Story-telling, Story-making, Story-listening

In my previous post, I reflected on the importance of our biblical heritage, as well as the importance of delving into history to better understand that past. As I reflected on this a bit more, I realized that exploring our biblical history also offers lessons about the importance of story-telling, story-making and story-listening.

Having been raised in the valley of the Appalachian Mountains and now living in the heart of Appalachia, I know the importance of storytelling. It is a critical component of our lives and of our connections with each other. I find I look forward to my own family gatherings, where we share stories of our past, both collectively and individually.  

But I realize that storytelling and memory are not restricted to family gatherings or even non-church settings. I can still remember the Sunday school building of my childhood with its Victorian architecture. The building’s layout is still clear to me even though the building was demolished when I was not yet a teen. I still remember the many faces and places of my church experience.

But I now am transplanted to new place nearly 200 miles away. The stories of these churches are new to me. I realize the importance of the individual and collective stories of each of these churches and of their people. The stories are critical to my getting to know the people and the churches. The facts and fables that populate the people’s impressions of their churches and of each other make nearly indelible imprints on the maps that they use for being church and doing ministry.

The memories and stories impact the manner in which they engage with the people and places of the other churches in the region. The fables of long-ago-deceased parishioners continue to impact how today’s parishioners engage with each other, and particularly with me. I needed to learn these stories. The stories explain who the people are, who they see themselves to be, and who they may perceive me to be.

I took this realization very seriously. I have asked many questions. I have asked people to share their stories with me, both orally and in writing. More importantly, I have listened. I have learned how different today is for them from the past—both good and bad. People are wistful about the good memories. They want to hold on to those memories. But I also learn of those memories that are less favorable. Those stories also provide bridges for me in learning how to assist them in developing new futures as well as creating new memories.

By and large, people see the good and the bad. On reflection, they find that they are open to changes, even if small or incremental. As we engage with the story-telling, I am finding that I hear a lot less today than I did a year ago, the standard response to many of my earlier suggestions for change: “We NEVER did it that way.”  And that is a good thing, wouldn’t you agree?

Theresa 

Learning from our Biblical Fathers and Mothers

Most of the churches with which I work have elected to use the Track One or historical readings for this long period of Sundays after Pentecost until Advent. Thus, we will focus on the fathers and mothers of our biblical faith. We can once again learn about their importance to our biblical heritages and faith by delving into history, reading of their faith and witness.

As a ministry developer for several small churches, I see the importance of history and memory for the folks whom I serve. Last week, I decided to do Canticle 13 instead of the Psalm. Each of the nine times we said and heard the words “Glory to you,” I wanted to break into song, remembering the melodies to which those words are set in other churches that I attended over the years. I gravitated to my memories of what that canticle’s words and its tune mean for me. I remember the Gloria Patri of my own youth in another tradition and my fondness for the Gloria from a close relative’s church today.

I also am attracted by the history behind the canticle, which I shared with the church I visited last week. I noted my admiration that the three young men whose canticle we read could sing words of thanksgiving and joy from the heart of a blazing furnace on account of their faith in God. I also was impressed by the great level of detail to which the full Song of the Three Young Men gave thanks to God for all creation, including the heat of summer, the cold of winter, whales and cattle. More importantly, it offered me a reminder of mankind’s connection with all of creation, as we engage in continued creation, destruction, and re-creation of the earth and its bounty.

Serving rural churches in a beautiful setting of mountains and creeks makes it possible for me to reflect frequently on our connection with the land. That in turn reminds me of our connection with family and friends as we gather each week to offer support to each other, break bread together, share the common cup, and depart into the world to do God’s work.

Eucharistic visitors take a part of themselves and their congregations as they take communion from the services to parishioners. I make a connection with folks as I make pastoral visits or accompany parishioners for important events where they need a friendly companion—a friendly face in the scary crowd.

These connections reflect our own historical connections with each other—connections based on the stories and memories of ourselves and of our ancestors. We rely on these memories, both historical and fabricated, to maintain the connections that make us whole. Without those connections, it is difficult to make those visits, to engage in those conversations, and to build increasing trust and love within the community.

I am hoping that my frequent interactions with the various churches over the summer months, filling in for vacationing clergy, will allow me to help carry the stories of our biblical history into the present and future. I have the opportunity to grow further connections with them as we create new stories that will be the histories of future generations. As we unravel the historical pasts, we can weave new possibilities to be shared and passed along for generations ahead.

May I have the patience to wait and see what unfolds as our new beginnings while companioning my “friends” in this new history of creation!?

Theresa 

Personality Types and Ministry Development

When I have completed Myers Briggs Type Indicator™ personality assessment questionnaires in the past, my balance between any two of the indicators has varied from time to time. All of this has depended on the time in my life at which I was completing the questionnaire and whether or not the assessment program had a spirituality, vocational, or other basis.

Despite these variations, however, I generally “test” out as being fairly strong on the Introversion end of the Introversion to Extroversion scale and very strong on the Judging end of the Judging and Perceptive scale. In my past professions I simply needed to make decisions, meet deadlines, and move on. This trait has been quite helpful in my current vocation and particularly today as I find myself putting together a sermon or a service booklet for a particular Sunday or Holy Day.

I also have tended to be more highly Sensory, versus iNtuitive on the S/N scale. Thinking or Feeling? A borderline case for me, although I generally score slightly closer to Thinking rather than Feeling. My previous professions as a tax lawyer and a legal editor caused me to be more of a Thinker than I am or need to be today, when Feeling certainly seems to play more into the work of a ministry developer.

I ponder all of this as I think about how my personality type seems to interplay with my current calling to ministry development. As a ministry developer, I need to be a good listener and withhold judgment as I take in the relevant information. Yet, I must make quick decisions in times of urgency or when I have limited time with the persons with whom or for whom a decision is needed.

Perhaps it is my introverted, sensory nature of sitting quietly, observing the group dynamics, and analyzing what I was hearing before speaking--and thus being “the invisible person”--that prepared me well for sitting, taking in information, thinking on it, and then considering solutions. My petite stature, the stereotypical view of women, and my ability to sit quietly (as introverts are more prone to do) seems to fit well with this calling. (As anyone who is good at being “invisible” will tell you, remaining quiet is the key to information gathering. Speaking reminds others of your presence and thus you lose the benefit of invisibility.) I guess the one “growing edge,” as they say, with my MBTI fitting with the nature of this work is that I need to withhold the Judging aspect so that I withhold judgment as I take in the information. Did I read that gesture of body language correctly? Did I detect something in the tone of voice that indicates an issue? Or, am I overanalyzing it all? Is the person just having a bad day and so the extraneous information is luring me away from the “correct” path of thinking?

With a supportive supervisor and colleagues, I am honing that urge to come to judgment based on limited information. I regularly use them for reality checks and to bounce off ideas. I also benefit from their wisdom that is less clouded by the trees that might be obscuring my view. All of this is to say that all of this is an evolving process and that perhaps with my MBTI being as it is, my allocation between the various types will slide a bit here and there as I discover and hone the traits best suited to do this work—God’s work.

Theresa 

The Special Moments in Parishioners’ Church Lives

As the itinerant priest, I float from church to church on Sundays and holidays, trying to conform to the church norms--what they might include or exclude from their services, what songs they sing, whether they stand or sit at certain times, etc. But I remain nevertheless the outsider. I am the outsider who is available in times of crisis as well as those times when they simply need a priest for the day. I will never be a member of the parish, although I work hard to get to know the folks, their concerns, and even their likes and dislikes. I remain the missioner, the ministry developer, and even simply the supply priest. I will make the wrong assumptions about what is the “norm” from time to time. Virtually all of the churches can speak to times where I forgot which church’s norm I needed to follow and started leading the “wrong” (as in the not customary) prayer or canticle.

Yet, I also need to guide the churches and their teams to “try on” different ways to do liturgy, different ways to do church. That generally does not endear me with folks who like things they way they always have been, but I understand the fine line that I walk, I walk the fine line in balancing the two concerns, sometimes successfully and sometimes not so much so. I am sure that the churches can tell anyone better than I can how I score on that front. But, I guess I am doing at least okay on that front.  I invested a lot of time early on in spending time, sitting, listening, and of course eating with the people. We rural churches do know how to cook, as they say!

But today I am thinking of those other times, those special times in parishioners’ church lives when being the outsider and the “newbie” is a further reminder of that status. The fact is: as a priest without a church home, I have few opportunities for doing these special liturgies, such as baptisms and weddings. These are special celebrations that intersect greatly with nostalgia, memory and friendships. The persons involved want certain clergy who have been instrumental to their church lives to conduct the services, in their churches. I agree with that goal. I know that I wished to do the same when I was planning the key moments in my own church and personal/family lives.

I wonder at times if I might ever be involved in any of those special events in the people’s lives. It certainly would be an honor and a privilege. It’s not like I am being selected because they like the beautiful church building! I have none!! But when that time may come, there remains a key interpersonal issue: How do I become involved with the service without hurting the “home” team members’ feelings. I am hoping that what I expressed earlier in this posting will hold true. In other words, that I will have built the connections with the folks that they do not see it as an affront but an addition to all that they may provide. The clergy have the opportunity to celebrate and even worship with the people instead of performing. I would not ever want to step on toes or cause hard feelings. In fact I would hope that I would try to incorporate the others in the church to the extent possible so that all feel that they are being fed, spiritually and otherwise. I am an additional guide and shepherd for assisting the church in providing for the spiritual and other needs of the church’s parishioners. I am helping them serve. I am just another instrument for doing so. When I remind myself of that fact, all seems to be just as it should be. I should be able to walk that fine line and soften any hard feelings that might arise out of such a situation. I know impact and intent are two different things. I hope that my extensive training on that dichotomy will come in helpful in doing the dance but also remind me that apologies sometimes will be needed. I just cannot guaranty that the impact will parallel with the intent each and every time. But good relationships, a genuine love for the people and an authentic apology certainly cannot hurt!

I guess what it comes down to is: I can only continue to observe, learn, watch, and pray on that. Yes, prayer seems to be at the heart of it all. I guess my prayer is that God may guide me through the discernment process as the situations arise, so that I proceed with wisdom and pastoral care--so that I proceed in a thoughtful manner that serves the Church and its people. That is about the best I can do, right?

Theresa