{"id":3262,"date":"2024-02-25T15:02:23","date_gmt":"2024-02-25T23:02:23","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/rhmcd.com\/?p=3262"},"modified":"2024-02-25T15:02:23","modified_gmt":"2024-02-25T23:02:23","slug":"what-wondrous-love","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/rhmcd.com\/?p=3262","title":{"rendered":"What Wondrous Love"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

We are a church, a congregation, a spiritual community. We strive to be a beloved community. Sometimes we describe our church as a community of “like-minded” people. Wouldn’t it be better, and more true to our pluralistic faith if we strove to become and maintain a caring community of “like-hearted” people?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

            We\u2019re talking about the mission of the church these winter months, from the solstice through the equinox next month.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            We started with some general thoughts about mission:  that mission appears at the intersection where an individual or an organization\u2019s skills and interests meet the needs of the world; and that the core and primary mission of a congregation is not to do any particular thing but simply to be.  The mission of a church is to be, as our own mission statement puts it, an inclusive religious community that can serve as a container for many things.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            Put those two ideas together:  that we are a community with a particular set of talents available to address a variety of spiritual needs of the world, and you end up with the programs of the church.  Each program area is our church\u2019s expression of the core mission of our church.  All of our programs are work that inclusive religious communities are uniquely set up to do, and to do well, and all of which serve perennial needs of members of our church, or folks who might want to join us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            We looked first at worship.  The need for regular connection with the transcendent aspect of life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            Then we looked at religious education.  The need for lifelong growth and learning, and particularly education around moral and spiritual ideas that aren\u2019t usual covered in secular sources of education.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            Last week we looked at fun and fellowship.  The social need of social creatures to get together and enjoy each other\u2019s company.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            Today I want to look at another program area:  pastoral care, and the perennial need of folks for comfort, care, and companionship through life\u2019s tough times; as well as the parallel need that many church folks feel:  to offer ourselves as agents of care to others.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            As we sang this morning:  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I was sinking down, sinking down,
When I was sinking down beneath my sorrows ground,
Friends to me gather’d round, O my soul, O my soul,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            Pastoral care is one of the areas of education that ministers receive in seminary.  In addition to the seminary courses, UU student ministers are also required to take one \u201cunit\u201d meaning ten weeks, of clinical pastoral education, which means \u201con the job\u201d training, typically at a hospital.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            I did my CPE training at the UCLA Medical Center during the summer of 1997 between my first and second year of internship here with you.  That fall, of 1997, when the new church year started, I preached a sermon about my experience.  I want to read a story from that experience that I shared in that sermon:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cOn June 18th of this last Summer, on the third day of my chaplaincy, I stood in the hall outside a hospital room, being given an orientation tour of the hospital by the previous chaplain.  Inside the room we saw a social worker sitting with a young girl about 11 or 12.  The social worker had her arm around the girl, and the girl was crying.  They sat on one bed, on the other bed lay the dark form of the girl\u2019s father in a coma, unable to move or speak, breathing with a respirator.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

            The social worker came out of the room leaving the girl with her father.  She explained that the girl\u2019s mother had died several years ago, and that when her father died, within the next day or so, the girl would be orphaned.  Arrangements had been made for her to be adopted.  Her new mother and father would be the co-pastors of the church where the family had worshipped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            This was my third day at the hospital.  It was our orientation week.  My only preparation for being a chaplain was the three days of orientation we had had so far, and the one book they had asked us to read before starting.  I was overwhelmed by the story, and by the sight of the young girl crying at her dying father\u2019s bedside.  I had no idea how I could have been of any help to them, and was glad at that moment, that no one asked me to help.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            I went back to that hospital unit assigned to me at the end of that day.  I had been asked by one of the nurses to see a patient if I had a chance:  an elderly woman who was going to be having surgery the next day.  I wasn\u2019t expected to see patients during the orientation week but I thought I could stop in before I went home.  I stopped at the nurse\u2019s station to find out what room the woman was in but I had to wait because the nurse was talking with a man and a woman.  As I heard them speaking, I heard the words \u201cdeath certificate,\u201d and \u201cadoption\u201d.  I realized that this was the clergy couple that would be adopting the girl.  The father had died twenty minutes earlier.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            For a moment I had the feeling that I could just silently turn around and go home.  Nobody recognized me yet as the chaplain.  No one expected me to be seeing patients, yet.  I reasoned that I was, after all, only a volunteer.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

            But although all that went through my head, I realized even as I thought it that I would stay.  Leaving didn\u2019t really seem an option.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

            I introduced myself to the couple.  They were relieved to see me.  We spoke for a few minutes then went inside the room where the daughter was again sitting on the bed and crying, this time she sat with the clergy couple\u2019s own daughter, who would now be her sister.  The father lay on his bed, looking much as he had earlier that afternoon, but now his chest no longer rose and fell, and the respiration machine had been removed.  I spoke with the family for a few minutes.  I felt stupid, like I was saying all the wrong things.  The girl continued to cry, ignoring me.  But the clergy couple and the nurse in the room seemed strangely comforted by my words.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

            After a few minutes I excused myself to speak with the woman patient who was going in for surgery the next day.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

            I spoke with her for maybe half an hour, then came back to the room with the dead father.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            I was stopped by a nurse in the hall.  The family had now had their chance to say goodbye but the daughter was reluctant to leave.  I went back into the room.  Everything looked much as it had half an hour earlier.  I came close to the daughter and not wanting to sit beside her, knealt in front of her and looked up into her face, wet with tears.  I said, \u201cIt\u2019s hard to say goodbye, isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            She nodded.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

            I asked, \u201cWhat could we do that would help you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            She said, \u201cI just don\u2019t want to leave him lying here all alone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            I asked, \u201cWould it help you to leave him, if you knew that someone would be with your father, and that we would take good care of him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            She nodded.  The nurse came over and very gently explained what they would do for her father, that he wouldn\u2019t be left alone, and that they would treat him with care.  The girl agreed to go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            The male pastor asked me if I would say a prayer.  So I held hands with the family, and the nurse.  The girl stood close to the bed and she held her father\u2019s hand.  For the first time in years, I said a heartfelt prayer.  I have no idea what I said.  Words came to me and I said them.  I prayed to God, because I believe in a God of a certain type.  I asked that the family feel the comfort of God\u2019s continuing care and presence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            Again I was amazed at how the right words seemed to appear just as I was saying them.  And again I was amazed at how my few simple words seemed to immediately calm and comfort the gathered family.  When I finished, they were ready to go.  I walked with the family down to the elevator, and then because they seemed somewhat unsure where to go, I took the elevator down with them and walked them to the front door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            In seminary they make a big deal about the limits of pastoral care, particularly in a parish setting where pastoral care is only part of the job, unlike chaplaincy which is a ministry devoted to pastoral care.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            So pastoral care is not medical care, obviously.  Nor is pastoral care social work or therapy, though it includes elements of those.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In a church setting, the work of pastoral care is to provide spiritual comfort and resources.  Usually that\u2019s handled by the minister.  Listening first of all.  Sympathy.  Prayer if that would be helpful.  I suggest spiritual resources, such as spiritual practices or rituals.  I share relevant stories from scripture or religious tradition.  Sometimes I recommend a book.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When people talk to me, I always try to help them identify resources for practical support.  It\u2019s comforting for people to name the sources of care they are already connected to.  And it\u2019s good for me to be aware of the people that I might need to talk to at some point.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The biggest help I give, usually, is providing a quiet space with a focused listener for a person to talk out their troubles.  I sometimes offer advice, but it\u2019s usually better just to listen and to let people find their own way to solving their own problems.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I visit a church member in their home, or in the hospital, I\u2019m always very aware that it isn\u2019t me visiting, little Ricky Hoyt; it\u2019s the minister.  I come in my role as minister, which means, when I visit, I bring the church.  And that, I think, is an incredible comfort.  Without saying a word, simply being there, which is an easy thing for me to do, I demonstrate that depth of love that this congregation has for its members.  That\u2019s powerful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In a church setting, the minister is usually supported by a lay pastoral care team.  We have an amazing team in this congregation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The lay team are usually just as equipped as I am to do the listening, sympathetic part of pastoral care.  Perhaps they are imagining that I do something more than that, but I don\u2019t really.  But the special work of the lay team is the practical assistance that people often need, the covered dish delivered to someone who doesn\u2019t have the energy or mobility to cook for themselves.  The ride to the doctor\u2019s appointment, or home from the hospital, or to church.  And the phone calls, and the get well cards.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When Jane Swanson arrives with a container of soup, that demonstrates the care of the congregation at least as efficiently as when I show up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Pastoral care is the whole network of a congregation watching out for each other.  The news that gets shared at choir rehearsal or at coffee hour, and the people who then make up their mind to arrange a visit, or make a phone call.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It isn\u2019t magic.  It\u2019s love.  It\u2019s ministry, but not only from the minister.  It\u2019s a community taking care of itself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Here\u2019s a little more from that sermon I wrote after my summer in the hospital:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cBefore the Summer began, I was very frightened about what I would do as a chaplain. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

            I was worried that I wouldn\u2019t know what to say.  But the patients didn\u2019t care what I said; all they wanted was someone to listen.  On the few occasions when it was hard for a patient to talk, we often just sat in silence, or I asked a few questions to draw them out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            I worried that my faith, which brings comfort to me, wouldn\u2019t bring comfort to my patients.  But the patients didn\u2019t care what my faith was.  If I said a prayer to God, no one ever asked me what I meant by that word.  And again, and again when I conspicuously didn\u2019t<\/em> pray \u201cIn Jesus\u2019 name,\u201d and was careful not<\/em> to pray to God as though God were an old man in the sky, I heard people adding in their own phrases of \u201cOur Lord Jesus Christ\u201d, and \u201cOur Father in Heaven.\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

            People didn\u2019t want to hear about my religion, they wanted to talk about their own.  I realized that Unitarian Universalists are natural chaplains, because we\u2019re taught to respect different spiritual paths and to admit that we don\u2019t have all the answers.  I ministered equally well to Buddhists, and Jews, and Christians.  I even ministered well to the atheists who didn\u2019t think they had any use for a chaplain, because I understood that you don\u2019t have to talk about God or Heaven in order to talk about hopes and fears and about finding meaning in life.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            I wonder about that girl I met in the hospital on the third day of my CPE training.  The girl whose father died.  I wonder how her life has turned out.  She would be nearly forty years old now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            I\u2019m sure she remembers the day her father died.  I wonder if she remembers the chaplain?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            If she does, I\u2019m sure she doesn\u2019t remember what I said.  I don\u2019t remember what I said.  But whatever words I used that evening as she held her dead father\u2019s hand and prepared to go home with her new parents, I hope this is what she heard:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            You are loved.  You are loved by every person in this room, and by countless people beyond this room.  The love your father gave to you has not ended with his death.  People die.  Love does not.  Your father\u2019s love will continue to be with you throughout the rest of your life, multiplied and magnified by an ability now to stretch beyond the limits of a person to encompass all times and places.  Everywhere you are, now and forever more, your father\u2019s love will be with you.  There\u2019s no need to say goodbye, because no one is leaving.  In this singular universe there is no place to go. Everywhere you go, for the rest of your life, every door you open, your father\u2019s love will greet you.  It is his love, this same love, that you will feel from this man and woman, your new parents, and from this girl, your new sister, and from every friend you will ever meet, and from every source of care and comfort you ever find in life.  And it will be this same love, your father\u2019s love, that you extend to others throughout your life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat wondrous love is this that brings my heart such bliss, <\/p>\n\n\n\n

and takes away the pain of my soul, of my soul\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            Love is the spirit of this church<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Love is the mission of this church<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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