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In the United Church of Christ, part of preparation for ordained ministry
is something called Clinical Pastoral Education. Some seminaries -- like Chicago Theological
Seminary, the one I attended -- also require it.
Clinical Pastoral Education -- or CPE to reduce the syllable count by seven --
offers an opportunity for supervised practical experience in offering pastoral care.
CPE programs vary, but many are set in hospitals. At mine, we had six students in our group,
though one had to drop out early for personal reasons.
The five of us who remained took shifts covering the hospital as chaplains
overnight and on weekends. Weeknight shifts ran from 5PM to 7AM; weekend
shifts were 8:30AM to 5PM and 5PM to 8:30AM. Weekdays were covered by
paid chaplains.
Of course, most people work during the day, so many of the families who came to visit
would meet the CPE students as chaplains. And because we took turns covering the shifts,
it was common for the family of a patient to meet many of us.
Often, members of the family would take a liking to one chaplain or another.
This sometimes led to contention within the family as to which was "their" chaplain: was
it the first to visit the patient? Was it the first to meet a member of the family?
Was it the first to meet the person who had health care power of attorney?
Was it the chaplain we liked best, or who spent the most time with the patient,
or spent the most time with the family?
I can't count the number of times I was asked to step out
while a family loudly argued over who was the chaplain they counted as "theirs."
Well, actually, I can.
It was zero.
Because that never
happened.
I'm not saying the families didn't get into arguments:
I remember one that struggled over who should be the one
with health care power of attorney. But they didn't argue about the chaplains.
Sure, sometimes someone would tell one of us "I really liked that Steve"
or "Judy was a real blessing to me." But they didn't fight over us, because they
were not at the hospital for us. They were there for the patient, their loved
one.
I saw some difficult situations in CPE. I met people who suddenly took a turn for
the worse and passed away, leaving the unprepared family bewildered and
grieving. I met people who had decided to end life-sustaining
treatment for a loved one who would not recover,
only to be guilted by family into rescinding that order.
I met people who blamed themselves for the illnesses of those they loved,
and people angry at those who had injured them.
I met people angry at doctors, at nurses, and at God.
But they didn't argue about the chaplains.
Our cohort consisted of a Catholic brother, a retiring pastor of the Christian and Missionary
Alliance, a Baptist church planter,
a Presbyterian seminary graduate, and me.
And though the hospital was run as a joint venture
of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America and the United Church of Christ,
most of the patients were Catholic. Not very many were UCC:
in fact, I met at least as many secular humanist and/or atheist patients
as those who belonged to UCC.
And you might think that the faith tradition of the chaplain
made a huge different to the patients, but you'd be wrong if you did.
Sure, the Catholic patients and families wanted a priest
for sacraments (and we would call a priest for them),
but mostly they were happy to have someone there.
We cared for patients and families who were Catholic, Lutheran, Methodist, Presbyterian,
Evangelical, Baptist, Hindu, Muslim, Jewish, and yes, atheist.
It makes me think of a saying that is attributed to John Wesley
and to Augustine of Hippo, but was actually written in the seventeenth
century by an orthodox Lutheran named Rupertus Meldenius:
"IN necesariis Unitatem, IN non-necessariis Libertatem, IN UTRISQUE Charitatem"1
In English: unity in essentials,
liberty in non-essentials, and charity in both.
In what was essential, we -- the chaplains, the staff, and the family -- were united:
caring for the patient and those who loved the patient.
We hoped. We comforted.
We listened. We were present.
We grieved.
In what was non-essential -- in the context of the hospital, at least -- we had liberty.
I wasn't trying to convert people to Christianity, much less get them to join the UCC.
We didn't quibble about how communion worked, or how prayer worked,
or even whether there was a god.
But in both places, charity -- or grace, or love.
Because when we are working together for one good, the love we share
and the grace we have for one another is crucial. And when we disagree about things that aren't
really the main issue, love and grace can help bridge those divides.
There's been no small amount of division in the Christian church:
the divisions over the nature of Christ in the fifth century;
the schism between the Roman and Eastern Orthodox churches in the eleventh century, in part
over the supremacy of the Pope and over whether the Holy Spirit proceeds
from the Father or from the Father and from the Son;
the reformation of the fifteenth century over the authority of the Pope (again),
the selling of indulgences, and other differences.
Since then, there has been tremendous growth in the number of denominations
as they split again and again over what should be taught
and how worship should proceed.
And yet, the United Church of Christ is working against a two thousand year trend. Joining
the German Evangelical, German Reformed, Congregational, and New Light Christian churches, the UCC
seeks to be a united and uniting church.
It's not easy.
Churches have left the denomination over votes taken at General Synod.
There are some divisions about the sinfulness or sanctity
of gay and lesbian relationships. We struggle with the amount of authority that
should be centered in Cleveland versus the conferences, associations, and
local churches.
But in essentials, we're united. And the most essential of these is Christ.
Even naming ourselves followers of Christ is not simple.
We disagree on what that even means. Does it mean we have a personal relationship
with our Lord and Savior? Does it mean we are washed in the blood of
the lamb? Does it mean we follow the teachings of Jesus
and, if so, how do we understand those teachings?
For me, it comes down to what is essential.
I've sometimes called myself a small u unitarian --
that is, one who believes that most -- if not all -- of the great faiths are rooted
in one truth. But my language of faith is very Christian,
and so I fit better in a Christian denomination than in others.
So, for me, Christ is important. And what we have in the Gospels --
although interpreted differently by each person --
is the story of Christ. Through the Gospels, we know Jesus' disciples,
his teachings, and his healing.
And I think this is what's frustrating Paul, as he describes in his letter to the Corinthians:
that the divisions among the people are taking the focus away from Christ:
they're getting bogged down in non-essentials, and it's keeping them from being united in
what is essential.
So what about Hope? We've seen some changes over the years.
We've had four pastors. These last three months we've had three women
filling in, doing pulpit supply. We'll have a new interim next week.
And, shortly, we will be having our annual meeting.
What's essential? We are a progressive Christian voice.
We're rooted in the United Church of Christ. We are joyfully and unapologetically Christian.
We work to express our love as Jesus taught: by loving God, neighbor, and self.
Progressive. Love.
Joyfully, and unapologetically,
Christian.
If, in these principles, we can find unity; and if, in other things, we can offer liberty;
and if, in all things, we can offer love and grace;
then in the words of Rupertus Meldenius, "our affairs will be in the best position."2
So my assignment for you, and for me, today and through the week,
comes from our reading today: Now I appeal to you, brothers and sisters,
by the name of Jesus Christ, that all of you be in agreement and that there
be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and
the same purpose.
May we continue to be Hope
United Church
of Christ. Amen.