A Puppy, A Pastor, And A President

Given what lies ahead for our next President, it was something of a relief that the Obama family shared a lighter moment with us that involved reconciling conflicting ideas about the next canine occupant of the White House. I loved the way the President-elect summed up the dilemma: finding a mutt who won't bring about allergic reactions. It got me to thinking about another dilemma facing the next First Family: selecting their next pastor.

Whatever one may think of the Obamas' former pastor and of their too lengthy association with him, removing oneself from the caring environment of a formerly trusted community of faith is a wrenching experience that is only made worse by not finding a new church home within a reasonable period of time. I cannot imagine how hard it must have been for this family to face a decision like this in the midst of the most upending period of their lives. It might have been made a little easier by the pastor himself. From my vantage point, he disregarded rather flagrantly the aspiring family's well being in pursuing his own prophetic agenda at the expense of taking a more pastoral role in the situation in which he and his church suddenly found themselves. In a sense, Barack Obama did not leave his church; his church and their pastor left him. Even so, the Obamas' decision, both necessary and right, left them without a church home and, until recently at least, without either the time or the opportunity to search for one.

One hope that I continue to harbor from the Jeremiah Wright controversy is that religious people all across the land can see in it an opportunity to do some serious thinking about both the agonizing challenges and soaring possibilities that surround the ministry of every truly faithful and effective pastor, priest, rabbi, and imam today. For openers, we need to reflect deeply on the awesome scope of pastoral responsibility itself. Pastors are servants of God's message, God's people, and God's kingdom together, not of one to the exclusion of the other.

At any given moment, it may seem that fulfilling any one of these responsibilities requires setting aside the other or others. Illustration: one clergyperson happens upon the scene of a traffic accident and finds himself cradling a drunken driver who has just wiped out a whole family by running a red light, and who is desperately crying out for him to pray for his soul. Or: another discovers that key leaders of her church's soup kitchen ministry are members of the local KKK. Or: still another struggles with pressures from the congregation and the community to give the pulpit over to politicians at election time.

Another thing worth reflecting on is how leaders of congregations, in witnessing faithfully to God's work in the world, can ensure that irritated reactions will not elevate to some combination of panic, rage, and withdrawal. The Bible speaks often of those who are shepherds of others' souls bearing an awesome responsibility to comfort as well as afflict people. As far as I can make out, the balm of Gilead was never intended to be only an allergen. Hopefully, the Obamas' next pastor will be as free of the latter as their new puppy will be.

Wondering and worrying about the Obamas' ecclesial uprootedness lately, I have let my thoughts drift back to Jeremiah Wright's frighteningly effective but otherwise preposterous posturing across many years in dangerously charged political atmospheres. And to similarly odious experiences listening to other princes of the pulpit pound the fear of everlasting damnation into people, while still others sweetly seduce their enraptured constituency to pony up just a little more for the Lord and rest assured of prosperity as their fitting reward. Guys and now gals like these do tend to capture and hold peoples' interest. But ministers are not supposed to be entertainers, and by the world's standards the salvation process can even border on the boring. Get up early, say a few words of thanksgiving to God, help the neighbors, say a few more words of thanks, find some more neighbors who need help, say even more words of thanks, turn the light out, and drop off to sleep eager to begin the process all over again. If the President-elect and his family succeed in finding a bunch of people like this to be around, they can count themselves richly blessed.

I have an idea about what the pastor of such an undistinguished congregation might look like: "no beauty, no majesty to catch our eyes, no grace to attract us to him." (Isaiah 53:2) Pretty much of a mutt, actually. Good hunting, dear ones.