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Take My Hand

PRACTICING SELF-CARE

MY BROTHER, JOHN, AND his wife, Kelly, came to visit shortly after I arrived in the town of Dublin. They live in Brooklyn, which is a long way from my home in more ways than one. Kelly remarked that it was amazing to hear the crickets at night instead of the traffic. Her comment took me by surprise; I had been thinking about next week’s sermon. My mind was as busy and congested as a street in Manhattan. After only a few weeks on the job, I realized that I needed to take better care of myself.

Sabbath is a time of rest and renewal. It is also one of the Ten Commandments (Exod 20:8–11; Deut 5:12–15). While no sermon would suggest that the other nine laws are optional, even the best pastors sometimes act as if honoring the Sabbath was merely a friendly suggestion. When Barbara Brown Taylor worked in the parish, she stayed just as busy on her “day off” as any other day. With refreshing candor, she examines her inability to rest: “Taking a full day off was so inconceivable that I made up reasons why it was not possible. If stopped for a whole day, there would be no more weekend weddings . . . Sick people would languish in the hospital and begin to question their faith. Parishioners would start a rumor that I was not a real shepherd but only a hired hand . . . If I stopped for a whole day, God would be sorely disappointed in me.”¹

It is due to such anxiety that Stanley Hauerwas refers to most Protestant pastors as quivering masses of availability. I am aware that I often bend over backwards to please people, rather than make any effort to take care of myself. The desire to be needed often trumps the desire to relax. Like Taylor, I don’t want a poor reputation among my parishioners. I don’t want to miss an opportunity for ministry. Perhaps on a deeper level, I don’t want God to be disappointed in me either. On the very first night of my first vacation as a pastor, I dreamed that one of my parishioners had just lost her mother in a tragic accident. I knew full well that this person’s mother has been dead for years. In my dream, however, she had died suddenly and everyone was waiting for me at the funeral. What a nightmare!

In my conscious mind, I know that Sabbath-keeping is not a luxury. Not only was it mandated in the Ten Commandments, the first creation story beautifully illustrates that rest was part of the original divine intention (Gen 2:1–3). Following a long tradition of Jewish interpreters, Jesus maintained that the practice was for our health and well-being: “The Sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the Sabbath” (Mark 2:27). Scripture teaches that God is not “disappointed” with those who honor the spiritual practice of renewal and refreshment.

When I had that nightmare about the funeral, my family was in Scotland for my father’s first sabbatical after twenty-five years of ministry. This was an amazing opportunity, and I tried to relax. From a train window, I looked over the landscape of northwestern Scotland and noticed a great similarity to southwestern Virginia. Just like back home, I saw purple wildflowers, red farmhouses, gray distant mountains, and green rolling hills. Yet not everything was the same: because Scotland is farther north, the climate is colder and the growing season is later. While grain was still growing in their fields, the hay was cut and baled back in Dublin. I have come to think of this difference as a fitting metaphor for the Sabbath. My time away is not the time for harvesting; the work I was called to do at New Dublin is finished like the baled hay. This realization has continued to help me relax, even long after my family came back and I returned to work.

I’ve also tried to honor the Sabbath as part of my worship of God. In retrospect, Taylor learned a profound spiritual reason, not simply to take a day off, but to obey the Sabbath commandment: “The clear promise is that those who rest like God find themselves free like God, no longer slaves to the thousand compulsions that send others rushing towards their graves.”² No longer quivering masses of availability, we are free to serve others out of love. I once told my wife that I would stop at nothing until I had led her to happiness. I was referring to my new position as a pastor and about how I was going to make everything perfect in Dublin for us. Ginny replied, “Take my hand, and we’ll find our way together.”

As we are all on a journey through life, I have come to believe that we need the support of other people in order to keep the Sabbath.

SABBATH FOR US

There is an Amish community less than thirty miles from New Dublin Presbyterian Church. Since some of my parishioners live in this area, I have a unique window and fascinating insight into the Amish lifestyle.

First of all, the Amish take the Sabbath seriously. Very seriously. On Sunday, their businesses are closed, only the most basic chores are completed, and everyone goes to worship. At first glance, their community seems to be in perfect harmony with the rhythms of work and rest. But the Amish lifestyle does not mean peace for everyone.

The Amish straddle a fine line with their non-Amish neighbors, referred to as “the English.” While they are intentional about restricting outside influence upon their way of life, the Amish impact the lives of others, especially in a small community. Some of these influences are minor inconveniences, such as horse manure on the roads. Others, however, are quite jarring. Though the Amish do not drive gasoline-powered vehicles, they do hire huge trucks and other pieces of large equipment to build their homes, farms, and businesses. I spoke with one “English” neighbor who bitterly complained that the Amish have inundated their peaceful community with a barrage of loud machinery. Now there is something I never expected to hear.

Despite my initial impression about their practice of the Sabbath, the Amish are not even at peace among themselves. Shortly before I arrived to the area, their community split over a theological issue. There was a charismatic movement among a few families who demanded to be re-baptized by immersion. The more traditional Amish balked, so some families “jumped the fence” and are no longer part of the community.

Let me be clear that I admire and respect much about the Amish. Rather than criticize their lifestyle, my point is that even a strict adherence to the Sabbath does not necessarily translate to peace and harmony. Furthermore, I certainly do not wish to appear overly critical of others because there is a great deal of tension and the potential for schism in my own tradition.

During my first summer at New Dublin, the Presbyterian Church of the United States of America was embroiled yet again in the controversy over the ordination of gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people. Our general assembly passed an amendment to the ordination standards, which meant that the proposal was sent to the presbyteries. This process is roughly analogous to the United States Congress approving an amendment to the Constitution and needing ratification from the states. In the PC (USA), Amendment 10A passed in 2011.

The goal of the amendment, as I understand it, was actually to make the standards for ordination more reflective of a person’s total commitment to the faith. The language of Amendment 10A required each person to “submit joyfully to the Lordship of Jesus Christ” as part of the requirements of ordination. I find it ironic that many of those against this change would fully support such a statement in other contexts. In this case, opposition arose because the new language replaced the ordination standard known as the “fidelity and chastity” clause, which mandated fidelity in marriage and chastity in singleness. Since marriage is defined exclusively between a man and a woman, this clause effectively barred people in same gender relationships from ordination.

For me, this national debate was deeply personal; several of my dearest friends could not serve the church they love with their talents, hearts, and minds because of the gender of the person whom they loved. I support Amendment 10A so that all may serve who are gifted by God for ordained ministry. Though I realize the debate is divisive, it is my opinion that ultimately our church will become stronger, larger, and more faithful because of the gifted individuals who are now able to serve alongside us.

Opinions about this amendment vary at New Dublin. We have both card-carrying Republicans and bumper sticker Democrats. Though I am to the left of the majority of my parishioners on the issue of homosexual ordination, I try to be respectful to every single person. For many on both sides, this issue hits close to home. Regardless of one’s opinion about an amendment, always remember that an issue may have a face, and that face may be a loved one.

While everyone is not going to agree, we can strive for unity—we can continue to worship and work together in ministry. New Dublin understands this better than most churches I’ve encountered. It seems to me that our ability to live together, despite our differences of opinion, is related to our practice of Sabbath.

During the spring and fall, New Dublin Presbyterian Church makes time for “lemonade on the lawn.” Immediately after worship, we gather under the canopy of oak trees outside of the sanctuary. Perhaps we have other places to be; maybe we have important responsibilities elsewhere. But we stop, at least for a moment, and we drink lemonade, eat cookies, and talk to each other. People who disagree on any number of issues still shake hands.

Before our country church is hopelessly stereotyped, I must maintain that our parishioners are just as busy as anyone else in our community. In fact, we seem to get busier all the time. While I was active in sports as a child, it is routine for today’s youth to practice a musical instrument, attend an after-school meeting, and play a sports game on the same day. When I was growing up in North Carolina, we did not even have practice or rehearsal on Sundays. Today’s games start at the 11 o’clock worship hour. I hear parents talk about their dizzying schedules between work, school, errands, and other commitments. While there are benefits to each one of these activities, I think we can safely say that our society is not promoting the practice of Sabbath.

I also believe that there is a connection to be found between the lack of Sabbath-keeping and the increasing level of hostility in our society. There is so little time to stop and think. Little wonder, then, that the nuances of ethical issues rarely sink in. Our political polarization is the equivalent of the microwave meal: pre-packed and half-baked. Our public discourse consists of sound bites that we catch on the way to the next event. We have lost the ability to listen deeply because we are rushing out of the door with the car keys in one hand and the cell phone in the other.

Perhaps part of the solution to bitter partisanship is quite refreshingly simple. New Dublin Presbyterian cannot solve our country’s problems, but at the very least, we make time for lemonade on the lawn.

As the pastor, I admit that I work during this Sabbath time. I use lemonade on the lawn as an opportunity to hear about a family member in the hospital, get an update on a child away at school, and meet that neighbor whose been wanting to come to church. I can answer a question about the sermon or offer a personal prayer. In other words, lemonade on the lawn helps me with my job.

But as a Christian, I am incredibly grateful to be a part of a community that models a practice of Sabbath. We are journeying together and should make time to listen to one another. As a church, we need take each other by the hand . . . perhaps now more than ever.

“GOOD INNKEEPERS”

July 11, 2010

Luke 10:25–37

Jesus told a parable about a Samaritan who helped a person lying on the side of the road. The moral is to “go and do likewise” (Luke 10:37). There are thousands of poignant and beautiful stories of people throughout the centuries who helped victimized people. Many good sermons have retold one of these stories as a means of inspiring people to do the same.

But I imagine that everyone here this morning already has an idea of what it means to be a Good Samaritan. I would guess that many of you have your own personal examples when you or someone you know helped someone else in need.

So this sermon is going to try a new approach by focusing on a different character: the innkeeper. This morning, I’d like for us to put ourselves into the innkeeper’s shoes. We know what it means to be a Good Samaritan. What about the Good Innkeeper?

Jesus introduces the innkeeper rather late in the parable. The poor man has already been robbed and beaten; the priest and Levite have come and gone. The Samaritan has stopped and bandaged the man’s wounds. Almost at the very end of the story, the Samaritan took the injured man to the inn. Many of us, however, don’t follow the story this far. By this point, we have identified with one of the other characters, either positively with the Samaritan or negatively with those who passed by on the other side of the road. But there are others ways for us to identify with the parable; after all, there is another character.

Focusing on the role of the innkeeper in the parable helps me to identify with him. Notice that the innkeeper was asked to help in his usual place of employment; the Good Samaritan brought the man to the inn. He also gave money, so the innkeeper was trusted to be honest with his services. In addition, the innkeeper was asked to go beyond his normal duties and care for the beaten man. The Samaritan left him in charge; he trusts the innkeeper to nurse the beaten man back to health. So the extraordinary actions of the Samaritan also demanded a great deal from the innkeeper. The innkeeper did not choose to help the man lying on the side of the road, but, because he happened to be where he was, the innkeeper was charged to go the extra mile for someone in need. Can you relate to these experiences?

Putting ourselves in the shoes of a character in a parable has a long history of interpretation. For instance, the ancient church leaders read the parable as an analogy, meaning that each character symbolized someone in the real world. Our Vacation Bible School is going to study the parable of the Sower this week. As Jesus explains, the seed represents the word of God and the good soil symbolizes the people who hear God’s word.

But many biblical interpreters of the past also read the parable of the Good Samaritan as an analogy. The inn represents the church. Like the inn, the church is a place where people come to be healed. Jesus is the Good Samaritan who rescues people and then brings them to the church. That means that we are like the innkeeper. We have been trusted to continue the ministry of compassion that Jesus began.

This interpretation fascinates me.

Now this familiar parable takes on a whole new meaning! If we identify with the innkeeper, we realize that sometimes the opportunity to help others comes to us. We are called to practice acts of compassion in our everyday jobs. The example of the innkeeper also teaches us that it takes more than one person to lend a helping hand. It seems to me that these are important points to bear in mind.

Often we think of this parable and imagine ourselves as the Good Samaritan. Typically, we are encouraged to stop and assist a person in a car accident on side of the road. It is a good thing to lend a helping hand, but the truth of the matter is that every situation is not a choice between stopping or passing by on the other side. This idea is too simple to ring true in our complex world. From the homeless veteran sitting at the intersection to the media coverage of disasters all over the world, we see and hear of people in need on a daily basis. I don’t know about you, but I can feel overwhelmed; I can feel bombarded. If I am always identifying with the Good Samaritan, I feel helpless. How can one person meet so many needs? How can I stop for every single person on the side of the road?

I can’t; you can’t.

But Jesus calls us to go and do likewise! What then can we do?

Instead of comparing every situation to the Good Samaritan, it is helpful to think of ourselves as a community. The church really is like an inn. People come here to find rest and strength for their journey. During their stay, they meet fellow travelers. Even if you have walked a great distance by yourself, you are part of a community once you step foot into the inn. As a group of helpers, we can use our resources to address needs. Like the innkeeper, we are called to be good stewards of financial resources. We are trusted to spend our money and our time in ways that provide care.

When I was interviewing to be the pastor of New Dublin, certain members on the search committee expressed great excitement about a past partnership with a Presbyterian church in Merida, Mexico. I was told that strong relationships have been formed between families and individuals. I was very excited to see this for myself. During my first trip to their church, it was truly wonderful to see the joyful reunions between the Americans and the Mexicans. As people embraced, there was genuine love in everyone’s eyes. We visited people in their homes and our brothers and sisters graciously hosted us. Through “Spanglish” and hand gestures, we exchanged details about family members and gave updates about church programs. We rekindled our partnership.

One evening, our group met with their session about ways that we could strengthen the relationship between the two churches. By the end of the meeting, we had agreed to form an email prayer chain to maintain open lines of communication. I was grateful for the commitment to mutuality. This is not a charity project, but an ongoing and evolving partnership, which entails learning and sharing from both parties. This is not a case where we are the Good Samaritans; with our partners in Mexico, we are called to be part of the same inn.

In calling the church to be the hands and feet of the savior, God has charged us to continue the ministry of compassion by working as one community. May we be servants to those Christ calls into our midst; may we be found faithful when Christ comes again to see that those entrusted to our care are nursed back to health; may we all be good innkeepers together.

1. Taylor, Leaving Church, 135.

2. Ibid., 136.