A Good Death

What is a good death? We talk about a good life? We see the optimistic logo of “Life is Good” on a wide variety of apparel and other items. We smile when we see the stick figure man or his stick figure relatives or friends doing or being that which gives them pleasure. But is a “good death” anything similar? As a ministry developer in formation and service, I have been asking myself this very question. My answer? A resounding “No.”

Yet, despite my “no,” I also have a sense of what a “good death” is. I also see one of my fundamental roles as a ministry developer to be a companion to others experiencing a death as we seek to make it a “good death.” Parishes, ministries, and ministers must engage with death—dance with death--when we acknowledge that we no longer should continue that which no longer brings energy for the people involved. In many ways, we “dance” with death when we engage in making changes of any sort—good or bad—for they involve a grief for what was and what may no longer be.

Perhaps one of the most challenging, yet compelling and beautiful, activities in which we ministry developers engage is that of pastoring others through a change that leads to a good death. We are called to demonstrate that we care, that we will be there as a companion each step along the way, and that we join them in grieving that loss. But the other important part of the journey along the path to and through a “good death” is to assist others in seeing the new birth that comes out of a good death. A good death always leads to a new birth of sorts, for we must till the seeds of death back into the soil and nurture them for them to spring forward into that new birth.

We also must be patient. We must nurture, watch, and sometimes just wait for the new birth to sprout. We then must repeat the process once again.

Yes. That is one of the fundamental tasks of being a ministry developer—being the loyal, patient, caring companion to help open eyes and hearts to what is before and grieve with others the good death from which the new birth may emerge.

Theresa+

Bread of Life in the Midst of Vulnerability and Self-Doubts

We now are in the midst of a series of lectionary readings that dwell on the “bread of life” imagery found in the Gospel of John. Overlapping scripture passages are found in the selected readings, yet we also move forward from physical hunger in the story of the feeding of the 5,000 to spiritual feeding as in the “bread of life” imagery.

All this in the midst of being a ministry developer working with multiple churches and thus dealing with multiple deaths, losses, and changes as the needs cross church and community boundaries. As I call one parishioner to offer a visit and the sharing of the Holy meal, I learn of still another tragedy impacting an additional parishioner. I turn on the television for my weekly one-hour fix with a soon-to-end television series, only to experience another death. The fact that the television program is not reality makes no difference; I still feel the heart pangs of loss.

I live and work and serve within the midst of heartbreak and challenges. I am to be the strong calming influence for those around me. I listen to another tearful story. I pray for wholeness of body and spirit. I seek the strength to listen, be, and support yet another person in need—a person who for that moment needs undivided focus on his or her needs, not the needs of others across the other church communities that I serve.

I encourage parishioners to take care of self; yet, I admit that I struggle to practice what I preach. How do I explain to one church community my need for self care when the community sees only a thin slice of who I am and what I do. They see me only when I am serving them. Are they jealous when I am seen serving others or, even carving out time for myself? What runs through their minds when I have a conflict between my multiple charges and have to “choose” one over the other, even if I made the other commitment first?

All of these are challenges to be sure. I raise them here as part of the sharing of my “diary,” with great risk I know. I am just as vulnerable as each of the persons and communities that I serve. I cry inside when they are crying. I lose sleep wondering how to be a better shepherd on our joint pilgrimage journey; I wonder if I am doing it okay. I am sure that the answers to that last question are as varied as there are people answering.

So I guess it all comes down to this: What does Jesus want? And where that answer is unclear, am I listening for the guidance that I need to hear? I pray that “yes, I am.” I cannot be all things to all people, but I certainly can look to God and let God provide the tools to do that which is life giving and offer the companioning as we seek the “bread of life” that Jesus promises. I must let go; I must let God. Perhaps revealing my vulnerability is not such a bad thing after all.

Theresa