Reflection on my First Year as a Pastoral Associate

 A few weeks ago I was effortlessly walking through our newly renovated church filling holy water fonts at each door. The only light was coming in from the skylight over the altar and through the glass windows behind the baptismal font. I marveled at how very peaceful and beautiful everything was and how wonderful it was to be alone in such sacred space. Suddenly, from somewhere deep inside, I found myself offering up a prayer of gratitude to God for that moment and for the gift of being able to serve Him and His people in such an active way. To be honest, the prayer of gratitude surprised me.

Just over a year ago, I started working for my parish as the pastoral associate/director of religious education. I anticipated from the outset that it would be a difficult adjustment to make, the evening meetings, the weekend hours, and the fact that many of my friends are fellow-parishioners. But even as much as I thought it would be hard, I could not have anticipated just how challenging it would be. I have almost quit a few times. I have been angry and have cried a few tears. I have been frustrated and overwhelmed.

The worst of the frustrations have mostly been with my own perceived inability to serve God’s people. Even with all the skills, experience and education I brought to the position, I felt unprepared. People want to be called by name. Remembering names is not my gift. So I have learned to be honest and admit when I cannot remember or quickly ask someone near me for a reminder. (And I have a parish directory I pull out frequently to match names and faces!) I used to think I knew what it meant to listen, but listening to someone in need who is not close to you is a completely different type of listening. They usually do not want your advice, for you to do anything or to hear your story about your similar experience – they just want to be heard. That is hard, not doing anything to help people. I had to learn that the listening part is actually the doing.

And I have learned about boundaries. This word that is tossed around in the Church whenever the word ‘minister’ is uttered has always perplexed me. I thought it sounded cold and austere. What do boundaries have to do with serving? A lot, I discovered. I now understand that having ‘boundaries’ is about being able to know when to say no and when to set your own limits. Using that two-letter word, ‘no’, is hard for many of us who want to serve. We connect that word with not caring or not helping. But after working for weeks (perhaps a couple of months, if I am honest) without a single day off, I discovered exactly why boundaries are important. I was so mentally spent, physically exhausted, and short-tempered with just about everyone that I was not doing anything well. Now I take every Friday off and have learned to say ‘no’ when asked to do something on that day (and they do ask!).

But setting boundaries also required that I realize that I do not have to do everything. That God does not want me to sacrifice my spiritual and physical self to serve, but rather to use my gifts and talents. We cannot give of ourselves freely if we feel we are being taken advantage of. So if I believe I cannot do something well, I tell myself ‘no’ and find someone who is more capable than I to do the best job.

Beyond all of these practical lessons that have been important for me to learn to manage my job, I have discovered quite a bit about the Sacramental life of the Church. With a Masters degree in Theology, I thought I knew a lot about the Sacraments. Indeed, I had a working knowledge and a theological understanding, but I had a lot to learn.

In addition to learning all the very important practical components of a Sacrament, like having the right oil, a towel for the newly baptized and the proper prayer book, I have experienced the truth of the presence of the Spirit at every Sacrament. Each time I see a father and a mother exchange the exact same expression of joy mixed with hope as they look upon their newly baptized baby, or the little second-grader who is filled with wonder and awe at receiving the Body of Christ for the first time, or the teen who is uncharacteristically reverent and humble when the bishop anoints his head, I know that words cannot explain what truly happens in a Sacrament. I am deeply humbled and blessed to have the privilege to not only bear witness, but to also help prepare so many to take these important steps along their faith journeys.

And then there are funerals. I had not been to many in my life and had no idea what to expect. I am relatively young and at first found it difficult to be a part of funerals. I have no wise words or life experience to lend to these situations – I simply had nothing to offer. But for some reason I’d find myself with the widow or widower, an adult child of the deceased or a grandchild. I would simply listen. Even though there have been moments when I have wanted to let the tears flow, I quickly realized it is not my place, it is not my grief. My role is to offer comfort and strength – tissues, a cup of water, a kind word, a chair, a warm smile, a gentle hug. What still surprises me by my role is how grateful the grieving are for my presence – just my being there in the name of the Church means everything. It is humbling and terribly important work. It is in those moments when I know just how important it is for each of us to be Christ for one another.

There are so many lessons that I have learned, like the importance of having a core group of understanding and knowing friends who offer support and direction and the absolute necessity of prayer, a constant dialogue with the One you are really working for. It has been a year of growing for me and learning to stick it out even when it was not comfortable.

So, if you are thinking about a job in parish ministry, I’d say it isn’t going to be easy. You are going to feel inadequate and at some point, if you are doing your job well, you will be humbled. It is not easy letting God work through you. But at the same time, there is great joy to be experienced and wonderful people to encounter. And if God so blesses you, you may just have some rare glimpses of the divine that will profoundly touch your life.

By Elizabeth Jennings White

Formally with the Communications Office of the Archdiocese of Boston, Elizabeth presently works for Christ the King Parish in Evansville, Indiana. She is a recent graduate of St. Meinrad School of Theology.