A Better Way to Preach

When I retired from parish ministry, seven years ago now, leaving the church itself as I left my parish, I wondered if the skills associated with my ministry would morph into something useful out in the world. I wondered how my "gifts," my particular charisms, might show up when I wasn't paid to use them while wearing robes and a clergy collar.

I loved preaching, for instance. It made me gather my thoughts, often in the form of questions, and offer them to my congregation as a catalyst for their own ruminations. I knew that it was my job to tell the community's story, that is, the Jesus story, but unlike the children who sat at my feet for the children's talk, I also knew that that didn't make 'Jesus' the answer to every question.

I loved my pastoral work. The time I spent with individuals as they struggled to find meaning and purpose in the events of their lives, this always felt like a great privilege to me. Jesus wasn't always the answer to their questions, either. But neither did I have the answer, as I accompanied them on their journey of discovery, and they, mine. We were finding our way together.

And I loved being part of a community. We were often a messy bunch. You can't open your doors to the walkng wounded without people coming in and splashing some of their pain around. But if our calling is to love the neighbour, as we ourselves are loved, then what a great experiment in divine healing! We were learning to love one another, sometimes having to dig deep to find that love already residing within us.

What has happened, over time, is that I have replicated all these facets of my ministry out here in the regular world. It wasn't conscious and it wasn't intentional. It just happened, as if I'd have been doing these things all along anyway, whether or not I'd been part of the church. This was reassuring. It meant that I was ordained because of the gifts the church already saw in me, not because the priesthood would give me a public persona, a mask I could wear instead of developing my own unique presence in the world. This happy coalescence, of who I was and what the role required of me, is probably why I liked my job as much as I did.

My preaching has now been replaced by my writing and by my podcast. In my books and in my recorded conversations I can still formulate my questions and follow my curiosity as I invite fellow seekers to come along, as is happening right here, right now, with you.

While I'm not sure it's "pastoral," and I'm quite sure it's not "work," I meet a wide range of friends for coffee or for lunch, where we share the stories of our lives with one another, no one presuming to tell the other what to do. Instead, we marvel together at how life so often has a way of calling us forward, even through the dark and difficult times.

Around these activities, a new network of friends and fellow travellers has formed, meaning that, while we rarely all gather in the same place at the same time, we are a kind of far-flung, loose-knit virtual community. We care about one another, as family members do, learning the ways of love as we continue to grow within each other's good company. Jesus would be so pleased.

This shift, from the church world to the regular world, has been especially evident in my writing. Talking to Trees: A Journey into Soul, which was published last year around this time, was in truth more of a memoir than the random collection of personal essays it purported to be. I was chronicling not just the new experiences I was having "on the far side of conventional religion," but also the difficulties I was having, leaving behind the old to make room for the new.

My new book, Communing with the Dead ... And Other Tales From the Imaginal Realms, which will come out next year, sees hardly a mention of the church, except by way of setting a scene or establishing a context. The freedom I feel these days, to explore this new terrain, and all its strange realms we can see only by way of our peripheral vision, this remains palpable, and quite a lot of fun.

As both the podcast and the blog wrap up for another season (this being the sixth season for the podcast), I'll leave you with a recording of one of the chapters around which Talking to Trees revolves, "The Oracle," where Fate chose to intervene to confirm my growing suspicion that I would end up leaving the church. Apparently, I may not have done so on my own, without a push.

And forgive me reminding you that, if you're looking for some good summertime reading, Talking to Trees is still available--as a hold-in-your-hand paperback or hard cover book, as a convenient ebook, and as an engaging audio book. Visit the page here on my website dedicated to the book, for more information.

To listen to "The Oracle," from the audio book recording of Talking to Trees, just click on the Play button, below. And while you're at it, feel free to roam through all the past blogs and podcast episodes. There are over two hundred and twenty-five blogs and over one hundred and seventy podcasts now, with the overall number of podcast downloads approaching 50,000! You are in good company.