seethrough

i’m too tired to write.

and yet i sit here in front of the computer trying to think of something to say.

in a way I want to write about weariness because it’s seldom really explored.  and yet, being in that worn-out state doesn’t leave one excited about “reflection”.

some of the world’s best poetry has been written during the most painful moments of people’s lives.

i have holiday coming up and leave due to me so there is light at the end of the tunnel.  but I also know how disastrous burn-out has been for so many friends.

one of the pressing voices in my life is the voice of responsibility.  consumer church has set professional pastoral workers up to take a large load of responsibility.  but it’s probably not fair to blame the church entirely.  what kind of people accept that kind of responsibility???  (a certain kind of person who starts out wanting to make a contribution and ends up trying to make other people’s contributions for them…?)

living from peace seems less thrilling to me.  conviction and passion are in many ways linked to the thrill of the deadline.

responsibility

and leading.  leading is tiring too.  seeing and reflecting on the life of a church community with the future in mind.  thinking beyond this week…  considering the “big picture”.  it’s often exciting!  but with a community so invested in the status quo - so reluctant to consider change, so slow to speak about growth and development…  it’s a tiring thing thinking about the future and realising that (in so many ways) we’re waking up about 15 years too late to address the “signs of the times”.  all indications are that a generation has all but given up on church.  and what do we think about that?  well, we haven’t even considered there might be a problem…

i agree that leadership is something of a idol in the church today - as if a leader can transform a church single-handedly…  that is probably the legalistic (perfectionistic, lacking in grace) idol that whips pastors till they burn out…  but leadership does take it’s toll.

then there’s the challenges of family.  (in some ways i see the wisdom of a celibate priesthood).  I can’t help the woman i am married to get the children ready for church, into the car, out of the car, mind them through a service with awfully long periods of silence…  and the incredible challenges of raising children, introducing boundaries and discipline and respect and dignity along with tenderness and grace and spirit and passion.

I think trying to work out how to balance discipline with flexibility as a parent to my son might be the most difficult thing I have ever had to do.  I have seldom lost my temper in the preceding decade, but have done so weekly for the past year.  It’s tiring trying hard and feeling that you’re not making too much progress.  (one thing that helps is being told he’s “an angel” when he’s with other people… nice comments on his report card from his teacher about his manners… etc.)  But it’s tiring having to face the emotions this boy stirs up in me!

hey!  and these are not unique challenges.  i know I’m not alone - as if my life of work and home, career and family are any more difficult than any other person who is trying to hold the tension of many varying responsibilities.

i remember SARK - in one of her amazing books - recommending napping!  maybe i’ll try that…

and let you know how it goes.

how do you face a tragedy?

I sometimes sit with a family who are preparing a funeral for a loved one.  Paying tribute to the deceased is an important part of the funeral service, and the grieving process.  (assuming that the person who has died was really loved and appreciated by the family…) the family often hesitate over the tribute, voicing the fear that they “might not be able to”.  by this they mean they might be overcome with emotion and cry while speaking.

My question is why would we want to avoid tears at a time like this?  Ok, so there’s the public eye.  No-one wants to stand sobbing in front of a group of people.  But is that it?  Have we in some way conditioned ourselves not to feel.  Are feelings of pain, sadness and grief an inconvenience?  even an irritation?  Or perhaps just an embarrassment?

What does weeping during a tribute suggest?  That the person weeping is weak?  That the person weeping has loved and lost?

my sense is that we approach tragedy with our feelings well hidden.  (a huge generalisation, but made on the basis of a growing assessment of a cultural “way of being” of which I am a part.) On Good Friday we come to tragedy of the Jesus’ death on a cross with our heads.  We analyse and consider and theologise the Cross - and in so doing probably miss the horror and the absurdity of Jesus’ death.  We sit and stare at a Cross - the symbol of tortuous punishment and death - and come to some carefully considered opinion about it’s significance.

and then we go home and eat hot-cross buns.

I think we need a dose of feeling.  we need to encounter good friday, and the cross of Jesus, with our hearts.

This Friday co-incided with the anniversary of the Sharpeville Massacre.  In 1960 69 people were killed - mostly shot as they fled the gun-fire of South African police.  Innocent people killed while protesting the discrimitary nature of the pass-laws which required all black south africans to carry special “pass” identification with them at all times.

When we take time to remember - when we face the tragedy - we are tempted to analyse, to attach significance. That’s ok, we are meaning-makers.  that’s what we do.

But when do we weep?  When do we face the absolute tragedy of an innocent person condemned to painful death for no real reason?