Sacred Nature of Friendship

Years ago a wise mentor -- a supervisor during seminary --  looked up from the scotch he mindlessly fondled before dinner and said, "I hate to tell you this, but you need to know: ministry can be hell on friendships." With no elaboration he took his final gulp, got up, and moved to the table. I didn't know what he meant at the time, but something told me I would learn.

Nearly thirty years later, I think I understand. It is a strange paradox; ministers have the privilege of working day-in and day-out with the finest people, and yet many in ministry describe themselves as "isolated among thousands." One reason is that relational roles are frequently fuzzy. One day you're playing a friendly game of golf with people you enjoy and the next day you're in a committee meeting arguing over important matters like the color of choir robes and whether the desserts at Wednesday night supper are sufficient. Another contributing cause is the constant press of schedule. Three-day weekends away with family or friends are extremely rare, reunions even rarer, and Saturday night dinner parties and dates have a hard stop. Though I count myself among the most relationally fortunate, I think I now agree with my former supervisor.

I say all this simply to thank you for a little extra time this summer and to tell you that while I've enjoyed the time to read and travel, even more I've enjoyed saying 'yes' to friendship, that sacred human endeavor which cannot be done in a hurry. For instance, old friends from Atlanta recently offered to host a gathering with folks from our first congregation and to use the occasion to host a book signing party for Suzanne.  We found such joy in simply being able to say 'yes' with no negotiating or qualifying. Also, last weekend, I loved presiding over the wedding of the daughter of dear family friends. We hardly knew how to act when we stayed late into the reception and even accepted the invitation to the post-wedding Sunday morning brunch, something we had never -- in 27 years -- done before. Next weekend, other long term friends are visiting for the weekend to hike, bike, and cook great meals. I find it all life-giving and deeply joyful.

In John's gospel, Jesus affirms the sacred nature of friendship. When speaking to his disciples near the end of the journey, he says "I no longer call you servants, but friends."  I think if Jesus found a way to cultivate friendship with those around him on the journey, then we can as well.

So thank you. Thank you for the time. Thank you allowing gracious space for reading, exercising, sleeping a bit late, and spending long round hours with friends. It's a gift for which I'm deeply grateful.

What Kind of Job Do You Have?

"What kind of job do you have?"

It was an understandable question, posed innocently by an investment banker with whom I'd gathered at a campground bonfire in Utah. We were talking about how we spent the day -- he rafting and I hiking -- when he began lamenting that his time was coming to an end. Naturally, he asked me when I had to go back, and when I answered, he posed his very predictable question.

It is a rare privilege to be granted sabbatic leave, one for which I am deeply grateful. With nine days down, I'm grateful to press pause long enough to offer a bit of a report. My first five days were spent in solitude in a desert environment, partly to assist in my efforts to detach, but also because I've long wanted to dive into a hefty book "The Solace of Fierce Landscapes: Exploring Desert and Mountain Spirituality" in an environment consonant with the subject.  The author, Belden Lane, is a  Presbyterian minister on faculty at a Roman Catholic University where he teaches Jewish stories and occasionally lectures at the Vedanta society. He offers a thorough analysis of apophatic prayer in the Christian tradition and organizes his book in the pattern of classic Christian spirituality: purgation, illumination and union. They are symbolized respectively by the desert, mountain, and cloud. It has been a tough but worthwhile read. The bleakness of the desert augmented my sense of purgation, and I trust later experiences in the mountains will lead to illumination and perhaps even union.

In addition, I've done some lighter reading: two books on St. Francis in preparation for our time in Assisi, an extra 30 minutes a day with the New York Times, and a novel I'm finding too gruesome to recommend. If you're on social media, you also know I've interspersed my time with some epic wilderness ventures in hopes of satisfying my love of unsafe terrain. If you must know more, conduct a search on the "Whole Enchilada" and "Slick Rock Canyon" bike trails in Moab and watch a video or two. I offer that suggestion only now that I'm safely back from the rides!

As I'm sure you expect, I've been eavesdropping a bit on you in my absence and am heartened by what I hear. Worship, weddings, Session meetings, staff meetings, and so much more seem to be humming along just fine, thank you. Yet, I know the effort from both Session and staff is considerable. I'm humbled by your efforts and I'm grateful. I continue to keep all of you in my prayers each morning, thankful for the kind of job I have primarily because of the people with whom I share my days.