“Being There”

Sarah York, Assistant Minister for Pastoral Care

May 8, 2011

The U.U. Church of Asheville

Several years ago, when I was the Senior Minister in Santa Barbara, California, a stranger appeared at my door. It was a Saturday, and Saturday was the day I wrote my sermon. So that is what I was doing when I heard the doorbell. I was somewhat annoyed at being interrupted, but I went to the door and was greeted by a frail-looking elderly woman. She had difficulty speaking, so it was hard to understand anything she was trying to say. I thought maybe she had become disoriented or was lost or something. I was afraid maybe she had walked too far and was having physical problems. Why, I wondered, was this woman at my door? I invited her to come in and sit down and have something to drink. By repeating back what I thought she was trying to say and asking questions, I found out she was a neighbor. She knew her way home. There was no emergency. As far as I could figure, she just wanted someone to talk to. She knew who I was, so she picked my house.

I offered to walk or drive her home, and she chose to walk. It was a very slow walk uphill, but she managed it just fine, and it gave us more time to talk. When we got to her house, she invited me in, introduced me to her husband, and showed me photographs of her beloved granddaughter, who had been murdered several years before. She also gave me a copy of an article she had written on how it felt to grow old and to lose her ability to speak. By the time I walked home, I felt enriched by this encounter with a bright and vital woman of exceptional spirit. I also felt ashamed at the stereotypes that I had applied in first meeting her.  

That woman was one of my teachers. There have been many of them, mostly people in my congregations who taught me how to be present with myself while being present with them. From them I have learned how to live, how to get older, and, when the time comes for me to die, their strength and presence will be with me.   

“Being There” is my title today. I know, I know: there is a movie by that title starring Peter Sellers and much of it was filmed at the Biltmore Estate. I stole the title because it summarizes what I think the ministry of pastoral care is about. Being there. Being present. Being fully present with another human being.  In the last five years, it has been my privilege to build the ministry of presence in this congregation, which is my home church. I was ordained here in 1982, and this year I retire from here. I will probably be in need of pastoral care in the next decade or so, so I am glad we have such a great program. I have just trained more Pastoral Visitors, and I leave you and the new Assistant Minister, Lisa Kemper, with a wonderful team of volunteers.  

Caring for others—whether they are members of our own family, members of our congregation, or strangers who appear at our door—is the topic for today. This brochure is called “UUCA Cares: Ministering to the Needs of our Congregation”, and it describes ways you can be served by or involved in the ministry of presence here. We have a full team of Pastoral Visitors now, but we are always in need to people who will help out with practical needs on a short term basis. The blue cards in the pew racks and at the Pastoral Visitor table in Sandburg Hall have two sides. On one side, you can let us know if you have need for pastoral care; on the other you can volunteer to be part of the Caring Response Network. Notice I did not say “Committee.” No meetings. Your name goes on a list of people willing to do specific things like offer rides, cook meals, walk a dog, water plants, etc.  When a need arises, the office will send out a request. So this is my soft pitch for more volunteers. You see, I really want Lisa to start out with plenty of volunteers. These are the first people she will get to know. By the way, Lisa was in the RE program at the UU church in Rockville when I was minister there. Cool, huh? And the current minister in Rockville is Taryn Strauss’s mother. So many great connections in our UU family. 

The caring ministry belongs to all of us. The brochure doesn’t say “Sarah Cares” or “Lisa Cares,” or “Mark Cares”; it says UUCA Cares. Yes, we have our professional clergy and our trained visitors, but being there for one another is not just something done by a few people. In fact, I am guessing that most of the caring you do for one another happens without my ever knowing about it. It happens among friends, committee members, covenant groups, social outreach groups, adult education classes, RE events, affinity groups, dinner groups and more. We have our informal network of caring as well as the formal one.  

Now this is Mothers’ Day, and we all know that most of us associate mothers with nurturing, even if they weren’t very good at it. If I am sick, I may be very glad to see friends who care, but who do I want? I want my Mommy! Never mind that she has been gone from this world for 28 years now. Never mind that our relationship had its ups and downs, I still want my Mommy. When we sang that hymn, “Sleep My Child,” I got a little choked up. Why? Because there is still a child inside that is moved by that caring voice, that message of love, that assurance that I am safe. And because I want that mythical mommy to be there for every child.  

But nurturing is not just for mothers anymore. Being present with someone when they are hurting is not women’s work. I meet more and more men these days who are nurses. I am pleased to say that we have several men on our Pastoral Visitors Team, even though they are in the minority.  But we can observe that it is still women, whether they are mothers or not, who do most of the nurturing. I recall finding a greeting card once that showed a woman choosing and buying a card. Then she takes it home and has her husband sign it. Then she mails it. You open the card and it reads, “Happy Birthday from both of us.”  

Sometimes I talk to people who say they want to offer a caring presence to a friend or family member, but they are afraid. I recall speaking to a woman whose dear friend had brain cancer. She was a bundle of fears. She was afraid of seeing what brain cancer had done to her friend, who had been vibrant and brilliant. She was afraid she would not have anything to say. She was afraid she would say the wrong thing. She was afraid of being so close to death. She was afraid of her own emotions. She was afraid of her friend’s emotions. So she deprived her friend of the one thing she needed: her presence. And her friend died feeling abandoned.  

I spend a great deal of time with people who are ill or dying or in grief, and I know every one of those fears. In fact, I suspect I feel every one of them any time I visit with someone who is near death. It is never comfortable to see someone suffer. The easiest way to get past your fears, of course, is to go. Just get your inadequate self out the door and go. Go bumble your way through. Face your fears, name your fears, and go. Be there.  

There are a couple of things it might be better not say. For example, if a friend is in a crisis or someone in their family has just died, don’t say “Let me know if there is something I can do,” even though you are making a sincere offer. That is too vague. Instead, say, “Can I take the care of the children?” or “Can I make some phone calls for you?” or “Can I sit with so and so while you go for a walk or out to a movie?” Offer something specific, like dinner or your company and support while your friend goes to the funeral home. 

Another thing it is better not say is “Would you like me to come visit?” Again, that puts it on others to think in terms of their needs. They won’t want you to bother with little old unimportant them. So instead, say, “I would like to come see you; would that be all right?”  

The main thing to keep in mind is that you are offering your presence. You don’t need to know the right things to say. You don’t need to give advice and you definitely don’t have to fix someone else’s problems.  

Most of us end up regretting it if we let our fears keep us from being there. I think I have told you about a man I visited when I was a hospital chaplain in Boston. On the eve of his death, family members from Ohio were all there, telling him that they just happened to be in the neighborhood. The doctor had called me and asked me to come, but when I got there around midnight the family would not let me visit, because then he might know he was dying. The fact is he had told me several times how it saddened him that his family could not talk about what was happening to them all. His daughter ended up feeling terribly guilty about being too afraid to be present for him.  

That is an extreme case of a common fear—a fear of feelings. Nothing gets in the way of being there more than the fear of feelings.  

But there is no empathy or compassion without feeling. Compassion is “feeling with.” Your capacity for compassion is enhanced by your ability to imagine what it is like to be in another person’s skin. But you cannot assume that a person feels as you would or needs what you would need.  

Compassion is being willing to be with someone in spite of your fears. It is keeping your heart open…to yourself as well as to the other. 

There is one more thing I want to say about being there. I have been talking about being there for people in pain or crisis. Let’s get on the other side of this for a moment. Sometimes you need someone to care for you. But people can’t reach out because they don’t know you are hurting. So the burden is on you to let others know you need their support. I cannot tell you how many times I have found out that people stayed away from Sunday services or congregational activities because they were hurting. When they needed us the most, they could not come. That saddens me, and even though I respect their need to hide, I still want to say, “Don’t do that.” And when you know of people who have gone missing because they are going through bumpy times, call them. Let they know you care. Encourage them to come to their church.  

In the words of Florida Scott-Maxwell, we “never outgrow the burden of love.”That is a burden we carry because we care. It is also a burden we carry because we need others to care for us.  UUCA Cares. Yes, indeed, it does. Because you are UUCA and you care. Because we care.