All Together With
I went to Divinity School, in part, because I wanted to learn what to say and do when people were going through times of illness, trauma and loss. I had lived through a major medical crisis when I was very young, and during that time my family was surrounded by all kinds of people of faith who gave care and support to us. I wanted to be that tangible help and care for others, but I wanted training … ideally, I wanted to know what exact words to use or not to use with grieving or hurting people.
Anyone who has been a caregiver or been through classes in counseling or pastoral care will guess that the training I got–both in classes and in field work– was not what I went in looking for. At first, it was frustrating, but Professor Kristen Leslie insisted: there are no magic words. There is ministry of presence, there is deep listening. There are practices we could learn of listening and presence, of being able to be with people in their grief and receive whatever they express non-judgmentally and non-anxiously. We practiced these practices in role plays in our Pastoral Care for In-Between Times class, and I fretted.
One day in class I laid out all my worries: sometimes it was helpful to pray, but sometimes interjecting a prayer closed things off too soon; sometimes we were supposed to fight the urge to break silences, but other times silence wasn’t helpful; sometimes we needed to avoid rushing people to hope, but we were told not to leave them in their darkest moment without hope, either. “How will we know what to do, when?” I asked. “Practice,” said Professor Leslie. “It will come with practice.”
I used to think of the Body of Christ as a vast cellular network where healthy, strong parts rush in to support and heal the parts that are going through trauma, grief and loss. I worried that I wouldn’t know what to do when I was called upon to be that strong and confident healer, even though my family and I had benefited so much from the Body’s work to help, support and heal.
But really, the Body is always hurting, even the parts that are helping, supporting and healing. We practice suffering and rejoicing and healing together: as we read in 1 Corinthians 12:26: “If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it.” We care for each other not out of perfect strength, or perfect health, but because we are connected: “all together with.”
Educator and theologian Parker Palmer once told a group of new pastors: “Anyone lucky enough to live will live through heartbreak. Sometimes your hearts will shatter and it will take a long time to recover. Other times, God will soften your hearts and they will break open, and you will be amazed at how you have even greater capacity to love than before.”
Life sends practice in caregiving and receiving our way, and also sometimes truly terrible heartbreak. For brokenhearted people nearby, in Ukraine, around the world, and in our prayers, I am praying for all the love and support, the listening and the presence, of the well-practiced, broken-open-hearted, Body of Christ. Amen.
Bishop Anne Edison-Albright
