Sabbath 25: Megan's post, Tripp's post
Muller spends this chapter talking about how he began a life spent as a therapist, counselor, and pastor.
"As early as I can remember, I was both drawn to, and pained by, the sorrows of others."
"Today, 25 years later, they still call me."
He says that his biggest asset, his biggest gift, is the ability to be nothing. To be invisible. To be so completely non-obtrusive that it draws others out, and so that others can be completely at peace.
He ties this to sabbath in that we can create sacred spaces of time for one another, by being present, calm, in the midst of crisis: "Others share with me how they are sabbath for one another. 'After years of running from patients to meetings and writing reports and calling volunteers I have finally learned that my real job, when dealing with dying patients, is to be calm, the eye of the storm.' "
"...at our best, we become Sabbath for one another... we become space, that our loved ones, the lost and sorrowful, may find rest in us."
Muller has a gift. It's obvious from his description of his life. But I'm not sure I agree with his description of it, or that I understand it the same way he does.
* * * * * * * * * *
Muller's experience rings with a certain amount of truth. The first rule they tell you in chaplaincy training is: shut up. Let people talk. They are not interested in your answers to their problems, even if you would love to solve the problems of the world to your own satisfaction.
The second general rule is: Just be a calm, non-anxious presence. In crisis, people want to know that you're there, but they don't necessarily want to talk to you.
That's true, in my limited experience, in the vast majority of crisis situations, or health emergencies. But there's a significant difference between 'being sabbath' for people as a counselor or a chaplain, and 'being sabbath' as a friend or a pastor--or a priest. Hold that thought for a second...
Muller's suggested Sabbath exercise threw me for a loop for a while, until I think I figured it out. He suggests getting rid of stuff you don't need. Take a box of old clothes to a charity, for example. Let go of stuff. Okay, that's probably a good idea on general principles, but... I think the connection is that he spends time in the chapter talking about being in the midst of counseling relationships, and bringing none of himself into the conversation, so that others were free to speak about what burdened them. So, he suggests, do something to diminish yourself. Let go of physical things you don't need, and that effort will help you be spiritually more invisible, thus more able to help.
I think his suggestion is a good one, but the connection (which he doesn't make, but again I'm guessing) is ridiculous.
coming back to the thought you were holding, I'm going say that I think Muller is talking as a crisis visitor or a therapist. His job really is to get out of the way and focus on the person in crisis or therapy. But as a friend, or a pastor, what people need most when they ask you to be with them, when they ask you to talk with them, is not your absence, the way Muller talks about "making yourself a zero." They don't want your absence, they want your presence.
I got a call from the family of one of my parishioners this week, asking me to come to the hospital. It turns out that I had the great privilege of holding her hand while she died.
And while I think my teachers were right about the best thing I could do was be there, they didn't call me so I could be a vacuum in the room to draw out their pain--they called me to be their friend and their priest, to pray with them and sing favorite hymns and commend her soul to God.
Yes, we can be Sabbath time for each other, but I think being Sabbath time is more about presence that absence.
27 May, 2007
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1 comment:
Good stuff. I struggle with the "friendship" component to ministry...You have made me think by placing that friendship in the hospital setting.
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