The Monkey Off My Back

I've had a monkey on my back. Or rather, on my bookshelf.

Long story short, there was a moment sometime last year, that I was involved in a lively discussion concerning the polity of the church and how ineffective our church structures can be when polity is not consistently adhered to or, at worst, ignored. My colleague and I were lamenting the damage that can be done when either clergy or congregations (or both) are not brought to bear for patterns of behaviour that are not life-giving or life-affirming for everyone involved. 

Within the United Church of Canada, there is a Remit that has been submitted to congregations and presbyteries for consideration. The Remit involves the creation of an Office of Vocation for ministry—which, in simplistic and general terms (do NOT quote me or believe that this is the totality of the Remit – I’m only trying to explain the context of the lively discussion), would result in the creation of a denominational disciplinary body should the Remit pass. The creation of such a body would remove the local relationships from the often complicated and emotionally-charged inquiries that are made when the effectiveness of a minister is under review or if a congregation seems to have a toxic or dysfunctional nature, impeding the ministry of their called clergy. A denominational body would allow for people, who are more removed from the immediate goings on in the presbytery, the congregation and the minister’s life, which would, hopefully, allow for open and transparent reviews to take place.

Anyway, the conversation ended and we went on with our separate days. Until the next Presbytery meeting when my colleague approached me and handed me John Updike’s book, In the Beauty of the Lilies.

I should read it.

There is an interesting bit about removing oneself from ministry.

Pages were marked.

There were stickies with notes.

I tried reading it.

Really, I did.

Have YOU ever read John Updike?

Not bedtime reading for sure.

So, a year later—after it has sat on my shelf at home, near my bed, mocking me because I only made it 8 pages before I gave up—I added it to my To-Read pile for this 52in52 Book Challenge of 2017. About three weeks into the Challenge, I realized the grave error of adding this book (along with four or five others) to the pile. These certain book choices involve too much reading for a week. Especially if I still have to:

• write a sermon
• go on pastoral visits
• be at a committee meeting or two
• pray
• lead a bible/book session
• prepare worship services.

You know. My job. Ministry.

So, I made a plan to read this difficult novel that was not my choice to read. Ten pages at a time, over time. I even made a little check list. I began considering what my reward for each 100 pages would be.

But then, this week happened. I was compelled to pack for a quick, short get-away trip that was a bit of surprise planned by my Beloved. I knew I was leaving but I didn’t know where. I didn’t know how much down time there was involved so I took a few options for reading. As a lark, I threw this novel into my luggage. Turns out we had a bit of down time and plenty of airplane time. So, I pulled out John Updike and tried again.

I know my colleague and more than a few of you (my Beloved included) will shake your heads and say, ‘for pete’s sake, you DON’T have to read it. It was only a suggestion.’

But, to be honest, there was one line, near the front of the novel (obviously cause I only made it 8 pages on my first go around), that had caught my attention and made me want to see what happened. The line was this:

…the Reverend Clarence Arthur Wilmot, down in the parsonage of the Fourth Presbyterian Church at the corner of Straight Street and Broadway, felt the last particles of this faith leave him. The sensation was distinct—a visceral surrender, a set of dark sparkling bubbles escaping upward. (5)

The novel goes on to detail how Clarence tried to remove himself from ministry—and this is what my colleague thought I would find interesting—and the difficulty, in the early 1900s, of placing oneself on the Discontinued Service List (our modern UCC language).

“Calvin would say ‘it would be a very serious accusation against us to have rejected God’s call.'...[But]…once the presbytery be satisfied that he cannot be useful and happy, in the exercise of his ministry, they may allow him to demit the office and return to the condition of a private member in the Church. (73)

The reason Clarence feels called out of ministry is due to the rise of scientific knowledge and rational thought that did not permit an all-powerful and all-knowing God to exist. The moderator of Clarence’s presbytery urges him to allow his mind to expand to include the new understandings of the universe. The moderator blames the theological education Clarence received, stating,

“You imbibed conservatism there, and it limits your thinking now…[theology] quite helpless when the winds of history blow.”...The moderator goes onto to say that modern theologians are “taught not to be afraid of science, not to fear admitting that the Holy Book is embedded in history—that it contains the best wisdom of its time, but that time is not our time.” (75) 

I love how this is written. In the United Church, newly ordained and commissioned clergy need to be in essential agreement with the Basis of Union which include 20 Articles of Faith, written in the years leading up to Union in 1925. Ministers in training do a lot of exploration of what it means to have theological statements, creeds, and articles of faith that inform us of how the people of those times understood God, the ministry of Jesus and the work of the Holy Spirit. To know the Bible as a book that is a living document, that allows, encourages and interprets current and modern understandings of the world, science and technology, means that we are adding to the history of the first Christians. We are not stuck. We need not be afraid. We have the Word of God and we can use its wisdom to go forth and continue the rich and long history of God’s people in a world filled with the knowledge of science, astrophysics, evolution and quantum theory.

PS. The rest of the book was okay. Updike uses a LOT of words to describes situations, scenarios and events that I had little patience with. After learning about Clarence, we hear from his son, then the son’s daughter and, finally, from her son. No one is really happy in their life and there is an existential angst that is threaded through each of the characters that was not very uplifting. With apologies to any Updike fans, this is not on my ‘read again someday’ list. I’ll be glad to hand it back to my colleague at next month’s Presbytery meeting - the monkey is finally off my back/shelf.