Musings on faith and life from an Alaska Lutheran pastor.

Tuesday, March 06, 2012

Book Review: Eugene Peterson on pastors, work and butcher shops


There are probably more glamorous and professional ways to write a book review. But since I'm on a sabbatical journey of vocational and self reflection, I'll do it from a more personal point of view.

I actually read The Pastor, a memoir by Eugene Peterson in January, but didn't get a chance to post about it before we left for New Zealand. I thought about many of the themes of the book while I traveled, though.

Church nerds may recognize Peterson from his "Message" paraphrase version of the Bible. I like the Message, though I recognize it's more a paraphrase than translation. Peterson's paraphrase so often makes Jesus into the radically welcoming and status-quo wrecking figure that the gospel authors likely intended. Check out this excerpt from John 2 for a sample.

Before he was a Bible paraphraser, Peterson was a pastor. He started a congregation in suburban Maryland and stayed there for almost 30 years. He did stints teaching at universities before writing The Message. Though he was a teacher and scholar, Peterson's memoir suggests at his heart his deepest vocation was to be a pastor. He traces his growing-up years and the ways he learned about the faith and gradually grew into his vocation. Peterson talks about his time and transitions from parish ministry to academia to writing. He tells funny stories, touching stories and personal stories about his family and internal life.

Peterson puts his finger right on the heart of one of my sabbatical themes: the Biblical world is a world of story. Being a pastor (and a Christian!) is about listening to stories, sharing them and seeing how they fit in the larger Biblical narrative. Peterson tells stories from his youth and how they fit into the Biblical world, like how he got a new apron every year to work in his father's butcher shop. He recalled how the boy Samuel went to work in the temple (where there was lots of animal killing) and got a new linen ephod (robe) to wear every year. Peterson saw the holy in the midst of the meat market.

About storytelling, Peterson writes: "Americans are not used to taking stories seriously as a way to deepen our participation in the communities where we live and as a way to expand our participation in what God is doing." Yes. Amen.

Speaking of stories, when Peterson asked a pastor-mentor how to prepare to preach a sermon every week, that pastor said that for two hours every Tuesday and Thursday morning, he walked through the church's neighborhood and made home visits. The peoples' stories became embedded in his mind and heart. The better he knew his people, the better he proclaimed a word of hope and light to them. I took notes.

It's obvious that Peterson loved being a pastor. But he got tired too. He had doubts. He wondered how to connect his work on Sunday with what he did the rest of the week. He was conscious of tending to his marriage. He took long walks in silence with his wife every Monday, and then they prayed and talked on their way back. He worried about the life of a pastor taking its toll.

Peterson told a story about an agnostic friend who was an artist. When Peterson was in seminary, the friend, Willi, painted a portrait of Peterson. In the portrait, Peterson was wearing a black robe, his face gaunt and grim. His eyes were dull, his complexion sallow. His friend said that would be Peterson's future if he stayed with the church. "The church will suck the soul of of you." Will said. "Please don't be a pastor." Well, Peterson did and apparently he never looked so bad as the portrait. But he kept the artwork, as a reminder to keep the sabbath and to keep his focus on vocation instead of job and success.

Speaking of vocation, Peterson discussed the vocation of laity, too. He talked about a time when he realized he was overworking and not tending to his family. Peterson said he wasn't able to fully listen to people because he was always thinking of the next thing. His spiritual life was nearly non-existent. He said he wanted to be an "unbusy pastor" and I think I'd like that, too. He said he wanted to be a pastor who:

* prays and relaxes in the presence of God
* reads and studies
* has time with parishioners in leisurely, unhurried conversations
* leads the church in worship, preaches accessible sermons, gives language and imagination to be a Christian in the world

When Peterson went to his lay leaders to say he was burning out, they asked him why he couldn't do what he listed above. He said he was too busy running the church. The lay leaders said they would do it. They excused him from most committee and planning meetings. He said this continued for the remainder of his call. He said they did a great job, better than he could have done. He said that when he let them help out in his workplace, he was free to pay more attention to them in their workplaces. He was a better pastor, and they were empowered that they weren't "just" laypeople. They were living out their calls in myriad ways.

Here's an excerpt Peterson wrote on the topic of work. If I learn nothing else from sabbatical, I wish to know this, and that folks at Central would know it too:

"Most of what Jesus said and did took place in a secular workplace: in a farmer's field, in a fishing boat, a wedding feast, in a cemetery, at a public well asking woman he didn't know for a drink of water, on a country hillside that turned into a huge picnic, a court room, having supper in homes with acquaintances or friends. In our Gospels, Jesus occasionally shows up in a synagogue or temple, but for the most part he spends his time in the workplace. Twenty-seven times in John's Gospel, Jesus is identified as a worker: 'My father is still working, and I also am working' (Jn. 5:17). Work doesn't take us away from God; it continues the work of God. God comes into view on the first page of our scriptures as a worker. Once we identify God in his workplace working, it isn't long before we find ourselves in our workplaces working in the name of God."

We all have our work to do, for God's sake.

I enjoyed Peterson's memoir. His transparent story was touching and inspiring. I felt I was journeying with him. I thought a lot about my own journey, vocation and call. There are a lot of things to do as a pastor. Toward the end of the book, Peterson talks about one of the most important things that pastors can do. We can be the one person in the community who is free to take men and women seriously, just as they are. We can appreciate them, and see them as a God-created being, with a dignity that comes from being created in the image of God. Amen.

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