Chapter 8
Hester sat in the pastor’s cozy study. A small window made up of nine smaller windows looked out onto the parking lot and the daycare children at play on a plot of grass adjacent to it. An assortment of youngsters in various shapes, sizes, colors, and religions hung from modern day monkey bars and brightly colored sliding boards. An ecumenical collection of spiritual books lined the shelves within the room, some of them lying sideways on top of the upright ones in order to squeeze in a few extra volumes here and there. Hester was facing the next phase of her spiritual development; perhaps some of her thoughts and feelings were presented in the books she now shared the room with. She had run away from this church in anger and rigidity of thought and was now considering returning to the fold. She needed to bare her soul to the pastor and set things right, no matter what might come of it. Her pale skin displayed a few mauve blotches around her neck and lower face. This physiological phenomenon occurred whenever Hester was anxious--it also happened whenever she found a dead body.
Pastor Kathryn tapped lightly on the partially opened door as she moved through it and into her study in a fashion suggesting that she does this on a regular basis. She gently closed the door behind her and gave her guest a broad and welcoming smile. The pastor extended her hand to Hester, who stood up as the women entered, and they shook hands warmly. Twenty-odd years of pastoral work helped this clergy person’s soul to assess the situation quickly. The woman sitting in her study with blotches on her neck was going through a spiritual crisis and what she needed most right now was a listening heart, someone who would not judge her harshly. The cleric prayed to Jesus quietly, asking that the Holy Spirit would lead her, and that she would do what Jesus would do in such a situation. When both women were seated and a few moments of small talk about the children outside had evaporated into silence, Hester cranked up her courage and took charge of the conversation.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Pastor Kathryn. You may know that I was a member of Salem Lutheran Church for many years, or perhaps you don’t know that.”
“Your name sounded familiar to me, Hester, so I took the liberty of looking for it in our church records. Sure enough, I found your name there. I must have seen it during the first years of my pastorate here,” said the minister, “while I was getting the lay of the land, so to speak.”
“The reason I left this church was because I disapproved of the attitude and behavior of your predecessor, Pastor John. He would make changes, both liturgical and procedural, without really consulting the congregation. When he did consult us on any matter, the congregation was often divided over the change. I suppose we just get too lost in trivia at times, pastors and all of the People of God as well. I am so grateful for Jesus and how he puts up with us, and this gratitude is growing day by day at this juncture of my life. It is a miracle of grace, and a witness to the truth of the Church in its various expressions, that it continues to exist at all, given the events of the past two thousand years.” Our humanity, my humanity is very flawed--and very beautiful--at the same time. I am learning to be more patient with others and, above all, as Saint Francis de Sales says, more patient with myself.
The pastor nodded her head and gave a knowing smile as a way of encouraging the person before her to continue on. Don’t interrupt her; she’s on a roll.
Hester took a deep breath and then let it out slowly, the way she had learned to do in yoga class. “Well, I used my annoyance at these relatively small matters as an excuse for leaving this church. I blamed absolutely everything on the pastor. Reflecting back on it now, and observing other people in various other churches, I have come to the conclusion that we can easily project our own hang-ups, if you will, onto a clergyperson when we don’t want to deal with our own inner restlessness, or real reasons for discontent with our worshipping community.”
Another encouraging nod from the modern day shepherdess, her face intent and accepting. There was no judgment here, only openness to hearing the story of this soul.
“In those days I had been a confused mix of angry independence and, what’s the popular term, oh yes, co-dependence. I wanted a pastor and a church that would solve all my problems and let me pray serenely and quietly the way they do in the movies—complete with organ music in the background. Did you ever notice that, Pastor? The organ is playing twenty-four/seven in those TV and movie churches—even when no one is in them! Anyway, I now believe that one cannot find what I was so unreasonably searching for anywhere, and that the truest form of prayer is to express what is in our heart and mind to God, sometimes with words and sometimes with gesture, and sometimes by just simply sitting quietly in the presence of God.”
The pastor was about to express her understanding verbally but Hester cut her off by rapidly continuing on. Her confession felt good and she didn’t want to break the rhythm of it. I’m on a roll here; don’t interrupt me.
“I decided, in dishonesty to myself, that I needed much more ‘grounding,’ so I started going to the Traditionalist Catholic Church. It is a group, as you may know Pastor, that lives thinks, and worships in the style of the Roman Catholic Church prior to the Vatican Council II, which evoked so many changes in the Catholic Church. Liturgy in the vernacular would probably be the most obvious change, followed by a wide variety of ministries which opened up to laypeople. Be that as it may, eventually I was hired by the Traditionalists to serve as secretary. They are good people but, no matter what spiritual path we follow, it has to be followed in freedom and not in fear. I was in that church out of fear and neediness and I understand and admit that now. I was insecure and blamed others so that I would not have to work on my own inner growth. I’ll bet that type of blaming happens to a lot of pastors.”
Pastor Kathryn responded ever so softly without so much as even hinting at the twinge of pain the accuracy of Hester’s insight triggered within her, “You seem to be very much in touch with who you are, and where you are at this time in your life. I just want to sit back and reverence what the Holy Spirit is doing in you right now. Please continue, Hester.”
“My prayer and meditation with the Gospel suggests very strongly to me that Jesus came to set us all free. The freedom he invites us to is deep inside and it manifests itself in the Shalom he so often invites us to in the four Gospel accounts. It’s a freedom that is available to all of us and is not dependant upon peaceful outer circumstances or heavenly organ music, though both of those things can be very nice.
“Hiding from the truth of who we are, and our real motivation for our choices, goes against the very call of the Gospel. Many people see the spiritual life as something gloomy and filled with rules, regulations, and things that we’re not allowed to do. It really is quite the opposite. After one of the priests was murdered at the Traditionalist Catholic Church last summer, I needed to rethink things. It appeared that taking refuge in another church did not keep human frailty or insecurity at bay in the least. Only Jesus can do that for me and I am called to cooperate freely with that process in simplicity and in truth.”
“Hester, I am honored at the way in which you are sharing your soul with me. God is obviously very powerfully at work within you. Are you comfortable continuing on?”
“Very comfortable, thanks to the illumination and courage given me by the Holy Spirit, along with your pastoral skills, Pastor Kathryn.
“I am presently living a form of monastic life ‘in the world.’ I don’t want to enter a monastery or become a Lutheran deaconess. The monks and nuns at the Salesian Monastery here in Brodheadsville have been a source of enormous comfort and support for me. Their spirit is much like yours—I am sure that all of it is a reflection of the Spirit of God. I make little retreats there from time to time and often celebrate the Liturgy of the Hours with them. Much like Jesus would do, they force nothing on me. One of them did tell me to try to ‘shut up’ one time, and just listen when I pray. Another time he suggested that I ‘lighten up.’ He said those things with such gentle strength and humor that it was easy to take his advice to heart, and I have found it to be most helpful. That is just what I’m doing, Pastor. I’m evolving from ‘Miss not MS’ Von Kiel, to a much happier ‘Hester.’ What I need to know now is the status of my connection to Salem Lutheran Church. Have I strayed too far, or am I still welcome here if I choose to return to the congregation?”
The pastor couldn’t help herself. Even though Miss Von Kiel had lightened up and turned into Hester, she still looked a tad like Barbie’s grandmother. The pillbox hat she wore seemed to be surgically implanted into her hairdo. It appears her sense of fashion stopped somewhere in the Jackie Kennedy era. Humor is healthy and it helps me to cope. It is a real pastoral tool—and it’s fun too!