“In the dew of little things, the heart finds its morning and is refreshed” Khalil Gibran

A few Sundays ago, my heart found its morning and was refreshed. 

In the ordination service of a priest, one of the first things that happens is that the Bishop reads the “charge” – that is, a summary of expectations of an ordained minister of God.  As you might expect, there are standards that include proclaiming the Gospel in both word and deed, as well as maintaining a certain standard of living, i.e., “fashioning one’s life in accordance with Gospel precepts.”  Both are difficult to do at times, and especially, on a regular basis. (Most of us can fashion our lives in a good way for a while, but every day – come on!)

     But the next obligation is even more difficult – yet, paradoxically, as easy as breathing: “You are to love and serve the people among whom you work.”  

So far, I’ve been given the role of priest in three different communities.  Even as a seminarian, I was given the authority and privileged place of a minister in the lives of the people.  Very soon after I began in each of these places, I had a similar experience – always in the midst of celebrating the Eucharist.  About three to four months into my tenure, I found myself looking out into the congregation, and being filled with a strong and deep sense of love for the people “among whom I worked.”

     This is always a mysterious and sacred experience – overwhelming in its intensity.  The way I understand it, I believe it is a kind of visitation from the Holy Spirit, which gives me, for just a moment (for that is all I can handle), a sense of the great love that God has for God’s people.  Just for a minute, I am given the mind and especially, the heart of Christ, the good shepherd, who loves these particular sheep so much.  I am grateful for the experience, and find that it enables me, inspires me, re-commits me, every time I remember it.  And often, as I share that sacrament of remembrance with these people who have been entrusted to me, I feel that love again and again.

     I am now in my fifth year at St. Luke’s – the longest I’ve served in any one place.  I feel that love more and more as time goes on.  Sunday was one of those especially tender days for me – getting to teach with a parishioner, who from the start of my time here, has been a good colleague, dear friend, and a  challenging fellow pilgrim on the journey.  We facilitated a class together, peopled with folks that almost to a person, I know well – have worked with, heard their stories and they mine.  These were people who take the notion of a spiritual life seriously – and how rich our time was that morning – how rich their time together was!

Sunday was also “baby day” for me, that is, full of special greetings, special moments received from children – some of whom I’ve known since their birth.  Ben, three years old, in a back pew, spontaneously, un-self-consciously raising his hand in salute as I passed him going down the aisle in procession; Annika, her face so full of life, hope, interest, joy – reaching up to me for the bread –then, impulsively (she felt that holy love, too, I think) – reaching out to give one of those that special, around the-knees- little- kid- kind of hug.  Griffin,  now at the “me do it” stage, climbing the front steps on his own – but getting a little overwhelmed half way up – and instinctively reaching for Mama’s hand – who blushed with pleasure, that her little boy still needed her.   Our eyes met, a shared moment of holy communion as we both realized how far he has come, against so many odds. 

     Not every day in priestly ministry is so rich and so good.  Many, many of them are.  But this work is also disheartening, frustrating, often thankless and usually humbling – and not always in a good way.  Lillian Daniel, a UCC minister who writes a lot about being in ordained ministry, commented on how important length of service is, in understanding and coming to truly love a people and their place.  She describes it as “the experience of hope that comes from the redemption of long term service.” She thanks God, as do I,  that we have had more than those early years of ministry in one place to sustain us  – and the grace to be called to shape, form and live among a group of people long enough to see change and growth and experience; to enjoy  a deeper kind of relationship that comes from shared experience – from times of both success and failure; times of deep joy as well as discomfort and conflict.