Pastor as Poet Needs Time for Reflection

Since returning from my Sabbatical there has been an increasing restlessness and dis-ease in my soul. I returned to work with renewed energy. I was well rested; my mind and my spirit were rejuvenated. My stress level was greatly lowered and my ability to cope with stress without unhealthy reactions was improved.

However, as I move further along in my work as pastor, I find it difficult to keep my attention and my energy focused. Initially I attributed this to the difficulty of returning to work routine after four months away from that routine. But it has been three-plus months back at the routine (almost as long as the entire sabbatical had been) and those difficulties persist, instead of lessening.

Today I read an article on the Christian Century web-site which struck a chord deep within and perhaps begins to help me identify something of what may be going on. The article is excerpted from M. Craig Barnes's book The Pastor as Minor Poet, published by Eerdmans. Barnes teaches at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and he presents another way of viewing the role and work of the local church pastor: as a poet. He is not advocating for us to write verse, but rather describing our calling with the analogy. Here is a brief excerpt from the article.

In contrast to the biblical and theological poets, the pastoral poet has the unique calling of making sense of their words in light of the dust and grit of daily life in a parish. And unlike those whom society has traditionally revered as poets, whose vision of the deeper reality is nurtured through quiet sanctuary, if not isolation, the pastor-poet lives with a crowded and noisy soul. Central to what it means to be ordained is to open the doors of one's soul to the complexities, pathos, longings and even sins of those the pastor has vowed to serve.

At the same time, the pastor is even more attentive to the unapparent presence of God among the people of the congregation. One of the reasons that people need pastors is precisely that God is always present but usually not apparent. It takes a poet to find that presence beneath the layers of strategy for coping with the feeling of its absence. Thus, the parish minister's soul becomes a crucible in which sacred visions are ground together with the common and at times profane experiences of human life. Out of this sacred mix, pastors find their deep poetry, not only for the pulpit but also for making eternal sense out of the ordinary routines of the congregation.

Pastors' days are filled with committee meetings that never end and accomplish little; confirmation classes with kids who can't be cool unless they look bored; races across town to make a hospital call, only to discover that the patient was just discharged (You're not getting credit for this one); counseling sessions with people who don't like their jobs but can't afford to quit them because they need them to afford lifestyles they don't really like either; funerals where they fight back their tears long enough to lead worship; weddings where they fight back aggressive photographers; conflicts with people who just won't leave the church; and the relentless return of Sundays that demand another profound sermon. And through it all, the attentive pastor is constantly spinning the poetry, helping the congregation to see the sacred subtext of their lives.

As poets, pastors are always looking for a portal that invites passage into a deeper, more mysterious—and thus true—understanding of what is seen. …

What if, instead of working so hard at omnicompetence, pastors were free to work hard simply at being better poets? And is it possible that the call to parish ministry can come not at the expense of our souls, but at their delight—the joy known only by those who can behold mystery and truth at work just beneath the surface of all the belief and all the reality of parish life?

One of the things learned on my sabbatical was the importance for me, as pastor, to have time to reflect on life, on the world, on the church. Without realizing it, I tapped into the importance of the pastor as poet, who “is always looking for a portal that invites passage into a deeper, more mysterious – and thus true – understanding of what is seen.” But to nurture that role, we need time. And the modern pastoral schedule does not allow for that sort of reflective, meditative, time. I am usually lucky to find a few minutes a day for quiet prayer! (Actually, I have been very good about maintaining the discipline of my daily four mile walk to the bay which provides me about 80 minutes of solitude and quiet time for prayer and meditation as I walk. It may also be part of the time necessary for me to use for poetic reflection.)

It is not easy to reclaim one’s schedule in order to direct it more for “poetic reflection” than for “technocratic managerial” tasks. Everything in our culture entices us and draws us toward “omnicompetence” and a technician mentality that approaches life as a problem for which we just need to identify the right solution, the right formula to correct and improve it, the right script.

The attitude and view of the poet, however, is an embracing of life to fully drink it in, fully absorb it, and then begin to understand the deeper meanings above, below, and within. Life is not a problem to be corrected, but a wonderful ride, or marvelous adventure, to be experienced fully through complete and total immersion. The poet does not shy away from pain, or try to mask or cover-up the sorrow and suffering, but embraces these experiences, too, as fully part of what it means to be alive.

Perhaps my restlessness arises from a need deep in my soul for this sort of exploration and embracing of life. While on sabbatical I uncovered once again my love for writing, especially free-flowing, reflective writing, and I discovered how nurturing this practice is for my soul. Since I have been back to work it has been difficult to find the time to spend at my computer, or with my journal, pen in hand, and just write freely about … anything… and everything. Whether my schedule and responsibilities allow for me to fully do so or not, clearly I need to consciously commit to nurturing my poet!