In church work it is often called, “pastoral care.” It refers, in part, to connecting with people and seeking to discern what might be weighing them down emotionally, mentally, spiritually. Pastoral care entails a connection with the humanity of another person. Though I have been a Christian minister for decades, I have always thought of the word “pastoral” as having more to do with peace than with some role of clergy.
So, I offer you a word of pastoral care today in case you are reeling from the state of the world right now, most recently in regards to the violence and sorrow in the Middle East.
If you have read or watched any news on what is happening in Israel and the Gaza Strip, you have likely experienced some kind of heightened emotion. What is happening is sad and terrible and horrifying. Even many miles away, we can see a tendency to entrench into sides; the lines of war can become bolstered in such ways.
There is sorrow and anger to be felt over the horrifying violence. There is also a kind of sorrow over what happens in the shadow of such violence. People, understandably, can become entrenched in their ideologies and religions. Hopeful faith aims to reach past ideology and past religious structures to humanity. That would mean that we stretch emotionally and spiritually to recognize the humanity of everyone, even those who seem to not recognize their own humanity or that of others.
Politically, you may find that you identify most with the sorrows brought about by occupation and repression. That is, you may identify with what have been the causes of the political and ideological left in this struggle. It is true that people should be free and that, even if we have been oppressed, we are not immune from becoming oppressors.
Or, you may find that you identify most with a group of people in this conflict who have historically been oppressed, even to the point of facing multiple attempts at genocide and consistent, ongoing discrimination, including outright violence. You may find that you balk at the apparent unwillingness on the part of some others to admit the inhuman violence and terror that was perpetrated last weekend.
Wherever you find you land, ideologically, it should be a sorrow to you to see how BOTH sides have suffered and to see how much suffering is happening now. The refusal to let ideology blind you to humanity will cause more sorrow, not less. We cannot avoid such sorrow but through it there is sometimes healing. You might find yourself in tears at the story of family killed in Israel and then moments later at an image of a child killed in Gaza. The pastoral word is to remain open to such sorrow. It is a lot, but it demonstrates your humanity and in it there is hope.
Where I land, in reeling and in prayer, is to hold on to a couple of beatitudes over all of the fear, darkness and destruction;
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” The fruit of sorrow is mourning and mourning precludes comfort. We mourn over suffering on both sides.
and
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” I don’t even know what peace looks like in such horrible circumstances. It can seem naive or worse to suggest it right now. The hope for peace remains, however, and it is a comfort indeed that God’s identity, in this beatitude, is associated with those who make peace.
May you know light and hope, even now as you consider what is happening, as you cry out for the well being of others.
Thank you Todd…this is very helpful.