A case of the Jeremiahs
I think I have a dose of what Mary Anne Coates would call "clergy stress". The sky just isn’t as blue and the sunny days aren’t just as pleasing as they were last year (or was it last week?).
Our assembly at best is tiny indeed but attendance figures are badly down. Those that attend are "bible-less" or don’t bother to open the ones they bring (this is true even of the ones you’d think would devour the texts). Some sit with heads down (and that’s even before I begin my eloquent speech, though I have to confess the heads sink lower as I progress). I’ve taken to telling myself that if the absentees had spent a lot of time preparing a good meal and the people that said they’d come simply didn’t turn up—I’ve taken to telling myself that they’d be terribly distressed. And here I am—poor soul—slaving over a hot Bible and scores of literary pots and pans to serve up nutritious food and the "no shows" outnumber the "shows". (And at "the next appointed time" they might show up, smiling and not a word of contrition or apology.)
I tell myself it’s a bad case of rudeness on their part. That’s bad enough but my presently felt sadness goes deeper than that. I once read a book I thought was profoundly good and wise, loaned it to a friend who returned it with a dismissive little sound and a shrug. That was it! And there was another time when I learned a truth that was heart-stopping and eye-opening. I couldn’t wait to share it with a colleague and while I poured it out he did a little bit of doodling. When I was done it was as if I hadn’t spoken. He looked at his watch and said something like, "Well, Jim, I think I’ll head on down the road and see if..." It’s interesting that after all the many years that those two experiences have stayed with me when other marvellous things have been forgotten. I think I took it all too personally, don’t you think so? Yes, I'm certain I did and I don’t dare to cite 1 Samuel 8.7 to illustrate my trivial-by-comparison case. But what was profoundly important and precious to me they didn’t even take seriously enough to praise or oppose. It simply didn’t matter that much to them. And I tell myself that that’s where the offence lies and the hurt registers. I regard our gatherings as profoundly important and precious and the "no shows" shrug and find something to do that pleases them better. And I, poor man, feel the rejection. What I think is important is obviously trivial, the work I put into shaping the worship experience may or may not (excuse me, I need to yawn)—may or may not appeal today or next week or hereafter.
Of course, I must rush to tell you, that the "no shows" or the "shows" that aren’t really there are glad that I (and maybe two others) "keep the doors of the church open". You never know; they might want to take it all up more seriously at some juncture. In the meantime they leave me (and maybe one other) to "hold the fort" so there’s somewhere to go if they ever decide to go.
[I don’t want to list all the good things that go on and continue to go on; that’d only steal away my excuses for the blahs, and right now I need them if I’m going to enjoy my touch of the "Jeremiahs".]
So I thought maybe what I need is a good series of inspiring sermonettes, religious after-dinner speeches or to find a bunch of good jokes I can work a short message around. They might like that; I might see them liking it and regain that sense of buoyancy without which no man can live. Hmmm. Maybe I’ll pass on any of those approaches.
I seem to have read—yes, yes, now that I think of it, I’m sure I did—I read an old letter that was written to a group of discouraged and listless people. Their attendance was down, Bible study was at a low ebb, disappointment was leading to apathy and desertion. Instead of writing a series of inspirational one-liners or offering cultural wit the Hebrew writer wrote one of the most theologically freighted pieces of literature under the sun. I think he thought that the sure cure for............wasn’t..........
Okay, I’m done. Be sure to ask me how my faith is (click here).
©2004 Jim McGuiggan. All materials are free to be copied and used as long as money is not being made.
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