The term "dirty work" conjures images for each of us. Waste collection. Undertaking. Sewage treatment. Trafficking. Assassins. Essentially it is any task or activity that is viewed as unpleasant or dishonest and given to someone else to do. We all have different ideas of what that phrase entails. The common goal of any dirty work is to clean things up. We attempt to leave things better than we found them when no one else will.
For this reason I will put pastor at the top of my list of dirty jobs. Pastoring is exactly that. An unpleasant task we expect someone else to do. I think we have lost sight of what it means to pastor in our prosperity centric mainstream westernized churches. And we are spreading our notions like cancer throughout the body. Ministry positions are seen as glamorous and luxurious, roles of status and prestige. Be a pastor. Commandeer a mega-church. Gather thousands to line your coffers, buy you homes, and fuel the most magnificent pyramid scheme ever devised. I am here to tell you that nothing could be further from the truth.
The word "pastor" comes from the latin verb pascere and means "to lead to pasture." It is the word for "shepherd." In Greek it is the word ποιμήν (poimen) also meaning shepherd. It is one who serves the flock, tending to their needs for care. It is a person who will do whatever it takes to keep each member of the flock in good health and standing. It is a person who will sacrifice their own comfort for the safety of others. A shepherd must be willing to descend into the muddy ditches of reality, away from the pulpits and pedestals of Sunday morning. A shepherd lives daily in the fields with their flock. A shepherd is dirty work.
The prophet Ezekiel had strong words against irresponsible shepherds. "Woe to the shepherds of Israel who feed themselves? Should not the shepherds feed the flocks? You eat the fat and clothe yourselves with the wool; you slaughter the fatlings, but you do not feed the flock. The weak you have not strengthened, nor have you healed those who were sick, nor bound up the broken, nor brought back what was driven away, nor sought what was lost; but with force and cruelty you have ruled them." Eze 34:2-4
While living in Denver I volunteered weekly at a food bank for the homeless and financially disadvantaged. I met face to face every week with suffering of some sort. That work taught me more about the beauty and complexity of humanity than any other job ever has. This year I once again found a food pantry to serve and my heart is broken daily with the magnitude of suffering many of us willfully ignore.
Most people do not have time to be bothered with feeding or clothing the poor. We have better things to do. Are there not government programs to do all that dirty work for us? Can we not pay someone to do the deed? Pain and suffering make us uncomfortable. What could we possibly have in common with them? I am so clean. They are so dirty.
Several years ago I participated in a mentoring program that asked me to identify certain character issues in which I desired to see growth. I recall one of those being compassion. I felt my skills for sympathy and empathy were sorely underdeveloped. On most occasions, when confronted with suffering or pain, I would awkwardly focus elsewhere and thank my lucky stars it was them and not me. Then I would praise God for how blessed I was. Ah, what a life of luxury. I am so comfortable. I am so blessed. God must love me so much.
But what is that really saying? I will tell you how others hear it - those who are suffering.
If I suffer, it is my fault.
I have done something wrong.
God is displeased with me.
He is trying to teach me a lesson.
I am worthless.
I have nothing to offer.
I am a drain on society.
I am a drain on others.
They mistreat me when I ask for help.
They make me feel dirty.
Is there a magic formula that will make God love me more?
If I had more resources would people be friendlier? Would I have more friends?
I will never be one of them.
Eventually they grow bitter. They begin to resent everyone and everything. Every advantage of those around them glares at and mocks them. The prosperous hand them food with their perfectly manicured nails ($60), coiffed hair, vibrant highlights ($140), and purposely ripped designer jeans ($200). The impoverished want to reach out and take the $2.00 meal, but they find it difficult to do so without the intrusion of bile rising to choke them. The do-gooders drive off in their air conditioned vehicle, patting themselves on the back for a job well done.
Queries of indignation and confusion arise.
Did they even bother to ask me a question? Find out about my situation? Learn the sequence of events that led to destitution? No. I was just a face. A feel good for an empty heart. An opportunity to once again walk away thanking God for all the blessings bestowed. Did anyone bother to sit down and walk me through a step by step process for how to get myself into a better place? Most likely not.
We are insensitive. I was insensitive. Now I seem to feel everything. And it is painful. Helping no longer makes me feel good about myself. It makes me hurt. The phrase "give until it hurts" has an all different meaning to me. Most of us will never know what that means. We think the phrase refers to some sort of impact on our wallet. Money has nothing to do with it. To give until it hurts means to give of yourself, your person, your time, your emotion, until you are physically pained by the plight of others. Until your heart aches in your chest.
That is what it means to be a pastor. To be a shepherd. It is to be willing to do the dirty work. To get out of your fancy clothes, off your pedestal, out from behind your pulpit, and roam the fields with your sheep daily. To see to their needs, feed them, clothe them, bind their wounds, sit in their grief, hold them, comfort them, and love them. Until it hurts.
