouring and valuing my own story.  It's about meeting in a circle and checking in with one another.  It's about recognizing and saying hard truths, but valuing other people's truths.  Although it can be difficult to have people misunderstand and devalue my status as a diaconal minister and although I may have to explain myself over and over again, I value my identity as a diaconal minister too much to see it be subsumed as a part of the larger umbrella and norm of ordained ministry. 

The diaconal community gathers in a number of ways.  Nationally, we try to meet every two years.  We are meeting in Winnipeg next month, in April, and I am highly anticipating it.  Each time we gather, I am enriched, inspired, and I am fed.  There is nothing like it. 

I know at this gathering that there will be some disappointed at the defeat of Remit 6 and some who will be rejoicing.  We are one community of people who are diaconal, but we are all very diverse, which is how I see all ministry in the church.  We are a community of ministers, with similar values and functions, but we are also very rich in diversity, each with a different story.  We are not all the same and our expressions of ministry are distinct and varied.  I hope that someday this is seen as a gift and not something to be fixed.